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It’s rare that a TV show can be as entrancing and uncompromising as Twin Peaks: The Return. Even during the early episodes, when viewers were already trying to piece together the narrative and guess where it would lead, I cautioned others to let go of expectations and simply enjoy the show in the moment. David Lynch has always been an instinctual filmmaker, creating art that’s driven more by his own in-the-moment feelings and whims than the requirements of an overarching plot. This is why his work often takes on a sort of dream logic; it frees him from the constraints of reality, letting his work appeal to the viewer on a basic, primal level. He’s a maestro of emotional scene-construction, who’s not so much bad at traditional storytelling as he is completely disinterested in it.

This is why, as Twin Peaks entered the home-stretch of it’s first (only?) return season, I was shocked at just how much was congealing. Major reveals were coming left and right, tying together several threads from the original series (such as Bob, the “blue rose” cases, Major Briggs, the Black Lodge, and even “Judy”) into something resembling a consistent explanation. Even outside of the background story, Lynch seemed to be guiding the everything toward a cathartic, fan-pleasing finale. After 13 episodes straight of Dougie Jones shenanigans (which, for the record, I really enjoyed), Dale Cooper was finally back to his old self. “I am the FBI,” he proudly stated, to the widespread rejoicing of Twin Peaks fans.

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George RR Martin’s “A Song of Ice and Fire” novels are ultimately about balance. As the title suggests, the world is home to two extreme and opposite forces, that of fire and that of ice. Both have been linked to events that caused great damage in Westeros and Essos for several generations, but the hero of the story is the product of a father who represents fire (Rhaegar Targaryen) and a mother who represents ice (Lyanna Stark). Only he can ultimately bond the people of the world to fight off a cataclysmic crisis.

But the same metaphor could be applied to the creative shepherds of the TV adaptation “Game of Thrones”. Original author George RR Martin moves his story forward at a glacial pace, taking plenty of time to seed story elements and character motivations which will pay off at a later time. He has continued to expand his universe with each novel, to the point where the story is so unwieldy that it takes him more than six years to deliver a single book.

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In my review, I called The Leftovers’ second year one of the “all-time great seasons of television.” Almost two years later, those 10 perfectly realized episodes still stand tall over everything I’ve seen, from wonderful character dramas like Better Call Saul to pulp-fantasy fare like Game of Thrones. Few shows since have been as profound, moving, entertaining, deftly written, or hilarious, and none have managed to hit all of those buttons at the same time.

Somehow, with only 8 episodes left to provide an answer for the meaning to life, The Leftovers wrapped with an even more brilliant season of television. It’s a perfect swan song, managing to broaden its storytelling horizon more than previous years while somehow clarifying and solidifying its central thematic question. The degree of difficulty here is astounding, yet you never get the sense that the creators are struggling or being crushed under the weight of the monumental challenge. In the end, The Leftovers tells you everything, or nothing. It just depends on how much you want to believe.

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