Twin Peaks, and indeed the entirety of David Lynch’s oeuvre, was and will always be a communal experience for me. I saw my first David Lynch movie, Mulholland Drive, in an almost-sold-out screening at the SIFF Egyptian in 2023. From then, I watched Blue Velvet, Inland Empire, Eraserhead, and more, reporting my jumbled but inspired thoughts, theories, and emotions back to more senior Lynch fans and friends. Though an endlessly long watchlist prevented me from visiting the humble, beloved town of Twin Peaks, Lynch’s passing in 2025 awakened the urgency to make the trip.

 “I’ll see you in twenty-five years.” These were the final words the spirit of Laura Palmer whispered to Agent Dale Cooper during the season two finale of Twin Peaks in 1991. In 2017, Laura’s farewell became the backdrop for Twin Peaks: The Return, the third and truly final season of David Lynch’s and Mark Frost’s beloved cult classic. And now, The Return returns. This time it’s being presented across Seattle by The Grand Illusion Cinema, The Beacon, Northwest Film Forum, and SIFF. 

Cosplay has a rich history often overlooked in the mainstream geek/nerd culture. As an artform often seen as ‘cringe’ or ‘embarrassing,’ a lot of people don’t know much about the cosplay scene or its events, but the truth is that it’s a vibrant community of dedicated fans, crafters, and performers. To separate cosplay from fandom culture is a disservice, as cosplay remains one of the oldest expressions of fan dedication along with fanfiction, conventions, meet-ups, and fanart. 

Andrew Bell is a Seattle-based filmmaker whose feature debut, Bleeding (2024), has received attention from the broader horror community in the past year. The film follows teenage cousins Eric (John R. Howley) and Sean (Jasper Jones), in a world where vampire blood is a highly addictive drug. While on the run from Sean’s dealer, they run into a sleeping teenager (Tori Wong) locked in a house, and things spiral into a morbid nightmare. Bleeding tackles intense real-world problems while maintaining the heightened fantasy of horror.

You wake up in hazy, hot darkness beneath your comforter. There is a sound coming from somewhere in your room. It is the sound of a foot, shifting positions. It is soft, but heavy, as if someone tall is trying not to make any noise. You go through your list. Your roommate. But he is gone until Tuesday, and it’s Sunday. And why would he come into your room unless it was an emergency. Your girlfriend, but you saw her last night at her place and then left. Sometimes she comes here to shower after the gym, which could be it. Very quietly, you turn your wrist towards your face. It glows green, illuminating the time: 3:32 a.m. So yeah. Your girlfriend would not be coming from the gym at this time.

The rain fell hard as the moon hung in the obsidian sky like a chandelier. Bramble Manor stood resolute over the dark village of Black Brier. The village, founded on partial truths and gossip, sat at the edge of the cloaked woods surrounding it like a crescent. The only way to leave was down an unkept dirt road through an opening in the black woods. 

It was just plain rotten luck, or perhaps some cruel twist of fate, that Melinoë, the goddess of nightmares, had plenty of nightmares of her own.

Nightmares of smooth scales and winding bodies pulled flush against her own. Serpents, snakes. They curled around her shoulders, tangled in her hair, corkscrewed around her wrists and ankles. They pulled taut, slithered, and writhed, covered her mouth, her eyes, her ears. And she woke up gasping. 

Released in 1985, Re-Animator was loosely adapted from H.P. Lovecraft’s 1922 novelette, “Herbert West—Reanimator,” and while I would gladly change my legal name to “Official Lovecraft Hate Account,” I try not to hold the association against the movie. Director Stuart Gordon, whose background was in theater, originally planned Re-Animator as a stage production. Then it evolved into a television pilot, which was expanded into a feature film.

Dunya closed her eyes and banished the Old-Man-turned-god from her sight. Still, the gods remained before her. In the abyssal blackness behind her eyes, there burned a glowing light. Shadowed figures cavorted around it, symbols flitting overhead. Vishnu and Rávan circled each other in a violent dance of war, and Dunya lay in the pyre at their stamping feet. 

Over the past decade, Morgue Anne has forged a creative home at The Rendezvous, a historic venue in the heart of Belltown, where, until a few weeks ago, you could see everything from live music, to comedy shows, public figure drawing sessions, burlesque performances, and beyond. “I’ve been working at the Rendezvous in one way or another for the last ten years or so. I’ve been the events and booking director for the past three years,” she said. But her experience goes beyond just booking the shows:

It’s lucky if you live here around the Puget Sound because you do not have to go far to experience great cinema. There are vast possibilities here that will have destinations like Port Townsend, Tacoma, and Orcas Island on your mind. Here are a few highlights of local film festivals and archival series coming this fall.

The Old Man began to play. 

It was like no music she’d ever heard, tainted and raw and beautiful. 

When he finished the song, he stood, opened the window all the way, and held forth the instrument. “Do you want to try?” 

Five words which dictated the rest of Dunya’s life. 

The Rose Theatre, thus far the oldest theater in the Sound Cinema catalog, opened back in 1907 in Port Townsend, a city on the eastern tip of the Olympic Peninsula. The theater started as a vaudeville performance space—like most in that era—before converting to movies. The space went through a couple of transitions after its initial run as a movie house, and by 1992 it was a junk shop in the heart of the lower portion of the city. At that time, a group of community volunteers, donors, and investors brought the theater back to life, and for the over thirty years since, the Rose Theatre has become a community staple. 

We Are Not a powerful graphic novel. Written and illustrated by Josh Tuininga, We Are Not Strangers explores the relationship between Marco, a Jewish immigrant, and his friend, Sam Akiyama, a first generation Japanese American. Marco and Sam navigate the discrimination and displacement of their communities in the aftermath of Pearl Harbor and during World War II while trying to look out for their families and for each other.

Seeing a movie outside is like a campfire story. You and your friends and family gather around a glowing screen on blankets or short chairs to sit back and relax. In August, a partnership of the Maple Leaf Community Council and Scarecrow Video, sponsored by Áegis Living, are running the fourth edition of Movies by the Tower. For three Saturdays there will be free movies in Maple Leaf Reservoir Park.

Three prisoners staggered out of the truck: two men and a woman. The men knew each other. Their hands grazed and their gazes met. The woman stood alone, clinging to the broken neck of a violin. They were all unchained, but fear and shock were as good a shackle as any. Until it was disrupted, at least. 

Nicole Bearden (NB): You’ll find our next guest nestled in an arched niche of the Cal Anderson Gatehouse. Saint Rat is the talk of the town this summer—Hot Rat Summer, that is.  Welcome to Iconic Convos, Saint Rat. I’m thrilled to finally connect.

Saint Rat (SR): Blessings of the Season, my child.

NB: You are having a bit of a moment. How are you dealing with your newfound notoriety?

Ivy watched as the evening workers and night dwellers shuffled down the sidewalks, heads bowed against the omniscient glow of the streetlights that’d borne witness to their savage furies. 

Warning, the voice began again. 

Ivy lifted a cigarette to her lips, inhaled, let the smoke sit and coil through her lungs like a breath of life before she blew it through the crack of her propped window. Only the stub of the cigarette remained, its embers hot against her fingers. But it was good for a few more puffs at least, and god did she need it. 

A few things greet you when you take in a show at the Blue Mouse. There are clocks on each end of the building's marquee, and scampering across the edges are neon, blue mice created by Tacoma-born glass artist Dale Chihuly. The lobby has the old-school movie house charm with a concession stand right inside the doors. When you go through the curtains to the theater proper, you see the old influences on the space—the large stage for performance or presentation mixed with the modern features.

Back in March, I had the pleasure of interviewing Emergence Films’ cofounder Rachel Noll James and discussed the forthcoming Emerging Filmmakers Program. Open to anyone who identifies as a woman, this program’s mission is to elevate marginalized voices in the filmmaking world while giving filmmakers of all experience levels the opportunity to create a feature length movie. A few months later, this year’s cohort of emerging filmmakers has been selected! There are three groups: Team Pocket Topic (Melissa Tumas and Sonia M. Kandathil), Team Mother Tongue (Jo Woods and Sarah Mona), and Team Cosmic Coyote (Mia McGlinn, Ila Dreesen, and Sydney Renee).