For two decades, fans of

have struggled with abandonment, forced to live in a world where we know not the fate of the backwoods soothsayer who carried around a spirit-harboring hunk of timber. When David Lynch's surrealistic, disturbing and utterly batshit soap opera debuted in 1990, it was a hit, mainly because nobody had ever seen anything like it. But as things got weirder and weirder, it became clear that the fever dream—which, it should be noted, aired on primetime network TV and pitted its themes of incest, murder and surrealism against

—was to be short-lived. After two seasons, it was off the air.

It's unlikely Lynch will ever revisit that creepy Washington mill town, but the beauty of modern fandom is that true believers have the resources and equipment to say "fuck it" and do it themselves. And so we have Twin Twin Peaks, a fan-made episode billing itself as the third-season premiere. It features a lot of familiar names—Special Agent Dale Cooper, Log Lady, sexpot Audrey Horne and ol' Doc Hayward all right—with a lot of unfamiliar faces (Sheriff Harry S. Truman might have undergone gender reassignment surgery). 

The 18-minute film—shot by a legion of Portland superfans who trekked to North Bend, Poulsbo and Snoqualmie in 2009—is the linchpin (pun intended) of the inaugural installment of Future So Bright, a Hollywood Theatre residency at Holocene focusing on the way Internet culture is changing cinematic presentation. In addition to the screening, the event features a live performance of songs from the show, ranging from the weird-ass Angelo Badalamenti synth score to the weirder-ass throwback balladry of Julee Cruise. 

While far from a masterpiece—actors do quasi-impressions of their favorite characters and generally seem stoked to be outside the real Double R Diner—Twin Twin Peaks is a beautiful example of what fans can do with properties that fizzle. Yeah, it's kind of like community theater. Yeah, it's low-budget and has no real ending (the project was ditched after one episode). To non-diehards, its existence is as puzzling as the show itself. 

But it's also fan fiction at is most proactive. Today, fan-made scripts aren't just a nerdy endeavor, and blogs and YouTube channels are opening once-closed doors. Just look at what E.L. James did to hordes of horny housewives by eroticizing Twilight. (Actually, don't look. It's gross.) 

"When people are so invested in these stories, of course they are going to rewrite them so that they feel more interesting or satisfying to them,” Twin Twin Peaks director Helen Reed writes via email from Toronto, where she hopefully isn’t operating her own version of One Eyed Jacks. 

Why don't more fans take it upon themselves to continue the stories they love? Ours is a time when directors like Park Chan-wook experiment with shooting films on iPhones. GoPros have found their way into cinemas courtesy of experimental filmmakers working on the cheap. We have the opportunity to find out what happened to Remo Williams after his film's title, The Adventure Begins, turned out to be a bluff, or what occurred once Ben and Elaine disembarked their bus in The Graduate. Wait, never mind. Let's not find that out. But somewhere, there's a Dustin Hoffman enthusiast with a camcorder and a MILF-y aunt.

If nothing else, Twin Twin Peaks assures us the Log Lady is alive and well two decades after we last received her wisdom. And that's comfort enough. Holocene, 1001 SE Morrison St., 239-7639. 9:30 pm Tuesday, Jan. 14. Free.

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