“It certainly feels like it closed the circle”: Mark Frost on Twin Peaks Season 4 possibility

Twin Peaks has always been more than a series. It's a portal, an open wound carved into television history, an invitation to drift somewhere between dream and memory. The quiet possibility of a new season hovered like an enigmatic whisper ever since Twin Peaks: The Return in 2017, but David Lynch’s demise in January 2025 seems to have sealed that door for good.

Mark Frost, the silent guardian and creative partner behind this mythology, confirmed in recent interviews that the idea of a fourth season dissolved along with Lynch’s passing, closing the circle that began in the early 1990s.

“It certainly feels like it closed the circle.”

His words hold the melancholy of someone who understands that some stories deserve to remain suspended, preserved like stains on the wood of the Red Room.

Among visions, owls, and endless cups of coffee, Twin Peaks lives now as an echo that thrives on being revisited. That is exactly what I plan to do later this year, diving back into that ironically delicious abyss and welcoming every distorted smile and every flicker of shadow that only Twin Peaks can offer.

Beyond the Black Lodge

The first two seasons of Twin Peaks shifted the entire grammar of television. The show arrived to turn a small town murder mystery into a sprawling meditation on trauma, desire, and the thin line between worlds.

"Who killed Laura Palmer?" echoed everywhere. Twin Peaks invited us to feel lost and exhilarated, each episode a cryptic puzzle that at the same time demanded to be solved but also experienced like a fever dream. The series changed the very way storytelling would work on television from the moment it dropped on.

When Twin Peaks: The Return arrived in 2017, the revival stood as an act of artistic defiance. Frost and Lynch revisited that haunting town to reshape it into a vast psychological realm of regret and collective consequences, where each scene resembled a vibrant artwork, glimmering with silent sorrow and surprising wit.

The series would not function solely as a sentimental trip. Instead, it explored more deeply the dreamlike logic that had continually pulsed under Twin Peaks, urging us to question the fates of the characters and the nature of narrative conclusion itself. It was a tribute to mystery, an extended wail echoing through scarlet curtains and empty coffee shops.

Recently, Frost disclosed that he and Lynch had contemplated the possibilities of a fourth season, talking about snippets of where the narrative of Twin Peaks might go next. These discussions sparkled with potential, akin to faintly caught murmurs in the woods, yet stayed fragile, incomplete, and strongly protected. Their collective vision recognized that certain paths are intended to remain concealed, serving more as lingering possibilities than as fully detailed routes.

“We had talked a little bit about where a fourth season might go, but with David having left us, it’s hard to imagine doing anything beyond this,” Frost shared, echoing the gravity that always permeated their work. “It certainly feels like it closed the circle.”

The circle is an image that repeats endlessly in the series: in the rings, in the woods, in the faces that shift behind red curtains. By closing it, Frost accepts that the story’s essence lives not in answers but in its perpetual echo, in the moments that resist linear time. The Black Lodge is not a place to escape or conquer but a mirror reflecting the truth each viewer carries inside.

The price of saving Laura

One of the most haunting choices in Twin Peaks: The Return revolves around Agent Cooper’s desperate attempt to save Laura Palmer. In their final creative discussions, Frost envisioned an ending where Cooper might bring Laura back, erasing the original mystery and returning everything to a ghostly ground zero.

“Initially, David and I were in two minds about how to end The Return. I felt that Cooper going back and rescuing Laura, then having the mystery of her death disappear, might be an extraordinary way to bring us back to ground zero. But David said, ‘He has to pay a price for what he’s tried to do.’ Sheryl Lee was incredible. This is the moment when the full horror comes back to this poor soul; it’s the price Laura Palmer pays for Cooper’s attempted good deed. That was the end of this story,” Frost explained.

This creative divergence shows how deeply Lynch and Frost understood sacrifice as the core pulse of Twin Peaks. Laura is more than just a victim to be rescued. She is a cosmic wound, a living metaphor for the darkness lurking under polished surfaces and sweet cherry pies. Her story is not one that can be undone without consequence, and her scream in the woods echoes as both a lament and an indictment.

By preserving that horror, Frost and Lynch preserved the integrity of Twin Peaks. Instead of offering a neat circle of closure, they left a spiral of grief and wonder that continues to grow with each viewing, making Laura’s story feel alive and unresolvable.

The last log

David Lynch's passing in January 2025 signified the end of a creative era that influenced both Twin Peaks and the overall language of visual narrative. In his later years, Lynch maintained a vigorous creative spirit, drafting concepts and intertwining fresh elements of intrigue despite his battle with emphysema.

Lynch and Frost held the rights to the series, blocking any future seasons or reboots without their consent. This shared ownership appeared to act as a safeguard, protecting the series from dilution and inauthentic revival attempts. Without Lynch's unique surrealism and dynamic energy, the series would forfeit its core, becoming an empty reflection instead of a lively dream.

Lynch's impact reaches far beyond Twin Peaks. His work on Mulholland Drive, Blue Velvet, and Dune, as well as collaborations on music videos for Nine Inch Nails and Moby, formed an artistic constellation that continues to inspire filmmakers and artists worldwide. His dedication to instinct over reasoning, to feeling rather than clear understanding, established a distinct kind of truth that no follow-up or adaptation could ever replicate.

Frost’s recent reflections confirm that they both understood this deeply. By closing the circle together, they preserved Twin Peaks as an eternal loop rather than a story forced to march toward some final, artificial end.

Twin Peaks: A farewell worth revisiting

Mark Frost’s words carry the weight of a final benediction, not a door slammed shut but an invitation to look inward. Twin Peaks was never about solving puzzles only. It was about surrendering to the fog, to the shifting faces, to the shimmering line between nightmare and reverie.

Knowing there will not be a fourth season might feel like a wound, but it also protects the essence of the series, allowing it to remain a living riddle rather than a solved equation. This is a story that breathes through each rewatch, revealing new specters and new shivers with every return to the Red Room.

I plan to revisit Twin Peaks later this year, to fall once more into its ironically delicious abyss. Each distorted smile, each whisper from the woods, each surreal ripple through the diner lights feels like a personal haunting and a shared invitation.

Twin Peaks lives best not as a conclusion but as an echo, a pulse that keeps vibrating long after the credits fade. Some stories do not need new chapters; they need brave hearts willing to step back inside the woods and listen.