The Tomatometer rating – based on the published opinions of hundreds of film and television critics – is a trusted measurement of movie and TV programming quality for millions of moviegoers. It represents the percentage of professional critic reviews that are positive for a given film or television show.
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The Tomatometer is 60% or higher.
The Tomatometer is 59% or lower.
Movies and TV shows are Certified Fresh with a steady Tomatometer of 75% or higher after a set amount of reviews (80 for wide-release movies, 40 for limited-release movies, 20 for TV shows), including 5 reviews from Top Critics.
Percentage of users who rate a movie or TV show positively.
This is an entertaining and intriguing return to form that will delight fans and maybe-just maybe-pull in a new audience happy to overlook the slow pace and random non sequiturs in return for a glimpse into Lynch's inimitable, magical, dystopian world.
What premiered on Sunday was as accessibly scary, disturbing and audaciously funny as many of the best parts of the original Twin Peaks, and nowhere near as hallucinatory and subtextually distilled as the prequel film Fire Walk With Me.
As the return of Twin Peaks surges on after a promising but troubled start, I have to credit it with this: It's the rare screen entertainment that allows us to contemplate faces that have aged in real time.
Lynch and Frost didn't bring back Twin Peaks to merely please themselves or flaunt their oddities. They brought it back as a piece of pure Sunday-night entertainment, and that may be the most surprising thing about it.
Beyond the cast, the show was beautifully shot by Peter Deming, and Angelo Badalamenti's score is as iconic as ever. The pieces of this puzzle inspire rapture. But when you try to assemble them, what kind of picture do you create?
Mr. Lynch's mastery of tension persists. The script, by him and Mr. Frost, recognizes the power of silence and anticipation. And Mr. Lynch, who is directing the entire revival, still has his penchant for dualities and eerie beauty.
Twin Peaks defies ultimate analysis, and ultimate judgment. That's its secret and mystique, and why it's back after 25 years, as a reminder that TV -- like art -- doesn't have to be reduced to nuts and bolts, or to specific meaning either.
Two hours of sumptuously photographed, obtuse, patience-taxing, and sometimes demonically horrifying imagery that I'll bet single-handedly destroyed the nostalgic goodwill that had accrued since the show was announced.
The show, which derived its power from the aftermath of trauma in a small community, has chosen to tell a story that's odder and bigger -- so big, in fact, that it has so far choked off what made Twin Peaks work all along.