Horrible Non-Horror! The Twilight Edition

I did it. 

It hurt. A lot.

Why you ask, would someone with such refined taste as myself (said as I dust off the cover to The Refrigerator) possibly embark on such an inevitably ill-fated journey into the realm of tween romance and Mormon metaphors growing like weeds in the Twilight saga? No, it wasn’t peer pressure stemming from the fact that several coworkers have prominent screensavers highlighting the cheekbones of starring minors. A more noble cause, I promise.

I don’t like to trash something I haven’t seen. For all I know, Maid of Honor is a charming romance, The Backup Plan should win J-Lo an Oscar, and Nicholas Sparks is this generation’s James Joyce. As much as I allow my eyeballs to make a full ecliptical roll when I hear these kinds of trailers, I try to stop myself from actively criticizing if I have yet to personally experience them. That’s part of why Saw has such a bad wrap and I simply don’t like it.

Neither does Costas.

And thus, with beer in the fridge, pizza in my belly, and dear friend Erica (and gleeKast cohostess-Episode 2 now available!) supplying the DVDs, I sat back and entered Forks, Washington, population: angst.

Quick Plot: 

You pretty much know it, but for the uninformed, here goes: Bella Swan (Kristen Stewart) moves to a small town to live with her sheriff dad Chris. Despite the fact that her classmates seem to be very welcoming, Bella prefers to be miserable by stalking Edward Cullen, her pasty lab partner who spends about 65% of his life angrily walking away from people, 30% trying not to vomit, and the remaining 5% ensuring that the height of his hair puts Luke Perry’s circa Season 1 of 90210 to shame. They eventually fall in love (I guess; neither’s voice ever registers more than a sprinkle of emotion so it’s not easy to detect) and about 80 minutes in, experience CONFLICT.

Not in the form of Edward’s vampirism (remember, he’s a vegetarian who only eats animals...which-nevermind) but rather, a feuding tribe of glowering undead who really dig the scent of unpleasant 17 year old girls. And thus a hunt proceeds and the prom happens. Then there’s a Stabilizer-ish music video recapping the greats screen shots for end credits and I cry a little inside.

Onto New Moon, an amazing feat of utter boredom mixed with hilariously cashed in -on opportunities to display young men sans shirts. We catch up with Bella and Edward as their relationship has progressed to serious staring into each others’ eyes territory. Upon her 18th birthday, Miss Mopey gets a paper cut (in slo mo) and the Cullen clan realize her delectable potential puts her in danger of becoming soup. Edward and Co. exit town, leaving an even more sedated Bella to pout, her now miserable life only uplifted by the presence of yet another mysterious and handsome peer named Jacob’s Six Pack, the adrenaline rushes she gets trying to kill herself (and often tells us about, leading us to wonder if it paid for product placement) and the occasional Obi Won Kenobi-ish glimpses of floating Edward heads. Mostly though, Bella likes to moan about how there’s nothing to live for now that her former prom date is on the road.

Doesn’t this kid have SATs to prepare for? College applications? An afterschool job at the local diner? She has friends--admittedly rather obnoxious and chirpy, but nice enough--but Bella is, essentially, a feminist’s worst nightmare. A pretty young woman who cannot function without the support of a man, be it an emotionally abusive vampire or concerned werewolf with a crush. When Edward leaves, Bella’s as good as dead. When Jacob goes, she proceeds to cry again over Edward. “You can’t break up with me,” she pleads, even though nothing in their relationship ever suggested the fact that she and Six Pack were dating. Sure, he was willing to whip off his t-shirt to clean up a spot of blood on her head, but does Bella have to be the center of everyone’s universe? Especially when she has the personality and spark of a corn nut?

Finally, 90 minutes into the film, we get some news of something somewhat potentially interesting happening. Edward’s in Italy, about to sparkle under the Tuscan sun with the Volturi high council. I’ll confess that I dozed off a minute or two here, during which I assume I missed Bella googling visa protocol and finding a great flight deal on Priceline.com. 

Anyway, Italy, stuff, Edward, windchime sound effects, Dakota Fanning in contacts, old men grumbling, slo-mo speed fights, and in the film’s only real saving grace, the great (and genre-supportive) Michael Sheen as Aro, head over-the-top vampire boss who seemed to learn a few lessons in spangles and stares from Sheen’s Underworld costar Bill Nighy. In case you can’t guess, it ends moodily happy with thinly veiled metaphors regarding chastity until marriage.

I accept that I am not the target audience for the Twilight saga. Perhaps 15 years ago, when my nose was permanently lodged into a V.C. Andrews saga, I would have been mildly interested in a mashup of young love and undead limitations but in as objective as a voice as I can muster, this is indeed a horrid, horrid world of offensive melodrama. As a young teenager, I enjoyed the adventures of Cathy Dollanger in Flowers in the Attic not because she was beautiful, loved, and the target of abuse, but because in the face of devastating events, she maintained a spirit in overcoming it to protect herself and family. 

The vampires and Bella are utterly selfish and despicable beings. Observe how they watch as an extended tour group--complete with children--marches into certain death via vampire festival right before the final scene in Italy. “Keep walking,” Edward instructs Bella who, of course, listens to everything he has to say and does. I don’t require my protagonists to be heroic, but these are, essentially, supermonsters who we as the audience are supposed to be enthralled by. Why oh why should we have ANY investment in their fate when they clearly care so little about anything but their own?

Bella, meanwhile, is defined entirely by the men who pass into and out of her life. Yes, many 17 year old girls prioritize relationships, but by 18, don’t you start to consider the direction of your life? Can’t suicide wait for graduation or the sequel to Face Punch?

There’s room for intriguing plot points. I like the idea of a barechested gang of young muscle men representing a certain analogy for homosexuality (sample quote “It’s not a lifestyle choice. I was born this way.”) but knowing Stephanie Meyers’ conservative Mormon leanings, I don’t imagine that’s the way this turns out.

Random Relish (not worthy of actually being High Points)

Can’t help but love the fact that in Italy, elevator music = operatic muzak

For awkward third wheel date night, Bella chooses the movie “Face Punch” and we get to hear a few bits of dialog. Also, I realize I would much rather be watching Face Punch.

In a movie filled with mumbling actors, one must turn on some subtitles, something that often brings out the best in scriptwriting. My favorite example refers to a motion of Edward which my screen read “Sighs Exasperatedly.” The best part is that there was about nine times more emotion in that line than there was in Pattinson’s actual delivery

Winning Lines

“Hold on tight, spider monkey.”

So many victories in this sentence. 1) It’s the dumbest pet name ever 2) It’s followed by a piggy back ride that recalls Luke’s training montage with Yoda wrapped around his shoulders and 3) It’s insanely ridiculous

“I wish I could explain but I literally can’t.”

Maybe if these kids spent more time paying attention in English class as opposed to bulking up, they would be able to explain. And understand the definition of ‘literally.’

“Is it possible that everything is true? The fairy tales and horror stories?Is it possible that there isn’t anything sane or normal at all?”

What does this even mean? The kid’s already witnessed her boyfriend sparkle and her friend morph into a CGI infused werewolf. Can’t she just accept that yes indeed, Santa completes his duties in one night and leprechauns like shoes?

Stake In the Heart

Dear Twilight: I’ll forgive some of your inanity, but do not, do not DARE to make any sort of reference, however passing it may be to Dawn of the Dead

Lessons Learned

You can google a lot of things, including the word “adrenaline rush” and how to find a book about a legend, where to purchase said book, and directions to take in reaching the place of purchase. Yes, we get a whole sequence devoted to Google Maps. 

In order to woo the pretty weird new girl, make sure you treat her like shit and constantly walk away while she’s talking. Chicks dig that.

The name ‘Bella’ is Italian

Ain’t no adults cooler than lingo-spouting Native American paraplegics!

Rent/Bury/Buy

As I stated before, I don’t approve of anybody mocking any movie until an actual watch. When it comes to something like the juggernaut of Twilight, you almost have try it in order to properly criticize the dreadful messages the saga sends. I wouldn’t feel so much anger towards a mere high school romance if I didn’t think this series is positively awful when it comes to portraying women, something particularly dangerous to the sensitive tween audience eating it up like Jelly Bellies. As I explained, it's worth catching ten minutes of to at least mount a solid defense against your cubicle neighbor, babysitter, or random subway rider you feel the need to educate. I take no real pleasure in announcing my opinion that Twilight and New Moon are painful experiences in both film and feminism. As a responsible masochist, I suffered through it and admit feeling a tad stronger as a result.

Even Tony Blair is proud of me!

Now let us never talk about this mess again.

Underwhelmed 3: The Rise of the Nighy

JCVD does his split.

Schwarzenegger has his accent.

The Rock raises an eyebrow.

But no man can pivot like Bill Nighy.

After spending $15 on My Bloody Valentine 3D (of which the awesomeness was simple and pure and everything it should have been so read about it elsewhere) the thought of an increased priced ticket to cover glasses that blatantly warn you not wear them in the sun seemed like the perfect reason to sneak into a vampire movie. While Frank Lang-acula WAS puffing his cheeks next door in Frost/Nixon and I wouldn’t have minded a shot at spotting a rare Clint Howard cameo, my lovely friend Erica and I decided to see that other Michael Sheen film. The one with the leather.

Quick Plot: Vampires are jerks. Snobby, blue-eyed jerks who perhaps are meant to represent American plantation owners of the antebellum period or the natural progression of goth kids if they were to somehow amass power and castles. Their chief duties appear to be holding councils, shaking down silver miners for booty to kill werewolves with, and abusing human slaves, some of whom (or perhaps all, I wasn't quite clear) are Lycans. Bill Nighy is Viktor, best-dressed and therefore leader of the vampires (although I think this particular clan should be called vamp-eYres, with an stress on the last syllable as pronounced by Andrew on Buffy), and father to the dark-haired Sonja, whom I, having never seen a Kate Beckinsdale film, assumed was actually Kate Beckinsdale (this is what movies get for putting cast credits at the end). Aside from looking good and pivoting in ridiculous grand style, Viktor's biggest hobby seems to be playing fetch with the fetchingly shirtless Sheen’s Lycan Lucien. 

There’s a forbidden interspecies romance, a valiant uprising, and several scenes of mild whipping that probably amuse some audience goers more than others. I've never seen an Underworld film and I don't really have a sunburning desire to see more, but that being said, this is good at what it does. Sheen gives a far better performance than you normally come to expect from a genre film. The man’s a good actor, but more importantly, he takes his work seriously, regardless of the content. NY Newsday recently ran an interview with him where writer and snob Frank Lovelace (relation to Linda: unknown) made some rather condescending remarks about the Underworld series, to which Sheen vigorously jumped to its defense with class.  

The guy has seriously earned my respect (plus he probably looks much better topless than Clint Howard).

High Points:

A neat little getaway scene that gets inconveniently halted by spears

As someone whose opinion of filmic werewolves generally ranges from ‘low utterance of meh’ to ‘higher pitched meh,’ the Lycans fell somewhere in the upper register of meh (until they devolved into CGI bass mehs. Meh is not a good rating system, is it?).

Low Points:

The heavy metal video editing makes Saw look like Casablanca.

A sex scene that involves a werewolf and vampire dangling over a cliff in the rain has no reason not be hot. But it’s not.

Lessons Learned:

Rhina Mitra looks an awful lot like Kate Beckinsdale. I guess. Wait, that’s really NOT Kate Beckinsdale?

Liberace’s costume designer comes from a long line of vampires

Never give Kevin Grevioux dialogue if you don’t want the audience to laugh at the inhuman depth of his voice.

Vampires suck (figuratively, and a little literally).

Full Price/Sneak In/Stay Home

Haughty Naughty Nighy is a 60 year-old British thespian and now a life-sized cardboard cutout on the poster for an action film about vampires. That should be reason enough to sneak in, plus, he wears spangles. In medieval Europe. And he pivots. A lot. You can live without this movie, but a little Nighy does make the world a better place.