Twilight, movie review

My overall reaction to the Twilight movie does not deviate overmuch from that of the book, with the notable exception of exemplary creative collaboration. Coming from a theatrical background, I appreciate the artistic process that occurs when a team of creative professionals throw down with a vision, a budget and a deadline. If one could excuse the source material entirely for the crimes against storytelling, Twilight on film is a satisfying experience. Grand cuts are taken to the dialogue and entire scenes are either tightly edited or excised entirely, leaving us with a rush of first romance beneath the stain of horror. The performers brought qualities to the characters left bereft in written form and made them memorable and sympathetic. Only the special effects marred what otherwise defied my expectations as a quality adaptation to a shitty book.

Still, the tale of a neurotic teenager hooking up with a castrated vampire in the first glimmers of hormone-fevered romance incites bowel obstructing, head-desking, loathsome revulsion in me. No amount of honest body language and heroic hair product could distract me from the kitten-weak premise and insomnia-curing plot. The filmmakers solve the problem of pointlessness until the third act by introducing the evil vampires early and spinning the romance under a constant threat of actual vampires. This validates Edward's genuine fear that his animalistic infatuation with Bella will override his willpower and destroy her, and he will love every minute. Robert Pattison's performance wholly reads as something not human, desperately wrestling with his identity as a monster. Meanwhile, Bella's selfishness in the face of reality softens to the mildly offensive behavior of an emotionally needy teenage girl. I still wished an endless deluge of bus collisions to her person, of course.

The small town feel of Forks, WA flagged in the face of metro-students and calculated racial diversity. Swap any tired high school lunchroom or prom sequence with Twilight's and try hard to notice. But mad props go to any movie that features music by Muse, even if it must accompany a baseball sequence. Special effects jarred the overall pleasant visual style with awkward and goofy movement. Popular panned vamp-sparkle looked more infected than exotic, but the golden lens flare carried the halo image convincingly.

I still hated it.

My favorite riff during my drunken tirade in viewing was at the end. “What, is Edward going to go flinging himself out of his backseat later? It is prom.”