First of all, what the fuck were you doing at a vampire movie for tweens? Tween girls no less?
While I have no interest in vampires and hadn’t even heard of the book until a few months ago, rumors were circulating that at some midnight screenings, teenage girls were dressing like whores, screaming like banshees, and circulating through the crowd biting necks. No, you ass, I did not check with Snopes.
Is all this fuss about Edward, the new young thing reducing America’s collective clitoris to a masticated slab of beef jerky?
Edward (Robert Pattinson) is part James Dean, part Nosferatu, all brooding hunk. His hair is tousled just right, his lipstick a deep, heart-fluttering red, and his skin a whiter shade of pale, that is, when it isn’t glistening like glitter in the sun. Some may be troubled by the intensity of his stares, or his tendency to treat scaling high trees as a first date, but I’ll be damned if he ain’t dreamy.
Is it true he never sleeps? And declares his love by saying that he wants to kill you?
It stands to reason that he’s the new object of lust for women across the country. He sneaks into your bedroom to watch you sleep, doesn’t want other men to even think about you, and is tortured by a deep guilt about wanting to drain you of your blood. He’s the Pacific Northwest’s answer to O.J. Simpson. But unlike the Juice, he’s got poetry in him, and risks it all to be with his true love. Cue swooning.
Isn’t Edward part of some kooky vampire family?
The Cullens, to be exact. The patriarch is Dr. Carlisle Cullen (Peter Facinelli), who could easily stand in for Christian Bale, but only if he were dipped in flour. His initial appearance produced the biggest laugh of the night, though it was difficult to top Edward’s “masochistic lion” speech. But top it he did. Through cheap, preposterous flashbacks, we learn that Carlisle sunk his teeth into Edward’s neck while he dying of the flu back in 1918. He’s been a 17-year-old high school junior ever since.
Will this be Kristen Stewart’s star-making turn?
She’s Bella Swan (!), a sad young woman who moves from Arizona to Washington state to be with her father. She’s thin, attractive, and mysterious, so of course no one wants to talk to her. She makes a few friends among the nerdy group, but it’s Edward who really catches her eye. Within a few scenes, she’s in love, and by the end, she’s ready to join the vampire ranks. Young girls everywhere can’t help but relate to her suicidal despair when faced with a life apart from her first real boyfriend. College? A job? A sense of self? When I could be lounging in the grass with the undead? What-ever.
So why in the fuck are they playing baseball during a thunderstorm?
Sure, the game sets up the final battle between the Cullens and James, the rival Dracula, but at no time is it explained why it has to be played in such inclement weather. The whole scene is cut like a bad music video, complete with the sort of soundtrack found playing in a teenager’s room as he looks out the window on a world that just doesn’t understand. And we just had to see the “bad” vampires (the “good” ones, like Edward, only kill animals) appear in slo-mo formation from the foggy woods, just like every other movie trying to establish a bad-ass attitude.
Learn anything new about the bloodsucking set?
The only way to kill a vampire, apparently, is to cut him to pieces and set the remains on fire. Also, they can, like, read your mind, unless you are destined to be among them. This sets up the need for Edward to actually speak to Bella, rather than continue to lurk and stare from afar. Oh yeah, and the staring thing is apparently what these people like doing more than anything else, especially in cars as they pass each other, or across crowded parking lots. And if you’re the especially gay-looking vampire, stare with wide-eyed blankness to blend in as much as possible. No one will ask questions if you’re translucent and never blink.
Gay vampires? I know this started with Anne Rice, but where have all the cowboys gone?
I’m not sure when American women started falling for androgynous albinos, but Twilight has finally revealed the truth. They haven’t been this obsessed since the Jonas Brothers. But yes, it’s the decline of the American Male, though it’s less the erudite manner and good grooming of Edward and his ilk that are driving the chicks wild than the romantic notion that the best boys interrupt an easy lay just to spend the evening in rapturous adoration. The ladies will take an odorous load to the face to get there, but they’d just as soon go without.
So wait, no ravenous youngsters pouncing like panthers?
The crowd was disappointingly small, and the only disruptions relegated to the row of Mexicans behind me who clicked and clattered away like they were front row at a cockfight. I told them to keep quiet, but my masculine tone was met by an even higher volume. But I was too involved with my pizza, milkshake, and mozzarella sticks to care (it’s called Cinebarre, and they serve a full menu with beer and wine). My mouth was too full, even, to complain that they never did dim the house lights.