Charles Jensen | Writer

Because I am often slow to get to the movies lately, I just finally saw Twilight this weekend.

You may recall that I tried reading the book some months ago and found it annoying, poorly written, dull, and all-around ridiculous (even barring vampires). I only read half of it and then regifted it as a white elephant Christmas gift for a party I went to. Getting rid of it was more a gift for me.

So my movie expectations were low, but I did think it would be better than the book.

No.

Wrong.

So wrong.

It was at least as bad as the book if not worse. Mostly because it pulled dialogue directly from Stefenie Meyer’s awfully-rendered scenes and dropped them into the gorgeous Pacific Northwest landscape. The acting was, simply put, atrocious, except for Kristen Stewart, who showed occasional glimpses of brilliance/adolescent awkwardness. But any bright points were infrequent, often clouded by the awful, awful dialogue and ridiculous scenarios–for example, it takes Bella about 90 minutes to figure out Edward’s a vampire. She even has to read a book to be sure. It’s like, hello? If the dude is cold, pale, stays out of sunlight and has super strength and catlike reflexes, he’s a vamp. Duh. Turn on a TV now and then, or read some classic literature. Bella is supposed to be very gifted otherwise. Right.

One of my friends referred to the film as a “cinematic abortion,” while another claimed the film was causing him to “grow a vagina.” While harsh, my own opinion was not far off. I actually said out loud at various points, “REALLY?” and “You’re kidding me.” It is so amateurishly done, it’s like the studio went out and found people who’d never even watched a movie and then said, “Here’s the book and a camera–call us when it’s done!”

The upside was that we saw the film at Cinema Drafthouse in Arlington, where we got to scarf down greasy bar food and a pitcher of beer before and while we watched. It seemed a small price to pay to crane my neck around the waiter in exchange for yumsy beer and deep friend mac-n-cheese bites. I will definitely go back there, although from now on we’ve all solemnly agreed not to see another film as awful as Twilight–in case we vomit with disgust, thereby ruining an otherwise nice night out.