The Twilight Saga: New Moon

I’ll write this like Stephenie Meyer and start at the end: Does it really matter that I, or anyone else, give this movie a letter grade or number of stars? The Twihards have seen it already—my ears are still ringing from the din of the midnight showing—and the disinterested will surely need more convincing than the recommendation of one man. So is there any point in listing pros and cons? Let’s start over at the beginning.

12:15am, the previews end, and with glacial speed the dark screen reveals the title fans have waited a year to see: New Moon. It’s good that the opening shot is painstakingly slow, it sets the tone accurately for what follows. Like its predecessor, this adaptation of Meyer’s cherished series stretches a small amount of plot into an unforgivably long film, wherein moody close-ups and heavy breathing are meant to serve as highlights. I’m getting off track, where was I? Oh yes, opening night.

The shrieks of euphoric viewers died away in time for the audience to hear the second half of the film’s epigraph—film’s can have epigraphs too, you see—lines stolen from Romeo & Juliet to inform viewers, “this is a serious love story with serious consequences that you should take seriously because it is serious literature… seriously.” It’s not that Meyers borrowed from Shakespeare’s famous play, it’s more like she snuck up behind it, hit it over the head with a rock, drug it into an alleyway, and stole its lunch money.

The plot is as follows: Edward’s family almost kills Bella. Edward leaves. Being away from Edward almost kills Bella. She spends time with muscular Jacob Black who falls in love with her. Rogue vampire almost kills Bella. Jacob Black and his family are werewolves. Jumping off a cliff almost kills Bella. Edward gets misinformation and thinks Bella died. Rushing to Italy to stop Edward from committing suicide almost kills Bella. Everyone gets back to rainy Forks, WA. Now Edward and Jacob are both in love with Bella. Cue credits. Yes, many things almost kill Bella.

Did I give too much away? How can I have? The movie, like the book, is just a set up for the third installment when the vampire/human/werewolf love triangle will finally be allowed to run rampant in celebration of what this series really is: a soap opera. Readers won’t have to wait long for the third film, Eclipse. It’s promised to hit theaters in a scant seven months. How can they churn out movies so quickly, you ask? Simple: quality has been abandoned.

New Moon’s special effects are passable, but only just. Where is the jaw dropping CGI we saw in director Chris Weitz’s The Golden Compass? When the perpetually shirtless men of New Moon transform into werewolves, even the adoring screams of devoted fans can’t hide the fact that they look fake. As for the vampires, the superhuman speed blurs look like TV effects, the pale skin looks like an Avon add gone awry, and the sunlight-induced sparkling is as ridiculous on screen as it is on the page.

Bad effects can be overcome by a solid story and strong performances. New Moon has neither. The plot fits snuggly into the category of placeholder, and the only performance worth mentioning belongs to Taylor Lautner’s rarely clothed torso. Is there an Oscar for “most muscle built by an actor at risk of losing his role to a bulkier candidate?” No? Too bad. As for the humans in the cast, three or four manage to create engaging characters, but don’t plan on seeing them, as strictly background players their cumulative screen time is approximately fifteen minutes. The rest of the film’s 130 minute running time is slavishly devoted to Bella moping, Jacob flexing, and Edward sparkling. The adaptation is accurate, though. Shoddy literature begets shoddy cinema.

It’s funny that the two positive elements of New Moon are those exclusive to the film version. The soundtrack is an indie hipster’s skinny-legged, fixed-geared dream come true, and the gray/green scenery of the Pacific Northwest inspires more of a longing in my heart than all the teenage vampire romance novels in Utah could ever dream of doing. Alas, nice songs and nice backgrounds cannot a dreary debacle save.

We’re at the conclusion. This is where, true to Stephenie’s form, I restate what I said at the beginning and add a final word. Does it really matter that I, or anyone else, give this movie a letter grade or number of stars? Honestly, probably not. It is a bad film, but a lot of people will see it. Ebert himself couldn’t change that. The series’ black and red dust jackets continue infecting the shelves of Borders nationwide, and the hysteria accompanying last year’s film is returned in full force. For the sake of the film itself, then, and not the potential viewers, I call its bluff.

Welcome again to cinemas Twilight Saga, you poorly made, over-hyped mess. You want to play with the big kids and that’s fine, but the truth of the matter is you can’t contend. You aren’t a film. You’re a cheap trick, an empty product. So run your course, draw your crowds, make your money. Just don’t pretend to be something you’re not: remotely legitimate filmmaking.


D