And the Spell Was Broken

In the interest of full disclosure, you should know that I’m not a “Twi-Hard” (shocking, I know). In fact, it was only because of a friend’s peer pressure that I finally broke down and read or watched anything Twilight-related. I will admit, however, that I was pleasantly surprised with what I encountered of the Twilight series. Until, that is, Breaking Dawn: Part 1.

(Halt: Possible spoilers ahead.)

Oh, where to begin? First, this movie felt much more like a telenovela than the interspecies love story that it was supposed to be. Truly, without all the music montages, pregnant pauses, sighing, deep inhaling, dramatic eye closing (I’m looking at you, Kristen Stewart) and never-ending monologues—presented for optimal effect with heart-wrenching mood music and slow zoom-ins with the camera—this movie could’ve been 45 minutes. And should’ve been. In fact, it took vampire-like strength on my part not to fast-forward through a large portion of it.

However, if I took you through every irritating aspect and unbelievable moment, we’d be here for as long as the movie felt (read: a long time). That said, there were a few things that just can’t be forgotten—or forgiven.

First of all, Bella’s wedding hair. Hideous. It was bulky, uneven around her face and—at one point—fell around her ears, giving her a slight Mr. Tumnus-from-Narnia look. I mean, c’mon, her hairdressers—Edward’s “sisters”—are like a thousand years old; haven’t they had time to perfect an up-do? 

Apparently "messy" is in this season.

Secondly, and this has been an issue for me from the beginning, WHY in the world do they cast darkly complected actors and then paint them white? It’s not a good look. And considering these vampires are supposed to be the most beautiful beings ever created, it really makes no sense. If I was Stephenie Meyer, I’d be significantly irritated that my vision was being so shamelessly distorted. (Although, I suppose those monster checks she's cashing ease the burn a bit.)

Nikki Reed (L) proves that she's actually an attractive human being when not in vampire mode (R).

 

Listen, I really am willing to overlook a lot. I won’t even mention the fact that K. Stew may be one of the most irritating actresses of all-time (although, she can cry like a champ—I’m talking Diedre Hall-caliber—I won’t take that away from her); or that as much as she bites her lip, she better have a Costco-sized tub of chap stick at home; or that somewhere between the second and third movie, Carlisle acquired some type of accent…but only sometimes; or even the erroneous implication that the actors playing the vampires are the most beautiful people on the planet. Hey, I understand that beauty is subjective and I’m willing to concede that some people may find this group attractive. It’s big of me, I know.

Nope, I won’t mention any of it.

What I can’t ignore, however, is the Darth Vader-inspired voices the werewolves employed while they were communicating telepathically. I hope the BD creators are big George Lucas fans; otherwise, this makes absolutely no sense and is so awful it’s not even comical, just cringe-worthy. It was perhaps the most ridiculous scene in a film ripe with them.

There were, however, some bright spots. I thoroughly enjoyed Anna Kendrick’s 15 seconds onscreen, as well as the special effects employed to show Edward’s venom spreading through Bella’s body. I assume the venom that Eddie injects Bells with is different than the “poison” that Real Housewives of New Jersey’s, Joe Gorga injects his wife with or this would be a completely different movie. That said, I had to remind myself periodically that this was a PG-13 film, as parts of it were fairly risqué. I’ll just say that I’m glad I wasn’t watching it with my mom and leave it at that.

But, despite all its faults—and there are a lot of them—there’s something about Twilight that warms the heart. Maybe it’s the family unity. Who wouldn’t want to be a part of the Cullen clan, aside from that undead thing? They stick together and protect each other at all costs.

Let’s face it, as much as I hate to admit it, the Twilight books—and, to a lesser degree, the movies—are a lot like Mexican food: they really stick with you, lingering until your last taste is a distant memory.

And, sometimes, they give you gas.