Twilight Breaking Dawn: Part 1
Twi-hards, look away now…
My expectations for the latest instalment of modern cinema’s most insipid love story were barrel scrapingly low, tempered only be the mood enhancing banquet of Chinese food ingested beforehand. And yet somehow the creative minds behind Breaking Dawn (whose title so ominously declares that it is merely Part 1) managed to crush my MSG high and deliver the most preposterous two hours of film I’ve had to suffer through this year. It’s difficult to know where - or whether - to start.
The fact is, Catherine Hardwicke’s phenomenal bestsellers about a love story that should appeal to teenage virgin girls has hordes of fans of all ages and both genders. Peering around the cinema beforehand, I was hard pressed to identify any patrons who weren’t deep into their twenties and thirties, and frankly alarmed by the number of men who appeared to have bought tickets of their own free will. This is a franchise that has undone a hundred years of Hammer horror and Buffy the Vampire Slayer, to bring the world rich, good looking, ‘vegetarian’ vampires who only lurk in the shade in order to stop themselves from looking like they’ve stumbled out of a glitter party in one of Soho’s gay clubs. No wonder Jacob and his Native American brethren spend most of their time prowling angrily around a saga that portrays them as hot headed high school drop outs harassing the genteel and intellectual Cullens.
Nor is it any surprise that Kristen Stewart and Robert Pattinson generate fewer sparks as Bella and Edward than a firework display in the middle of a monsoon. A story about a relationship between man struggling to suppress the vicious, ugly monster within and a woman who learns to see beyond his demonic exterior - or perhaps finds herself drawn to that very darkness - is ripe with possibilities (see, ooooh, every other vampire film or tv series ever made, plus a fair few involving humans only). A story about an 18 year old who thinks that interminable pauses between sentences is a sign of emotional depth is…like being forced to sit through someone else’s adolescence - a boring series of non-events of little interest to anyone not directly involved.
And bear in mind this is one of the more interesting entries: it has weddings, nookie, demon pregnancies, sieges, werewolves vs. vampires, death, betrayal, heartbreak - in other words, you’d have to go some way to screw it up. Sadly, not only have the folk behind Twilight gone there, they’ve planted a flag and set up camp. The effects are unacceptable for a threequel raking in nine figures at the box office, the acting veers between wooden and hysterical, and the plot and dialogue make the infamous Sunset Beach turkey baster storyline look restrained. The sexual tension flickers between ridiculously coy (there’s more flesh on display in Disney’s The Little Mermaid) and downright disturbing (sex before marriage is bad, but marital sex that leaves you bruised and battered is an acceptable expression of love). As for the whole ‘imprinting’ storyline, well, that was just downright creepy. And it would be entirely redundant to point out that Breaking Dawn is brimming with plot cul de sacs and hordes of actors whose appearances are so limited that don’t even qualify as cameos. Some would say that this is a result of not having read the books, but it’s difficult to see how even hardcore fans could wring much enjoyment out of this.
All of this would be forgiveable - and vastly more entertaining - if played out with cheesy high camp. Unfortunately the whole enterprise is just as dour and portentous as its predecessors. It’s childish, boring, confused, madder than a box of frogs, and worst of all sorely lacking in shots of Jacob’s abs (the franchise’s only redeeming feature). And for the love of all that is good, would it kill Kristen Stewart to smile? For a film in which she gets married, gives birth and enjoys a love that apparently transcends death, our heroine looks like her pet hamster’s just been run over. But unlike low budget mockbusters or Hallmark TV movies, there’s no excuse for a production with so much money and talent (luckily I’ve seen other movies, not to mention Nurse Jackie, so I know at least some of the cast can act) to be so…woeful.
Easily one of the worst films of the year. And until the trauma starts to fade, I’m tempted to upgrade that to ‘ever’.
