First things first: I’m aware of the fact that everyone from Roger Ebert to Roger Ramjet has already thoroughly lambasted Twilight: New Moon. Some would say that by writing a review of it now, I am simply flogging the proverbial deceased equine. However, as I had a pretty good idea that New Moon was going to be terrible before I saw it, I decided that instead of shelling out seventeen bucks to see it at the cinema, I would wait until an illegal Balinese DVD was given to me by a friend who doesn’t know me very well. As always, my prediction was bang on. I’m like Nostra-frigging-damus. Or Ashley Geene.
I know what you’re thinking and I’m already way ahead of you. No, I didn’t read the book, or the one before it, nor do I intend to. I know that makes me a heathen in the collective hive mind of you true believers out there, but before you start complaining about how I can’t possibly understand blah blah because of nyar nyar blah blah blah, (that’s how you sound) I must remind you that a film and a book are different things. Each should be able to stand alone, which is why a novel is adapted into a screenplay, and why I don’t get an instructional video with every book that I purchase. I didn’t read the books for the same reason that I don’t have braces and pigtails: I’m not a 15-year-old girl. And yes, I know that adults can read the Twilight books too. But that’s not to say that they should.
Bella is back to stutter her way through another adventure with Edward, so get ready for two hours of heavy breathing and brooding, pained stares. Edward, being far prettier than his female counterpart, just has to stand up straight and look dreamy, while Bella (Kristen Stewart), has to do all the real acting, and winds up having a fucking anxiety attack every time. This first act is actually quite tight - Edward breaks up with Bella and leaves town to protect her. The film should have ended here, but instead they let it wobble along through plot points shakier than an Alzheimer’s ward built on a fault line. Bella gets depressed because she’s 18, and will never be this in love ever EVER again. She has a bunch of screamy-dreams; catches a film or two with her sort-of friends; then gets into adrenaline rushes, which somehow allow her to see a smoky version of Edward, who gives her sound advice that she promptly ignores. While this is happening, Jacob and Bella spend a montage and multiple other scenes building motorbikes together that they ride just the one time. Jacob goes through a bit of a rough patch when someone cuts his hair off and steals all his t-shirts, and the poor lad has to run around in sneakers and cut offs for the entire second half of the film. As if the Native Americans didn’t have it hard enough. Oh, and he’s a werewolf, as if you couldn’t have guessed from the nose-on-your-face-obvious foreshadowing from the first film. I could go on, but you get the general idea: it’s a bunch of choppy exposition taken directly from the book, combined with random, unrelated sequences that are joined together with adhesive tape and twine. What we wind up with is a stroboscopic view of a story, instead of the smooth narrative line one would hope for.
The most frustrating aspect of New Moon is the contrived Romeo and Juliet parallel. The film opens with a quote from the play. Bella wakes from her dream moments later and the book is on her bed. She then goes to school and her friends mention the play in the parking lot. They watch the film in class. The list goes on. All of these references to Romeo and Juliet are squashed into the first ten minutes of the film, and jammed right up in your face. Theme, like a good Pinot Noir or a proper blowjob, is all about subtlety. Someone (I’m not naming names) needed to give the viewer more credit in their ability to recognise that New Moon is exactly like Romeo and Juliet; only there’s vampires instead of Montagues, and no real Capulets. Also, Romeo and Juliet were successful in killing themselves.
On a final note, while I’m not implying that product placement occurred in this film, I would like to remind you to take your JanSport backpack with you when you fly Virgin: the official airline of vampirism.
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