A swirling, reddish mist crawled through a burning screen, weaving in and out of the sinister, shining letters perched forebodingly atop a cloud of blood-red sky — Breaking Dawn: Part 1. As I laughed quietly at this overly gory attempt at a solemn introduction, I had no idea how many snorts and taunts I had yet to humorously indulge.
The last book of the Twilight Saga, Breaking Dawn, was mercilessly turned into a money guzzling, large-scale blockbuster filled with enough hormonally satisfying scenes to spin out a wildly ecstatic teenage assembly without any help from a well-executed storyline or decent cast members.
As if its sad excuse for a movie wasn’t enough of a hustling joke, Summit Entertainment decided to cheat its crazed Twilight addicts even further by splitting their last installment of the series into two different parts.
Breaking Dawn: Part 1 is basically a blurry montage of heavy breathing, awkward eye contact and reciprocated voices (and by that I mean Bella sounds like a man and Jacob sounds like a girl). It takes the audience through some specials times in the lives of the stone cold vampire, Edward Cullen, and his spastic bride, Bella Swan, including a wedding and the birth of their first and only half human/half vampire child.
If you doubt that the movie could possibly be as weird as it sounds … you shouldn’t. It is as strange as your most disturbing, cross-species breeding dreams and beyond. I don’t even know where to start. Okay, how about a shirtless Jacob? Because that is literally the first thing I saw after the so tastefully done intro-slide.
I don’t understand how a movie with so much power, so much potential and so many dedicated fans could repeatedly resort to the same, sick tactic. Don’t get me wrong here, I like a shirtless Jacob just as much as the next girl, but seriously?
Breaking Dawn: Part 1 showed its true, pathetic colors through a nice shade of chiseled, bronzed chest just five seconds into the film. The fact that the writers once again relied on the physical appeal of their predominately female audience to an attractive Taylor Lautner (The Adventures of Sharkboy and Lavagirl, Abduction) shows just how lacking of true cinematic/screenplay/acting/basically everything talent the makers of the Twilight Saga seem to be.
While I’ll admit I used to be a fan of the books (I try to suppress that phase of my life. Plus, like you weren’t?) and still get just a teensy bit excited when I see that sweeping shot of those deep-green, pointy, Washington forests the first time I see a trailer for the next movie, I am no longer fascinated by that mystical creature us mere humans call Edward Cullen. Probably because he’s played by Robert Pattinson (Harry Potter and the Goblet of Fire, Water for Elephants).
Although he’s not unattractive (he’s kind of nice looking after you get over those caterpillar eyebrows and that untamed, barbarian thing he calls a hairstyle), he manages to do a good job at reminding me that he is not the Edward I read about in the books. Some say a real person like the character of Edward Cullen is nonexistent or impossible to find, but I think the casting director could’ve done a better job than a man who looks more like an adorable pet lemur than an alluring, gorgeous superhuman.
And Edward Cullen’s looks are not what make every other boy on earth, Robert Pattinson included, fail in comparison — it’s the way he effortlessly becomes the sweetest person on the planet, one who cares and loves Bella with an insurmountable amount of respect and truth. His charm and sincerity fail to transmit themselves through the words of Pattinson and into the audience’s hearts, so there goes much of the real, lovely connection between Edward and Bella you feel from reading the books.
Speaking of Bella…does Kristen Stewart (Catch That Kid, Adventureland) have some sort of tracheal disorder that I don’t know about? One that forces her to sound like she’s rasping for breath, barely clinging to the words she says as they shimmy themselves out of that dark cave of her mouth like deep, manly echoes? If I had a penny for every time she makes a supremely awkwardly placed intake of breath or whiney, choked upon statement, I would have enough money to fire her and hire someone who doesn’t sound like a strangled 40-year-old.
The lead roles fail to create a true sense of not only the characters they’re supposed to be in the books, but of any characters or lovers who are remotely relatable or likable. Their awkwardness gives their presence and overall personalities a coldness and aura of falsehood.
Throughout the film, every single serious moment was plagued by an unholy choir of background music. This added to the overdramatic dialogue and acting so that I was legitimately expecting someone to pop out from behind everyone’s plastered on looks of concern and yell, “Live from New York, it’s Saturday night!” Unfortunately, pitifully, sadly, call it what you may, nobody did. And that was probably what made it even funnier.
The only reason you should go to this movie is if you have either A. read the books and feel a humiliating but mandatory sense to carry out the Twilight viewing tradition, B. are forced to go by someone you’re trying to make happy or C. want a good laugh.
By Abbie Powers