As summer temperatures escalate, most people can only think about the night, when the sun goes down and the moon allures with a sense of cool. Unfortunately, moviegoers respond in much the same manner and are rewarded with a blockbuster lineup which leaves more than a bit to be desired.
Two weeks ago Summit Entertainment rolled out the next adapted installment of Stephanie Meyer’s wildfire “Twilight” series. As with its predecessors, the film continues the tawdry love affair of Bella Swan, the overly emotional teenage “everywoman” and her Purgatoried vampire beau Edward Cullen. There is also that perpetual cockblock Jacob Black, who despite wolfpack bros and their whiles cannot seem to get Bella’s love or time. When she does hang out, he pounces on her, in a hilarious display that ends with hurt pride and a sprained hand.
Many critics of the series have noted that the acting seems passionless and the characters overly mechanical. This reviewer maintains, however, that these shortcomings are not the fault of the cast in any way. Though Rob Pattinson will ride his looks as long as possible, he is still affably mediocre when he isn’t trying to brood. In fact, Pattinson turns in the least awkward performance this time around, showing that like his fellow Harry Potter alumni, repetition lends the actor a sense of living in their character and putting forth a convincing front, regardless of if they can actually have any talent.
The same goes for leading lady Kristen Stewart, who has neither isolation or a vampiric tracker to scrapple with this time around, pondering more whether or not to undergo the venomous change to bloodsucker and kiss goodbye all she knows as a human. Stewart’s acting has not so much improved as much as her material provides more to work with. Though she may not hold a little gold guy anytime soon, the actress’s lesser-known material and smaller run efforts have cemented her career for a respectable trajectory, possibly with the leading role of damaged hacking prodigy Lisbeth Salander in the American adaptations of Stieg Larsson’s best-selling “Millenium” trilogy.
The real problem with “Eclipse” and its ilk falls on Meyer, whose “Just Wait” take on Harlequin romance should never have gotten as far as it has. As come cliche-spewing genius once quoth, “There is no accounting for taste.” And in the case of Meyer’s work, it is even understandable how one could be drawn in.
Vampires! Werewolves! Washington!
OK, maybe not the last one for the tweens, although the Pacific Northwest’s geography and cinematic quality often salvage the aforementioned skullduggery of the author. The characters, even given their supernatural conceits, lack the quality of human creation, the most common of all aesthetic qualities in art. Though cultures may forever separate certain groups of humans, at least everyone can relate to certain universal feelings. Meyer apparently is unfamiliar with any or has lived under a rock of unrequited love for a literal eternity. I feel no sympathy.
