There’s something alienating about the new Twilight film. The super sheen teen saga has been derided by the majority of critics ever since its first instalment but I went in for it; partial to the first, patient through the second and pleased with the third, something about the romance and updated vampire folklore struck a chord with me. However Breaking Dawn (part one) proved more than a let down. The glitz of its set pieces and the milking dry of any hint of love or death almost convinced me the critics were right all along.
They weren’t though, not to begin with. And it wasn’t simply because I was still a teen (just) when Twilight the First came out. In that film, the awkward unease with which Bella (Kristen Stewart) squeezes into a new school and peer group comes across effectively, probably owing as much to Stewart’s own discomfort at acting as to the actual acting itself. The obsessive calf love and ferocious desire to remain in it – and young – forever is also piercing and painful (in a good way) to watch.
What changed gradually from film to film is partly to do with the storyline. The second film in particular begins to challenge the notion that Bella and Edward’s relationship is pure, infallible and even reciprocal. Not because of the hyped introduction of werewolf Jake as a love interest but because Edward begins to treat Bella like dirt. Not only does she suffer it gladly, by the third film his behaviour has been incorporated into their relationship as if it were one of its natural ingredients. As somebody whom the books passed by, I can only hope the final film sees Bella realising her mistake sharpish and serving her blood-junkie-lover a divorce inclusive of supernatural restraining order… or else a sharpish stake to the heart.
Anyway, back to this film. I saw it in the tiny room of an inner-city multiplex, the likes of which I’d never experienced before and only seen in films like Taxi Driver. Little over thirty seats, wider than deep with audio speakers not up to much. The worst thing was the small screen/close proximity combination, like watching TV with your nose against it (except not really that bad). The aisle down the middle also meant that any hope of an optimum viewing angle were best left at the miniscule door, a porthole with less soundproofing than a greenhouse window (except not really that bad). Wow, on to the film.
A metaphor for the room it was presented in, Breaking Dawn is one of the most alienating pictures I’ve seen in a while. Things like the stretched wedding scene and all its attached glamour seem contrary to Bella’s original philosophy and create glossy barriers that prevent our engagement with her. Weren’t we supposed to identify with her as a shambling outsider, strong and honest if not a little lonely as a result? All this is forgone in favour of the sentimental romance card – painful to watch (in a bad way). This could be forgivable, or at least ignorable, if it wasn’t for the desperate argument the film seems to be having with itself. “Am I glorifying the notion of love as a slow-motion pinnacle of perfection,” it says. “Or is this character engaged in a struggle between desire, expectation and the pitfalls of loving a blood-sucking monster?” Sure you can have both at the same time, but look to the first film for an example of how delicately this needs to be handled. You can’t play both to the max and hope the audience swoons at the first then undermines the swoon with a nail-biting squirm. The swoons should come unexpected, from the depths of terror so as you’re unsure what it is about revulsion that turns so attractive. Or something.
I’m sure this thing about splitting the final instalment of a series of novels in two when adapted for the screen will become standard practice – when the previous films have been successful and the opportunity arises to eek double profit from a story’s climax, any fine capitalist would. When this decision benefitted Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows, I was surprised. While the book certainly contains enough material for two films, I thought that the wealth of information left out of the previous films would make it hard to stretch Deathly Hallows out for four hours. Well, for whatever reason, it worked. The same cannot be said for Breaking Dawn. As I said, I haven’t read the Twilight books, so can’t have an opinion on how best to chop it up and spread it out, but the film I saw was thin and plot-starved. Simply not enough happened to merit its length. Yeah, yeah, I know some of history’s best films and plays delve into the intricacies of one single event (or less) but… Actually, that’s exactly what this film should have done. One thing happens, fine. But instead of details, instead of a raw study in the hopes and fears of each character, instead of a harrowing exploration of the possible outcomes, what fills in the gaps between A and B is more of Edward’s stern-faced platitudes and the surround sound cacophony of a gang of CG wolves arguing in human voices. I don’t know how the story ends, but I’m quite confident that the essential bits of this film could be tacked onto the beginning of the next without remotely extending its length.
Just boring really. The series has lost its life. It deserves 900 words merely to bear witness to its dullness in the hope that it might save someone else 117 minutes.
Jon Bates Writes 