I don’t know about the rest of you, but I cannot WAIT for Breaking Dawn to get released. I long for the day when that movie gets released in theatres so I can see the faces of all the Twihards. It would be like Watchmen fans getting slapped in the face with the blue doctor’s lower Manhattan.
Apparently, there’s speculation that Chris Weitz is backing out of the director’s chair. I don’t know how this is speculation when David Slade’s been brought on to direct the third installment Eclipse. David Slade directed Hard Candy and 30 Days of Night. Which makes him perfect for Eclipse since he managed to make a stirring 90 minute flick out of a short film’s worth of plot.
Who cares?! It doesn’t matter who they get to helm this trainwreck because the story itself is doomed to destroy minds and hearts for four simple reasons.
I’M ABOUT TO EXPLAIN WHAT HAPPENS IN THE LAST BOOK OF TWILIGHT. IF YOU DON’T WANT TO KNOW, GO HIDE IN A CORNER AND LISTEN TO PARAMORE.
Point 1: Bella and Edward get their fuck on. There’s no way around this, no matter how tastefully they try to artistry it, Edward puts a baby in Bella’s womb after whaling on her because she’s into the rough sex. Nothing like encouraging an entire generation of little girls to be childbrides. Because high school relationships matter more than anything in your life.
Point 2: The baby — who’s name is Renesmee — rips open Bella’s stomach and claws her way out. And then promptly STARTS TALKING. I don’t care how good Jimbo Cameron made the kittenchimps look, there’s no amount of CGI that can make talking babies anything less than absolutely fucking ridiculous. A tank falling out of an airplane makes more fucking sense than a goddamn Lars and the Real Infant.
Point 3: But that’s OK, Team Jacob. Let’s talk about imprinting. The werewolves imprint — which means when a boy and girl see each other across a crowded room, they fall instantly in love, as if they are meant for each other and there can be no other. Like when I met your mom. Doesn’t matter if you bring your girlfriend you’ve been dating for five years, if your boy spies her and gets the little magic “skaboing!” in his noggin, that’s the ballgame. And it doesn’t matter if the boy wolf is 11 and the girl is 78.
Or … if she’s a baby. They’ll get a taste for it when one of the wolves imprints a baby in the third flick. But that won’t help the impact when Jacob imprints Renesmee. That’s right. Jacob falls madly in love with a fucking baby.
Now, they don’t get their fuck on. It’s not pedophilia, yet. It’s just that you’ll do anything you can to protect your one true love. Even if it’s a creepy talking CGI baby that tore it’s way out of your best friend’s vampire womb after a night of teenage married rough sex.
Which gets us to point 4, the final battle since we’re talking about CGI. Because they won’t need any of it.
The final battle is the biggest clusterfuck cockblock of all time. Both armies gather to throw down. Werewolves, and vampires, and supervampires with their magic powers and shit. And they all face off in a field — the same one they played lightning baseball in.
And then it becomes Scanners without exploding heads. Literally, the final fight is two psychic vampires imaginariuming their shields around each other. It’s like playing chess without moving the pieces. There’s no fighting. There’s no battle. The psychics defeat each other, and then everyone walks away. It’s worse than having your hero get his head cut off by the bad guy after fighting his way to the end. It’s not even fighting at all. It’s calling the Super Bowl by the coin toss. It’s the most unsatisfying, unfilmable, unreasonable finale ever made.
AND THEY WANT TO SPLIT THIS BOOK INTO TWO MOVIES.
So, how’s Twilight like Harry Potter again?