On recent Sundays, The New York Times Book Review has included the following titles in its list of best-selling children’s book series, along with some helpful descriptions to explain what they are about:
6. VAMPIRE ACADEMY, by Richelle Mead. Undead boarding school.
5. HOUSE OF NIGHT, by P.C. Cast and Kristin Cast. Vampires in school.
3. VAMPIRE DIARIES, by L. J. Smith. Vampires in school, with a love triangle.
And coming in at number one, for the 112th week in the row....
1. THE TWILIGHT SAGA, by Stephenie Meyer. Vampires and werewolves in school.
A novice in the field of undead cultural studies, I found myself a bit confounded by the apparent obsession young teens have with vampires (and, judging by the dry wit that permeates these ultra-brief descriptions, The New York Times editors share my confusion). So, full of an inordinate amount of Halloween spirit, I decided I would watch Twilight and then write about it. As the torrent was downloading, my friends and I threw “a couple” back, and soon enough we were in the right state of mind to take in the film’s opening line, an immense existential quandary mumbled ominously by Bella (Kristen Stewart): “I had never given much thought to how I would die.”
Although it took me quite a while to wrap my head around the precise elements that make the film so addictive to young teenage girls, the film’s atmosphere began to arrest me as well. In between Bella’s deadpan, monotonous non-expressions and Edward’s (Robert Pattinson) purse-lipped fire-eating stares (which, in sum, make up about 75 percent of the film), I started to see what it’s really all about: the implications of creating a teen-romance iteration of the pre-Christian Slavic ritualistic pagan folklore—where the traditional Eastern European ideas of metaphysical transmigration allow an unclean soul to occupy a physical body and remain “alive” but also not alive (and they can fly, apparently!) enacting their vengeance on the humans who forced them into this position by subsisting on their blood and existing as Sibylline immortals, unable to die. All of this continues the tradition of re-imagining the original vampire myth, which is the story that has inspired one of the more enduring figures of horror in literature and pop culture.
OK, fine—so I’m not sure if those theories hold water, but I still don’t think it’s a coincidence that our lovebirds Bella and Edward enact their romance in the wettest place in the continental U.S. Edward and the rest of his undead clan of Cullens have evidently come to this rainy and coast-flanked dreary piece of land in the Pacific Northwest because the constantly overcast skies provide the perfect weather for pale, sun-fearing fellows. As the movie continues, Bella’s fascination with this century-old 17-year-old grows—she even seeks out a magical old Native American to get her a book on the mysticism of bloodsuckers. And suddenly, they’re in the forest à la Hester and Dimmesdale in The Scarlet Letter, enacting their illicit romance in the moist, secluded environment.
That’s about the time I passed out. But after looking up the rest on Wikipedia, I think I get the general gist of it. Plot aside, I want to figure out why there’s a pandemic-level interest in this movie. And its sequel, “New Moon,” which will probably stay trending on Twitter for, oh, two months straight around the time of its Nov. 20 opening. I came up with a few reasons: first, Bella isn’t intimidatingly attractive, which allows delusional teenage girls to indulge in the fantasy wherein they could win Edward away from her; second, there’s got to be something going on with all that staring and breathing; third, Robert Pattinson’s hair actually looks pretty awesome (it’s like a punk-rock Flock of Seagulls, constantly defying gravity). Come to think of it, I’m going to go on record and say that, after some research, I think Robert Pattinson is actually a pretty legit guy: he smokes cigarettes, pops valium, apparently has a raging drinking problem and sports this pea coat during the movie that I would wear in a second.
But winter wear aside, the movie sort of sucked—it didn’t make much sense and most of the dialogue was laughably bad. That doesn’t matter if you’re in a theater where the wails and screams of swooning girls drown out the actual movie, but if you’re watching in an apartment, you might need something with which to wash it all down.
Nate Freeman is a Trinity senior. His column runs every Friday.
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