Twilight received some excellent reviews in the UK. There is one review however, that really made me laugh so hard that I feel compelled to share with you. This review is from the Telegraph.co.uk. Brits definitely have a sense of humor.
It would be terrible to have a daughter like Bella Swan. She's articulate, quite attractive, intelligent. But, boy, does she have terrible taste when it comes to the opposite sex. What kind of girl would go out with someone whose idea of small talk is: "I'm the world's most dangerous predator"?
How disappointed would you be if you raised a child who, confronted by a chap announcing "I'm designed to kill", replied: "I don't care"? Admittedly, he looks more like Justin Timberlake than Bela Lugosi. Still, if he looks into your daughter's eyes and says: "I've never wanted a human's blood so much", the last thing you'd want her to retort is: "I trust you."
Such though is the premise of Twilight, Catherine Hardwicke's adaptation of Stephenie Meyer's teen novels that in recent years have been racking up sales approaching Harry Potter status. Bella (Kristen Stewart) leaves Arizona to join her father, a police officer, who lives alone in the perpetually wintry north-western town of Forks.
At her new school, she's a pale face in a sea of multicultural, cheerfully prom-going types, a girl whose self-deprecating eloquence – "I'm really the suffer-in-silence type," she says at one point – may lead those unfamiliar with the source material to think that she's going to be a sassy outsider in the mould of Beavis and Butt-head spin-off character Daria.
But Bella's not really a riot grrl. It turns out she's just waiting to be swept off her feet by love. Literally: the object of her desire is a moody, alabaster-white-faced young man called Edward Cullen (Robert Pattinson, Cedric Diggory in the last Harry Potter movie) who is neither young (he's been kicking about since the First World War), nor really a man (he's a vampire blessed with the ability to give his dates aeronautic piggybacks across breathtakingly beautiful forests).
Serious and clenched, a Heathcliff for adolescents, he's also a bionic superhero who appears from nowhere to save her from the clutches of growly bad boys and has merely to stretch out an immaculately muscled arm to stop cars crashing into her.
Hardwicke directed Thirteen and knows a thing or two about the complicated imaginations of young women today. Critics of Meyer's novels have argued that the books are propaganda for the author's Mormonism, propaganda that chimes with the burgeoning pro-abstinence ideology of Christian organisations such as True Love Waits.
Hardwicke, though, understands that the novels tap into a yearning that a particular kind of adolescent cultivates for a deeper, richer form of romance that seems masochistic and depressing only to outsiders. I watched Twilight in a cinema full of young girls who, when they weren't texting friends and guzzling soft drinks, giggled, sighed and exhaled with a passion that was not only endearing, but a measure of its emotional truth.
And yet, while the film slathers the action in appropriately gothic timbres and textures, including Muse and Perry Farrell on its doomily dynamic soundtrack, its most enjoyable scenes are the least portentous. Especially delightful is the "Meet the Vampires" sequence in which Bella first visits the Cullens' wood-and-glass mountain cabin ("What did you expect? Coffins and dungeons and moats?"), where the bloodsuckers are busy grating cheese and drizzling salad with olive oil ("We think of ourselves as vegetarian").
Twilight loses the plot the more it tries to emphasise it. The second half, in which Bella plays baseball during a thunderstorm and get chased by white-teethed rogues, contains enough plot lines and dramatic goings-on to consume an entire television series. Hardwicke handles them with palpably less flair or relish than the earlier courting scenes. For a more beguiling fusion of mood and mayhem, look out in the spring for the release of a fantastic Swedish teen-vampire film called Let the Right One In.
Still, it's been ages since I've seen such a quiveringly earnest – to say nothing about chaste – film about adolescent desire. Ages since a character told the audience she was "unconditionally and irrevocably in love" with a boy. True love should wait more often.
Source: Telegraph.co.uk
It would be terrible to have a daughter like Bella Swan. She's articulate, quite attractive, intelligent. But, boy, does she have terrible taste when it comes to the opposite sex. What kind of girl would go out with someone whose idea of small talk is: "I'm the world's most dangerous predator"?How disappointed would you be if you raised a child who, confronted by a chap announcing "I'm designed to kill", replied: "I don't care"? Admittedly, he looks more like Justin Timberlake than Bela Lugosi. Still, if he looks into your daughter's eyes and says: "I've never wanted a human's blood so much", the last thing you'd want her to retort is: "I trust you."
Such though is the premise of Twilight, Catherine Hardwicke's adaptation of Stephenie Meyer's teen novels that in recent years have been racking up sales approaching Harry Potter status. Bella (Kristen Stewart) leaves Arizona to join her father, a police officer, who lives alone in the perpetually wintry north-western town of Forks.
At her new school, she's a pale face in a sea of multicultural, cheerfully prom-going types, a girl whose self-deprecating eloquence – "I'm really the suffer-in-silence type," she says at one point – may lead those unfamiliar with the source material to think that she's going to be a sassy outsider in the mould of Beavis and Butt-head spin-off character Daria.
But Bella's not really a riot grrl. It turns out she's just waiting to be swept off her feet by love. Literally: the object of her desire is a moody, alabaster-white-faced young man called Edward Cullen (Robert Pattinson, Cedric Diggory in the last Harry Potter movie) who is neither young (he's been kicking about since the First World War), nor really a man (he's a vampire blessed with the ability to give his dates aeronautic piggybacks across breathtakingly beautiful forests).
Serious and clenched, a Heathcliff for adolescents, he's also a bionic superhero who appears from nowhere to save her from the clutches of growly bad boys and has merely to stretch out an immaculately muscled arm to stop cars crashing into her.
Hardwicke directed Thirteen and knows a thing or two about the complicated imaginations of young women today. Critics of Meyer's novels have argued that the books are propaganda for the author's Mormonism, propaganda that chimes with the burgeoning pro-abstinence ideology of Christian organisations such as True Love Waits.
Hardwicke, though, understands that the novels tap into a yearning that a particular kind of adolescent cultivates for a deeper, richer form of romance that seems masochistic and depressing only to outsiders. I watched Twilight in a cinema full of young girls who, when they weren't texting friends and guzzling soft drinks, giggled, sighed and exhaled with a passion that was not only endearing, but a measure of its emotional truth.
And yet, while the film slathers the action in appropriately gothic timbres and textures, including Muse and Perry Farrell on its doomily dynamic soundtrack, its most enjoyable scenes are the least portentous. Especially delightful is the "Meet the Vampires" sequence in which Bella first visits the Cullens' wood-and-glass mountain cabin ("What did you expect? Coffins and dungeons and moats?"), where the bloodsuckers are busy grating cheese and drizzling salad with olive oil ("We think of ourselves as vegetarian").
Twilight loses the plot the more it tries to emphasise it. The second half, in which Bella plays baseball during a thunderstorm and get chased by white-teethed rogues, contains enough plot lines and dramatic goings-on to consume an entire television series. Hardwicke handles them with palpably less flair or relish than the earlier courting scenes. For a more beguiling fusion of mood and mayhem, look out in the spring for the release of a fantastic Swedish teen-vampire film called Let the Right One In.
Still, it's been ages since I've seen such a quiveringly earnest – to say nothing about chaste – film about adolescent desire. Ages since a character told the audience she was "unconditionally and irrevocably in love" with a boy. True love should wait more often.
Source: Telegraph.co.uk
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