Nosferaturd

[Film] The Twilight Saga: Eclipse

The turd film in the Twishite Saga – a franchise in which even when something is happening, nothing is happening – this might finally be the one that sees me declare ‘I’m out.’ Sure, the previous two films have provided plenty of ironic guffaws, but can the franchise sustain even the most ardent shitfilmliker, such as myself?

The action resumes with R Twatz back in Sporks after his abortive suicide break in Italy. Since being spared by Kenneth Williams he’s got a newfound zest for undeath. He’s never been happier, shooting the shit with Bella in a rolling meadow, experimenting with some slightly lighter shades of charcoal grey, and even treating himself to a brand-spanking new Volvo. This one has fittings for a roof-rack. The guy is edgy. But that’s not to say he doesn’t have his problems – Bella is all up in his grille asking him to suck what remaining life there is out of her, while Edward’s all about putting a ring on it, especially with local Teen Wolf and love rival Jacob threatening to spray his territory. In the end they decide to compromise – she’ll become Mrs Bella Dull ‘un if he agrees to suck her dry. But hey, so-called relationship drama isn’t all the film is about.

Domestic bliss is short-lived, and the sparkly twat’s constipated gaze soon returns when he gets word that something is brewing in Seattle at the hands of an ultra-violent cabal of grunge vampires. The Cullens (and the continually tedious Volturi) have been tracking the situation for a while – killings are up fivefold, not to mention sales of plaid shirts, bran muffins and Pearl Jam records. Meanwhile Bella is still grounded for the whole doing one to Italy thing, but fortunately her walking moustache of a father offers to lift her curfew if she promises to stop obsessing over Edward and go out and do other things, like Jacob. Nosferaturd is non-too pleased about his chick spending time with a dude with such wicked abs and wide range of cargo shorts, and proceeds to skulk around like Max Schrek’s super-hot teenage nephew. The sullen Cullen puts a real dampener on Bella’s trip to Florida to see her mum, but this is at least enlivened when she’s given the gift of a quilt made of old t-shirts. You shouldn’t have.

Anyway, it soon becomes apparent that the mastermind behind the swelling ranks of the New Blood army in Seattle is none other than Victoria, arch nemesis of Edward, ever since he reduced her boyfriend to the contents of a Dyson. Her latest ginger hair-brained scheme is to lead this band of fitter, stronger vampires back to Sporks to lay waste to the Dull ‘un clan, and of course Edward’s chosen Swan: Bella. Her secret weapon in this quest is former Sporks resident and newly clunge-blinded Riley. He just wants to get all up in Victoria and doesn’t see that she’s using him. He’s not the first hired dick to be duped by an ice cold redhead, and he won’t be the last either.

Back in Sporks and Jacob is totally off the leash, sexing it up a notch, oiling up his man-jugs at every opportunity and threatening to ‘imprint’ Bella – “you’d know about it if I had.” At this point Edward has no choice but to suck it up, as it becomes obvious the rival vampire and werewolf factions will have to put their differences aside and work together. Just like the Conservatives and Lib Dems. Man, this film has levels. Bella, for her part, tries to ease tensions by asking her love rivals to think of her as Switzerland. A primary exporter of chocolate and notorious paedophile playground? Don’t really see how that helps, personally.

But frustratingly for him, looks like Teen Wolf will have to go back to humping a chair leg, because Bella decides that despite the prospect of getting into Jacob’s cream undercrackers being very appealing, Edward really is the one for her. So they head back to his immaculately appointed woodland lodge for a bit of how’s your great great grandfather. But much to Bella’s chagrin, despite the 100 year old’s dry spell being so long that Bob Geldof and Midge Ure are recording a charity single about it, Vlad won’t impale ‘er on his bedazzled vampire cock. Turns out he’s just an old fashioned kinda guy. Either that or there’s a deeper reason for his animosity towards Jacob, as they continue to trade positively Wildean insults: “You smell.” “No, you smell.” *Boom* Roasted.

Eventually, after the obligatory vampire/werewolf training camp montage, led by ex-Confederate soldier and former Bush frontman Gavin Rossdale, the rival vamps get it on in a field, Grange Hill style, for some strictly PG 13 violence. It would be fair to say the tension is hardly ratcheted up to eleven as the grunge vamps break into metaphorical chorus of ‘Who Let The Dogs Out?‘ and are bested easily. As is Victoria, R Twatz yanking her head off by its exquisite flame red curls. This leaves just enough time for the unwelcome return of the Volturi, and even less welcome, more acting from Dakota Fanning – or The Annoying One as Buffy’s Spike would no doubt call her. Then it’s back to the meadow for Ed and Bellz to shoot another Lenor ad.

So in answer to the question I posed at the start of this review, the answer is sadly, no. Sure, I know these films were never aimed at me in the first place, but it’s at this point that I have to come to the crushing realisation that I no longer have anything in common with fourteen year old girls. The criticism that Bella is nothing but a moody indie mope – the dreary complaint rock of the Bella Union roster aptly soundtracking Bella’s union – I can live with. I was once like that myself, and if I was still fifteen I’d be all over that. But save the odd solid gold R Twatz zinger, delivered in the same dry Steven Wright-style monotone as the rest of his dialogue, nothing is added and anything I once found remotely entertaining is diminished. There are more prolonged silences than Claire’s Knee and it delivers none on the action, romance or horror promised on the poster. Ultimately, much like Bella’s bedroom activity up to now, I found it to be one long dry hump.

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