So for about 3 weeks after I saw it, I had been working on a review of the second entry into the Twilight Saga films, New Moon. Trying to, somehow, push aside my derision and hatred for this entire series and watch it with an open mind. Eventually I gave up as I realized that riffing on this series is like fighting a blind man. You just feel dirty for lowering yourself to that level.
Then I remembered seeing the droves of fangirls in orgasmic glee over the fucking title screen for this train wreck and realized this shit has to be stopped. It is for the greater good, after all.
I could talk about how much of a black hole control freak prick Edward is. How mind-numbingly codependent and vapid Bella is in regards to him everything. How much of a complete Black Hole Sue (character with no significant flaws and/or personality that draws all the attention and for whom other characters bend backwards to accommodate them) she is. How utterly idiotic Stephanie Meyer was to try and explain the “logic” behind her “vampires” with “science”.
But I’ll just stick to my original point (the plot of this movie) because even my masochism has limits. Considering I sat through movies like War of the Worlds, the Star Wars prequels, and Garfield to write reviews on them for school newspapers, that’s saying something.
So the movie starts out with a Moon that is slowly being eclipsed to reveal the title card, much to the fangirls’ rejoicing. Oh yeah, did I mention I saw this on opening night so I wouldn’t be forced to suffer alone? Yeah that didn’t help much. It then opens to Bella mumbling off some nonsense about how “violent delights have violent ends” but some how “die like fire and powder” which I assume was supposed to sound deep but comes off as merely pretentious. I will give the movie credit here by giving us a slow-mo shot of Bella running through a crowd of Halloween rejects before suddenly appearing in a field of flowers.
I’d call “WTF” on the sudden teleporting from a crowded square to a forest/field but I admit that I was paying more attention to the interesting things Kristen Stewart’s chest does as she comes to a stop. Tengo culpa. She walks up a bit and the camera pans over to the other side of this place (we have no clue where the fuck this is) to see an old woman standing there looking confused (I feel you on that one, lady) who Bella confuses for her “Gran”. We are then treated to a musical cue and Edward appearing in all his byronic glory (my ears kind of died a bit here from the screams) and Bella immediately tells him to leave before her “gran” sees him sparkle like the pansy he is. Our intrepid couple and “gran” walk towards each other and shock of shocks, it dawns on Bella that her “gran” is really herself when she is an elderly woman.
This is her seriously worst fear, growing old while Edward continues to look like a teenager/young adult forever. Why does this seem vaguely familiar? Ah that’s right, because Joss Whedon all ready showed how doomed this type of relationship was from the start with Buffy and Angel. She then wakes up on the morning of her 18th birthday with a copy of Romeo & Juliet by her head. When she reads the story of one of the most unhealthy relationships in literature and then dreams of Edward, I have to bite my lip to keep from laughing at the irony of it all.
After a short exchange where her dad gives her some gifts and jokes about her having a grey hair, we jump to Bella driving in her truck down the road while the radio warns how there are missing hikers and a killer animal on the loose but Bella, genre savvy creature that she is, ignores this entirely. The next 5 minutes are seriously nothing but a scene with the muggle high schoolers and a scene with Edward that is 30 seconds of him walking while the wind blows his overshirt back. Gag. Said fanservice is followed by Jacob appearing to give Bella a dream catcher while Edward stands in the background like the overproctective hawk that he really is.
The following is what passes for an honest-to-God conversation between these two special folks.
Edward: “So how come Jacob Black gets to give you a gift and I don’t?”
Bella: “Because I have no idea what to get you.”
Edward: “You give me everything just by breathing.”
The Hell? OK, I am done taking pot shots at the “relationship” between these two because there is a plot here. Somewhere. Maybe.
OK their English class is watching Romeo & Juliet while Edward & Bella talk. They get busted by the teacher. Edward proves his sensitivity by reciting lines that he has to have heard dozens of times considering he repeats high school every few years.
Afterwards, we are introduced to The Volturi who are the vampire nobles that govern the rest. Their one law? That The Masquerade be maintained by keeping their hunting inconspicuous with the punishment for breaking this rule being death by being literally ripped apart. Why is never really explained as humans are seriously like tissue paper to these people.
So the Cullens throw Bella what has to be the most monotonous (and shortest) birthday party in history when things go SNAFU as Bella’s super delicious blood is leaking from a paper cut and Jasper goes ape shit. Edward blocks his “cousin” while throwing his mortal girlfriend back into a wall. This was a BAD idea as every person in the room now looks at her like a happy-meal-on-legs because of the blood covering her arm. Jasper is strong armed out while Edward realizes that his family is indeed a pack of bloodthirsty supermen who could kill his girlfriend at any time. If only, if only.
Next we have this scene of Edward in Bella’s room looking at a picture of the two of them together and then taking her into the woods so they can have a talk. He tells that he and his family are living Forks for good as people are noticing how Carlsisle isn’t aging apparently. Bella is crushed as her sole reason for living is telling her in a roundabout way that he (like all vampires) is always tempted to suck her dry. He then disappears leaving her in the woods as that is more dramatic where she runs after them. Yeah apparently she forgot in her grief that he has super speed. She then collapses on the ground, weeping.
She is then rescued by a shirtless Sam and brought to her father who has been frantic trying to find her. After that Bella basically becomes Emily Dickinson and mopes from September to December. This is intercut with scenes of her alienating herself from her human friends completely. Shrieking like she has been possessed in her sleep. All the while with a voiceover of how she is lost without the vampires (as she literally has no meaning without being the distressed damsel) and how the pain is good because it reminds her that Edward was real. To top of the clusterfuck of melodrama, we are treated to one of the most wangsty songs since before “How To Save A Life” was rescued from the heap by Scrubs throughtout this montage. Basically, she sounds like your average, depressed, misunderstood teenager.
Finally Charlie puts his foot down and tells her she is going to Jacksonville to live with her mother. She panics at this and makes up a bullshit excuse about going shopping with her friends to show she really is adjusting to vampire-free life. Charlie, the fucking idiot, buys it. Just when I had hopes for this movie too.
What follows is quite possibly the most painful moments in cinema I’ve seen in years. Bella, after having to remind her friend just who she is, goes to see a zombie movie. I may take pot shots at Bella for being vapid and more than a bit shallow but good Lord, I could almost feel the women’s lib movement being wiped out as I listening to her prattle on in valley-speak. Even BELLA looks like she wants to punch the girl in the face. Bella then tunes her out (thank God) as she sees a bunch of guys on bikes that remind of her of the assholes who tried to gangrape her that Edward rescued her from. Do You hate us so, God? Oh and thanks movie for perpetuating the ideas that all bikers = criminals. Sigh. She then sees Edward’s floating semi-transparent head (I am not making this up) telling her to keep walking. So what does Bella do? She says “I think I know them” and decides to WALK OVER TO THE PEOPLE SHE THINKS TRIED TO RAPE HER. She then sees Ghost Edward again telling her to turn around. She ignores it and stares at the one of the guys like a psycho. Oh it’s not her attempted-rapist after all. LOL. Somebody, shoot me. Please. In an effort to prove her idiocy beyond all doubt she hops on the back of the mistaken-rapist-guy’s bike.
To spite Ghost Edward.
She then meets back up with Jessica who speaks for us all when she calls Bella out on her idiocy.
Bella’s conclusion from this experience? “If a rush of danger is what it takes to see him, then that’s what I’ll find.”
There are no words. None.
Then we are given a scene that is nothing but padding of Bella bringing some motorcycles to Jacob so she can go thrill seek which leads to two other boys from the Quileute Tribe, Quil and Embry, who rib Jacob for his obvious crush on Bella’s non-even conceived fetus pasty self. You, the viewer, and Bella slowly realize that she is starting to care for Jacob even if he can’t keep the demonic dreams away. I admit that while reading the books I did support a Jacob/Bella relationship around this point until Breaking Dawn which killed any sympathy I had left for him. The male werewolves are sick fucks and that’s all I’m going to say on that.
Bella and Jacob are then driving down the road by the sea when we see a bunch of guys push someone off a cliff. Bella pulls over thinking they’re dead when Jacob explains they’re just cliff diving which “is a total rush.” I was by no means the only person who smacked their forehead on that one. Nice choice of words there, Idiot. What follows can only be described as a caustic tale in motorcycle safety with the moral: “Do not operate when having hallucinations of your vampire ex-boyfriend.” Pity, that’s not in the owner’s manual. Bella, of course, face plants. She apologizes for bleeding (battered person syndrome, anyone?) and he then takes off his shirt to mop up the cut on her forehead.
Bella proceeds to try and rejoin her old friends at lunch with the lovely ice breaker of how there are now 5 dead hikers whose killer her dad is trying to track down. Despite the fact that she clearly has no idea how to interact with these kids, they handwave her abnormality instead of shunning like most real teenagers would for ditching them. One kid, whose name I forget and who also has a crush on her, decides to ask her out to the movies now that she’s talking and eating again. Bella, caring person she is, accepts. Thus leading the poor guy on. You’ll notice a pattern of that here. She suggests going to see a movie called “Face Punch” (again, I am not making this up). Nameless-human-boy and Jacob somehow end up being the only two who show up at the theater trying (and failing) to insult each other. All the other muggle kids had other plans at the last minute.
With the way this movie has dragged on, I can’t fault them.
OK, I have to be at least at the halfway mark. 40 MINUTES?! I’ve sat here for what feels like for-fucking-ever and I’m not even an hour into this thing?! Absolute nothing happens! No. No. Nononono. Does not compute. DOES NOT COMPUTE! I can’t take any more of this bullshit movie! It was bad enough watching it once. Now watching it again to write the review? Fuck that noise. I’m done. You all can find someone else to do this goddamn review.
To be continued?
**I mean no disrespect to Emily Dickinson, she’s one of my favourite writers. But I won’t deny that the woman was a recluse.
***The “Does Not Compute” gag belongs to The Nostalgia Critic.
****I still can’t believe how long it takes this damn thing to get past all its padding and to the point.
Like many Gen Y-ers, I remember clearly the pop craze of the mid- to late 90’s and early 2000 era. And you had to be under a rock to not be exposed to the music of one Britney Spears. “… Baby One More Time”, “Oops! I Did It Again”, and “Stronger” were like the tween girl theme songs back in the day. I remember a teacher of mine at the time saying she had a good message for young girls.
I also remember watching the video for “Oops! I Did It Again” the first time and thinking “…so that’s what they mean by Catholic schoolgirl.” Oh puberty, you really did do a screw-job with my logic.
But I digress.
Now this is a woman who for most of my late teenage/early adult life has pretty much personified the phrase “fallen starlet”. From the young girl on The Mickey Mouse Club (holy nostalgia, Batman) to the pop queen to a woman who loses her kids in a horrendous divorce and highly covered custody battle, loses her aunt to ovarian cancer, attacks a paparazzi vehicle with an umbrella, and most memorably checks herself into a drug rehab center, leaves after 24 hours and shaves her head bald, then checks herself into another one.
I am happy to hear that she is now back on the music scene and now trying to move on from the drama of the last 3 years, getting her act together.
According to Billboard, her new album titled “Circus” is the #7 in sales, only having been moved from its #6 spot by the release of the Notorious soundtrack. Logically this would mean that it is just a wee bit popular.
So while I was browsing the Internets during my break at work yesterday, I stumble across this article about The Parents Television Council ( a non-profit organization with a mission “to promote and restore responsibility to the entertainment industry”) expressing outrage that one of her songs “If U Seek Amy” is playing at peak times when children may stumble across it as if you really listen you realize what she is saying when she sings the title.
Almost predictably, Top 40 stations have continued to play the song heavily against the PTC’s protests.
I have about two basic responses to the whole situation.
- Stations will play what earns them ratings. Point blank. They may edit the songs slightly but they are not all that known for bowing to pressure to stop playing one of their top songs. It’s good business people.
- To parents who agree with the PTC, if you hear the song while your child(ren) is around then simply change the station or turn the radio off all together.
In conclusion, with all the horrible things in the world right now, this is what the PTC gets their knickers in a wad over? Seriously folks? Seriously?!
There are these little things called priorities, try and find them please.
Hey folks, it’s that time again. Because I am so
dull awesome, I’m going to be doing two prompts this week. The first of this week’s prompts from Mama Kat is
4.) Write about something that bothered you this week.
I am not close to either of my parents. I never have been and I doubt I ever really will be. My mom worked all the time and my dad…well he did anything but hang around us. So when my mom had a new job when I was 15 and wanted to spend time with me, I was really really jaded towards her. Still am, I suppose. We’ve made progress since then but she is not someone I go to with my problems.
So with Thanksgiving coming up I needed to finalize my plans. I called her before heading to my first graders this morning where she kind of started to give me the fifth degree because I wouldn’t be getting there until Thursday morning and don’t plan to stay any longer than Saturday afternoon.
She asked me why I couldn’t come home Wednesday. I replied that I had a test Wednesday night and would rather not have to drive an hour and a half afterward. And as for me leaving on Saturday, I’ve learned my lesson about spending too much time there.
I won’t go into specifics but my last visit consisted mainly of arguing, tears, and alcohol. Not even necessarily in that order.
Then afterward I feel guilty that I am not staying longer though I know good and well that I’d be miserable. So when my cousins leave, I won’t be far behind them. I was actually told I was being childish for not wanting to be around fighting parents.
Maybe I’m just tired of having to be the adult.
To end on a lighthearted note, here’s my second prompt:
1.) The last time I laughed really hard…
After Bio lecture had let out, I met The Pop Queen in the building and decided to catch up with her while I still had some free time. While we were sitting, this girl who neither of us knew came up to us who I shall refer to as C and started chatting to me.
What was my name?
What was my major?
What I liked to do for fun?
After she’s pretty much asked me for my life story, she asks if I would like to come to her sorority’s party on Friday night.
Now me being my lovable dense self, I don’t realize that this woman has been hitting on me the entire conversation until The Pop Queen has to muffle her laughter in her scarf in order to remain inconspicuous. Once C has left, The Pop Queen fills me in on what I failed to notice.
Later in the night, I get the following test message from The Pop Queen:
“So are you going to that party, because I would feel weird going without you since she just said I could come because you’re my bbf (black best friend) and she was pretty hot. Since you’re dating [Eva], think you could send her my way? Please and thank you.”
Cue laughter. I heart my twin.
Being stereotyped is nothing new to me. I’m a black guy standing at 5’11 and about 190 lbs, it’s something I long ago learned was going to happen. Stereotypes regarding my appearance I try and let just roll off my back, it’s difficult but it’s better than becoming bitter right? I long ago lost count of how many times I’ve had women cross the street from me in fright if I’m walking at night but that’s a whole other post in itself.
So in my 20 years of life I have never had this happen.
I was serving two guys and a girl about my age and as I asked them what they wanted to drink both burst out into laughter. I was confused.
The girl said it was good they were giving people from the area jobs near campus and freeing up for students for studying.
Hold the phone.
Pasting a shit-eating grin on my face, I explained that I was a student and this was how I paid for my bills and rent.
They looked at each other in shock and the guy had the balls to ask me to show my student ID. I flashed it and they asked if I was a student, why would I have a southern accent? The other guy said he didn’t know they allowed hicks in.
So because I grew up in the country, I’m not intelligent?
I guess that 3.8 GPA is just pity then.
Folks, I’ve worked in restaurants off and on since the summer of 2003. I would like to think I have a good idea of what I’m doing by now. That being said, I don’t necessarily need you to nitpick at every little thing in our restaurant.
When the hostess on duty tells you that it will be a few minutes for a table to be cleaned, she isn’t giving you the go ahead to sit down. If you see me clearing a table, don’t assume it’s free yet. That is rather disgusting. If you do perform the preceding action, do not ask me to please hurry up and then have the cojones to look at me like I’m holding up your day.
Then there is tipping. Tips equal a waiter/waitress’s lifeblood. I long ago learned how to smile at someone despite how annoyed they made me. I make sure you and your party always have drinks and that your food is out as soon as possible. I joke around to make your stay more enjoyable. So when I come to start cleaning off your table, I hate to see only dishes and used napkins left behind. This makes me think it is not worth it.
Speaking to the guys out there, if the female waitress repeatedly tells you to stop hitting on her and then you proceed to grab her wrist we will escort your ass out. If you try and fight me on this, I will not be gentle on doing so. Oh and don’t threaten to try and get me fired because I moved out of the way of your fist. The fact that my boss laughed in your face should prove how stupid that is.
That concludes this PSA. You may now return to your regularly scheduled programming. Thank you.
So for those who haven’t heard, early voting started today in North Carolina. Between people eager to vote for someone they believe will deal with the economic crisis or those who just wish to avoid the sardine-style lines at the polls on November 4, there was a decently sized turnout by any count.
Here I am, wearing a polo shirt, khakis, and my work shoes, just wanting to get home and into some comfortable clothes when I see these two women wearing McCain/Palin paraphernalia. T-shirts, visors, buttons, the works. Thanks to my Nana, I am (most of the time) unfailingly polite to people older than me. So when these women ask me if I would show support for McCain, I didn’t follow my first instinct and laugh in their faces.
Me: I’m sorry ma’am but I do intend to vote for Senator Obama when I actually get to the polls.
Woman #1: Sir, all we ask is that you listen.
Me: I have no problem with that Ma’am.
Woman #2: Did you know that Obama supports abortion?
Me: No Ma’am I did not know that. I thought he just supported the right to the option.
Woman #1: They are the same thing in God’s eyes. He doesn’t care about an unborn baby’s right to live.
Me: And a child born of rape or incest, or what if the mother is not physically capable of bringing the baby to term? What then?
Woman #1: That is not the child’s fault. It should not be punished.
Woman #2: Do you support abortion Sir?
Me: The idea makes me ill Ma’am but I support a woman’s right to choose. I believe, like Senator Obama, that supporting the decision in Roe v. Wade is the only way to avoid the back-alley abortions and needless deaths stemming from that.
Woman #2: I suppose you support marriage for gays as well?
Me: Fully. I believe in the line of the Declaration of Independence that says we are all entitled to the life, liberty, and the pursuit of happiness. I would proudly stand beside my friends as they say their vows and look forward to the day they won’t have to travel out of state to do so.
Woman #1: But God declared marriage should be between one man and one woman. How can any God fearing Christian support anything else?
Me: I don’t fear God Ma’am, any God I should fear seems petty and thus I will not put my faith in him.
Woman #1: Sir, you must see that Obama will run this country into the ground.
Me: Ma’am, you must see that we’ve been run into the ground for the last 8 years. It’s time for a change of pace.
Woman #1: You’re young though, what do you really understand about politics?
Me: If I were supporting Senator McCain and Governor Palin, you would not ask me that question so please do not subject me to double standards.
Woman #2: So are you voting for Obama because you’re black?
Me: No, prior to his dropping from the race I was supporting John Edwards. Are you voting for Senator McCain because he’s white?
At this point, they both got offended and walked off. Sometimes I have to marvel at how much patience I have.
It’s sad but I’m ready for this election to be over.
I’m tired of mudslinging and name-calling. I’m tired of listening to my mother say only a racist white person would vote for McCain and I’m tired of hearing the only reason a black person would vote for Obama is because of his skin colour. I’m tired of hearing Obama called a terrorist. I’m tired of hearing about Palin’s family (especially her daughter) in the news. I’m tired of all the pettiness and all the stupidity. I’m tired of often feeling ashamed of my country. I want to not care anymore. But I know myself well enough to know that isn’t going to happen.
I’m just tired.
Ralph Nader in 2012 anyone?
(Note From the Management: The opinions expressed in the Speak Out Series are those of their individual writer and not necessarily shared by myself. The only influence I have on this is showing them how to post and letting them use my password. Thank you.)
First, allow me to introduce myself. I am the Talented Miss Eva and yes, I am the one crazy (read: desperate) enough to date Kendall. Just kidding Sweetheart.
I’ll answer a few questions you may have about the picture to the left before we get started tonight. Yes, they are real. Yes, I am a natural blonde although I will admit that I added bleach to it shortly before I left for that trip. No, you may not check the carpet.
Now that my preamble is out of the way, we can get down to the meat and potatoes of this little post of mine.
“I hope people realize there is a brain beneath this hair and a heart beneath these boobs” – Dolly Parton
As you can see, genetics were quite kind to me in the bust department. Although on my more cynical days, I think they’re a case of “too much of a good thing”. Don’t believe me? Well, we will just have to see about that.
Once upon a time, there was a nine year-old girl with a dream to become a professional gymnast. She wanted the glory, the recognition, the ability to travel the world. She had practiced as much as her mother would allow since she was small. Before her eleventh birthday, she would win several regional competitions and place at the state-level. Then along came puberty. At age 13, wearing a 32B and showing no signs of stopping, she was told that she did not have the “appropriate figure” to compete. Crushed, she left competitive gymnastics for good a few months short of turning 15.
I don’t look back on that period of time fondly, even if it was over six years ago. I had never hated my body until then and probably would have delved into Anorexia had my mom not been on the lookout. Even with her making sure that I stopped before I got to that point, I still cursed my body with everything I had. Especially my breasts.
It was early in the summer of 2003 and I had gone shopping with my older sisters in Greenville, NC. We were walking out of Bath & Body Works when a sharp-dressed woman stopped us to ask if we would be interested in modeling. I didn’t stay in it in long, but I have to admit it did rebuild my confidence in my appearance. Plus, what kind of girl would I be if I had turned down getting paid to play dress-up?
Now it’s October of 2008. I’m a nursing student at Duke University, with a three (soon to be four) year-old daughter in tow. Let me repeat that, Duke University. I graduated from high school pretty damn high in the pack, not as much as say Kendall or The Bait but still impressive. Did I mention that my tuition at Duke is fully paid for because of the GPA I maintained at the community college I went to in order to save money? So, with all that in mind, will someone please tell me why I’m treated like a bimbo so often?
A recent example would be going to pick Daybreak up from the day care center last Friday. I had just gotten out of a seminar, still dressed in a business suit with power pumps and all, when I notice my gas light has popped on. I go to the Kangaroo and as I want something to drink, I go inside to pay. These two old men (I’d say they were in their early to mid-60’s) were talking about Sarah Palin. I passively listen to them as I find a diet coke and make my way to the cashier when one of the men notice that I seem to be listening and nudges his buddy.
Man: All the while, staring right at my chest “Hey Earl, that little priss is listening like she understands anything about what goes on the world. What’s the world coming to these days? Pretty girls like her just don’t know their place anymore.”
His buddy, Earl, laughs himself into a coughing fit.
It took every ounce of patience and self-restraint I possessed not to verbally castrate them. In my head, I could hear my mother telling me to be polite to my elders like a mantra. After a few moments, I calmed myself and left.
I really fucking hate stereotypes. I may love my boobs now, but dang if they’re not more trouble than they’re worth at times.
Sincerely, The Talented Miss Eva