No, I don't mean any kind of lunar event. Rather, my friend A. and I will be joining the throngs of squealing vampire- and werewolf-obsessed girls at the movies this week for the premiere of Eclipse, the third in a series based on Stephanie Meyer's Twilight books for teenagers. We've been waiting for this since last November, and I think I'm safe in saying we aren't the only grown women impatiently appreciative of Twilight's lowbrow charms. The combination of bare-chested young werewolves, a fiendishly hot vampire, eternal youth, and star-crossed love is hard to resist. In fact, I've seen plenty of other women of a certain age sheepishly lining up with their daughters outside the theater for Twilight movies, and although they make a show of chaperoning, I know they aren't there for the popcorn.
Like the first two Twilight movies, Eclipse will no doubt be terrible. My friend, G.'s, recent assessment of New Moon, the second in the series:
Possibly the cheesiest art direction I have ever seen in my entire life. The swirling cameras, the locking eyes, the pained looks. It kinda ruins the books for me.
To which I intelligently responded:
DONT BE DISSIN THE TWILIGHT
There's a certain kind of awful that's actually enjoyable. I'm thinking here of tribute bands, Krystal chili-cheese fries, and any episode of The Bachelor. Pedestrian, lowbrow, and common, yes, yes, yes, but still very fun. Although I should be focusing my energies on getting through Proust's Remembrance of Things Past or learning to love symphonic music, come Thursday, I'll instead be embracing my inner fourteen year-old and queuing up for a good dose of Edward Cullen. Care to join me?