Twilight Vapidity

It was Sunday night, I was in my fab room at the Latchis, lacking even the weensiest shred of energy to go out. There was a TV. I rarely watch the tube when at home. Why? Eh, Buffy and Angel are off the air and nothing else holds my hummingbird attention span interest. Also too — no cable.

Here’s the challenge though — Jen and I have never been able to figure out how to activate the closed caption thingie on hotel TV sets. What hope did I have if Jen, who’s FAR more TV remote savvy than I, can’t sort it out?

But lo, I stumbled into closed caption heaven. How? Beats the fuck outta me but I did it. Now to find something awesome to watch! Aren’t there movies and great TV shows playing, like, all the damn time on cable?

What I found was this: 9,012 (more or less) home shopping networks, sports stations, financial and other news shows and commercials. And then more commercials. Oof!

And then I landed on one of those Twilight movies. I tried reading one of the books. Yes, I know they’re for tween girls but, ya know, some YA novels are pretty damned good. Think The Absolutely True Diary of a Part-Time Indian and The Onion Girl to name just two.

Was I drawn into Bella’s world? Did her new-girl-in-a-strange-town struggles resonate? Ah...no and that’s not due to the otherworldly vampire/werewolf stuff either.

No, it was because Bella struck me as an uninteresting, unformed, weak sister. In fiction, in fairy tales, I want my heroines to be strong, resilient and, please, they should have personalities. Think Faith from Buffy. Flawed but always evolving.

I thought ‘Hey, maybe the on screen Bella will have more of a presence, some oomph to her being.’ Nope, nope and fuck nope! The actress playing her, Kristen Stewart, had a single facial expression with slight variations. That look? The cast of her face? Painful, extended constipation. I wanted to give the poor dear some dried apricots and steamed broccoli.

The boys in the show? They all had the pouty underwear model look down solid. Washboard abs? Check. Pathetically undeveloped pug noses? Check. Glowers and moues? Done.

I’ve never seen such a talentless, ready-for-my-Vanity-Fair-cover-story cast before. Possibly they were all dosed with Seconal before stepping on stage.

Vapidly awful they were — the whole lot of them.

I’d been hoping for something Buffy-esque. Humor, struggles, women who kick ass and triumph.

Noperini.

I turned the channel — I love Lucy was on. OK then!

Bidisha at The Guardian has a fab-ola piece up — Twilight's feminist backlash That a woman created Bella's man-worshipping, abuse-excusing pathology is baffling – luckily strong heroines abound elsewhere  

And Bella, how goes it with her? Do you know, I can't remember. Who is she? Nobody. What does she do? Nothing. Where is she without men? Nowhere. Want to know what Bella's secret power is? It's the power of negation. She's such a deadzone of psychic antimatter that supernatural mojo doesn't work on her. Other characters' magical skills simply dissolve when they encounter the sullen ringfence of her anticharisma.

Read the the whole column (not long) especially if you’re raising kiddles (versus cats. Like me). Bidisha lists a bunch of strong, wonderfully written alternatives to the deeply soggy Twilight.