(I feel as if this entry requires an explanation and a thorough one that that. Up until recently, I have been able to maintain my rock-solid effort to remain neutral in the pop-culture craze that the world has come to know as Twilight – ignoring the barrage of posters adorning local movie theatres, obnoxious placed cardboard cut-outs in stores, and giant displays in major bookstores proved to be quite the task. However, it seems as if the so-called cultural phenomenon has come to head; after conquering the shelves of thousands of Borders and Barnes and Nobles, the vampire-love story has taken on the next great frontier: the big screen.
This attempt at mass marketing and money-making barely lead for me, and surely many others, to bat an eyelash. The list of novels turned movies is lengthy and without much relevance; the bad (most of Stephen King’s novels) outweighs the good (The Shining, Fight Club, and most of Brett Easton Ellis’ translations) with little mediocrity in between. However, a very important things happened concerning the release of Twilight, the potential Hollywood blockbuster; the release of Harry Potter and the Half Blood Prince was delayed due to the competition that would have risen had the two been in theatres at the same time.
Now, I am not one to deny the wretchedness of the majority of the Harry Potter films; you will hear no argument from me in regards to how terrible the first two films were nor will you hear me give much praise to the third. BUT I must admit to not only be a sucker for the books themselves but also for the films; despite just how dreadful I found “The Sorcerer’s Stone” and “The Chamber Of Secrets” as films, I happened to find “The Goblet Of Fire” and “The Order Of The Phoenix” to be fine motion pictures when taken out of context that they butcher the actual books. Due to this blatant attempt to hold onto my childhood – I was in the fifth grade when I read the first book in the series – I found myself wondering what all of this Twilight hubbub was about.
Of course, rather than put a considerable amount of effort into this research, I choose to the easy way – perching myself in the middle of a quaint Cedar Rapids, Iowa theatre at Fake Vampire Fest ’08, more commonly known as the opening weekend of Twilight, the major motion picture. While I am aware that I could probably have finished the entire novel in the time in took me to watch the piece of garbage that I subjected myself to, I have only two excuses in my defense: a theatre is dark and my face is hidden, whereas it takes light to read and when it’s light I can be easily recognized, and, more importantly, the actual trailer for Harry Potter and the Half Blood Prince ran between I was succumbed to a mind-numbing amount of cheesy lines, bad vampire lore, and, for fuck’s sake, the worst acting I have ever seen. These two reasons were enough for me.
Not to my surprise at all, the movie was vile and the plotline recycle – though, how much can you really get out of a teenage vampire romance that wasn’t covered in Buffy the Vampire Slayer? Initially, not a single thing explained to me why people go ape-shit over this book. Then, it dawned on me; the entire fan-base for Twilight is female and there is only one factor that can explain this (other than the misogynistic belief that women are stupid) and that factor has a name: Edward Cullen.
Women of all ages have fallen in love with Edward Cullen, the “I’m-Shiny-In-The-Sun!,” I-Have-A-Heart-Of-Gold-And-A-Stare-With-The-Intensity-Of-A-Crackhead-Eyeing-His-Next-Fix vampire. (Ironically enough, the actor who plays Edward Cullen also appears in the Harry Potter films as Cedric, tear, Diggory.) And I cannot happen but be beside myself with this idea that yet another fictional character has stolen the hearts of more girls than I, or anyone I know, will ever come in contact with in real life; this realization has come to a head in the proceeding letter to a boy who does not exist. I hereby apologize for my previous long-windedness and, even more so, for what it is come.)
Dear Edward Cullen,
You have ruined every member of the human race’s (I choose not to discriminate on the bounds of heterosexuality as I, myself, play for a very different team) chances of ever being described as the “perfect lover” (or partner, or significant other, or fuck buddy, or whatever it is they choose to call you). You, with your piercing stare (which comes off as rather unattractive when you’re sitting next to Bella in Biology class, at least when Cedric Diggory is playing you) and your old-world gentlemanly charm (which seems a bit stalker-like when you magically appear in Seattle to save the girl who didn’t tell you where she was going) – you have become this generation’s Llyod Dobler, but rather than identifying with you, I find myself weary of your façade. This is because I have nothing in common with you.
I cannot fly. I am not a vampire. I do not own a BMW or a pair of Ray-bans. My fake brothers and sisters (who have sex) are not as disgustingly pale and gorgeous as I am. I do not SHINE IN THE FUCKING SUN. With Llyod Dobler, portrayed by someone that, had he not been famous, would not have been found attractive by more than the girl next door, it was understood that at least parts of me and my peers were represented; we did make mix-tapes, we did wear t-shirts with The Clash on them, we did fall for girls who broke our hearts, and we did have a best friend with somewhat questionable sanity. However, it might not have been after Say Anything that we stood outside someone’s bedroom window with a boom-box to win back the girl but it was something that we could do – but you, Edward Cullen, I can’t do anything that you do other than make myself look like I’m dead or dying (but I can’t even do that well due to the fact that I’m not completely Caucasian).
You see, you represent everything unobtainable in a relationship for those pursuing women and everything that women want when they have no concept of reality. Which is true about every single woman on the face of the planet, leaving everyone else’s chances of landing the girl of their dreams about as close to possible as myself winning a Pulitzer for this (fake) letter – because you, sir, carry the majority of the female population within the palm of your non-exist, pale-ass hand.
Simply, Edward Cullen, fuck you. You are what is wrong with America. Not because you are a fake character in a fake book that means absolutely nothing. But because you continue to press the idea of the perfect “man” despite the fact that you are not really a man (we’ll leave out the fact that you’re not even real). However, you lead women to believe that there existed such a perfect “man” and you are reminding them of this. Except this idea of a “perfect” man never was a reality – it was made up by other women and men who choose to dream rather than to understand that there is no such thing as “perfection” let alone perfect love.
Love’s kind of ugly, Edward. But you make it hard for that to be believed.
But I suppose if someone wants to believe in vampires it makes sense for them to believe in something as preposterous as what you represent.
Which is bullshit.
Sincerely,
Sarah D.
