News

• Twilight
• Directed by Catherine Hardwicke
• Written by Melissa Rosenberg
• Starring Kristen Stewart and Robert Pattinson
• Classification: PG
• 

Twilight is your basic boy meets girl story, at least if the basic boy happens to be a vampire and the girl is hot to take a walk on the wild side. Well, you can imagine the complications. If not, you could always join the millions of teens who have read Stephenie Meyer's book or, judging from the Web buzz, the millions more likely to check out Catherine Hardwicke's adaptation. Those clicking on the latter option will learn that star-fanged romance is a tricky affair indeed, and, needless to say, consummation is devoutly not to be wished. What's left is sometimes sensitive and often silly but really, essentially, beneath his pallor and her panting and their intertwined frustrations, it's just two long hours of coitus interruptus.

In fairness, there's a good movie buried somewhere in these frames but, like the undead at sunrise, it can't seem to get out. And Hardwicke, who proved in Thirteen that she knows a thing or two about adolescent rage, could well have been the right woman for the job. Not so, but, given the subject matter, her miscues are intriguing if only because they err on the side of sedate restraint and, in this age of cinematic bombast, how may directors underplay their hand?

Certainly, there are plenty of potential trump cards, starting with the obvious sexual metaphor that has always been embedded in the vampire myth, and which, in this case, receives a comely teenage twist. First, the girl. The daughter of amicably divorced parents, Bella (Kristen Stewart) leaves the sun of Arizona for the gloom of Washington State and a stint living with her dad the local cop, a man of few words but fine intentions. Her first day at high school neatly reverses the usual clichés — the kids warmly embrace this cool brunette and her quiet confidence. Every kid, that is, except the standoffish Cullen clan, a quintet of adopted siblings who are all (1) devilishly attractive, (2) dapper dressers and (3) a whiter shade of Warhol.

Now, the boy. That would be Edward (Robert Pattinson), the hunkiest of the Cullens, who, with his pallid mug plus a modified ducktail along with those ruby-red lips, looks to be cross-channelling James Dean and Edward Scissorhands. (Un)naturally enough, our girl falls hard. When their eyes meet across a crowded biology class, Hardwicke lets us eavesdrop on the nervous chatter while keeping her camera close, penetratingly close, to their infatuated faces. And the combination works: The intensity is palpable, the sparks fly, and both young actors seem willing and able to generate some major chemistry.

So, excited ourselves at this point, we wait for the heat. And wait. And wait. Sorry, but all that's quick to come, thanks to an informative consult on Google, is Bella's realization of Edward's pedigree. Yep, he's a vampire, yet — much to her growing chagrin — an awfully sensitive and downright respectable vampire. Seems the Cullens are an evolved variety, the Yuppies of the undead, self-described "vegetarians" determined to slake their thirst only with the blood of lower animals, and thus, at their most disciplined, no more dangerous than your average deer-hunter.

Admittedly, for Bella, such relative sophistication does have its upside. For example, Edward and his kin no longer suffer from an ugly overbite. What's more, when invited to meet the folks in a guess-who's-coming-to-dinner sequence, she's delighted to discover that, nestled among the redwoods, their ultramodern home is a glass-and-steel aerie that might have been designed by Frank Lloyd Wright. Apparently, gentrified bloodsuckers know from architecture.

Alas, on the downside, it turns out a vampire (not to mention a vampire flick) can be too sensitive. Fearful of "losing control," of drinking overdeeply from Bella's precious nectar, nice-guy Eddie refuses to go all the way. Heck, nice-guy Eddie barely makes it to first base. Not for lack of encouragement. "I've killed people," he warns. "I don't care," she counters. "I don't have the strength to stay away from you," moans he. "Then don't," whispers she. And on and on, but to no avail. When a gal hungers for a bloody cad, a nice lad just doesn't cut it.

In lieu of getting down and dirty, the two go up and away, flying off on his vampire wings to the tops of majestic trees where, like oldsters on a scenic cruise, they pause to admire the green valley below. Now flying sure ain't sex, but in the care of a more kinetically gifted director than Hardwicke, it should at least be magic. Instead, these scenes also plod, as does the climax, when the plot subjects our damsel to the toothy attentions of an old-school vampire. Yet the movie lacks a taste even for this kind of action. In fact, after Eddie soars yet again to her rescue, poor Bella seems torn between relief and disappointment.

So, just another boy meets girl story, where boy and girl fall madly in love and … live platonically ever after a life of sober restraint. Vampirically speaking, it's one thing (and a very good thing) to reverse the flow of the sexual metaphor; but it's quite another to close the valve and pretend that passion can be bloodless. When hormones that should rage only stand and wait, Twilight is no light.