Stuck in twi­light zone

Sunday Tasmanian - Tassie Living - - Movies - LEIGH PAATSCH

OK, Twi­light fans. Come and get it.

Your sec­ond- last in­stal­ment in the saga is be­ing served just the way you like it: drab to the eye, bland on the palate and roomtem­per­a­ture at all times.

Non- Twi­light fans rest as­sured, the se­ries hasn’t sud­denly got good when you weren’t look­ing.

So, what is the go with Break­ing Dawn Part 1 ?

Well, like Harry Pot­ter And The Deathly Hal­lows, the Twi­light pro­duc­ers have carved the fran­chise fi­nale in two – mainly so they can dou­ble- dip into the purses of Twi­light ’ s mas­sive, pre­dom­i­nantly tweenage fan­base. No real crime in that. The ‘‘ reel’’ crime is how lit­tle is al­lowed to hap­pen in such a long run­ning time. Pro­ceed­ings get off to a promis­ing, al­most de­cep­tively pacy start.

( Girls, don’t show up late. Tay­lor Laut­ner’s hunky were­wolf Ja­cob is only se­ri­ously tak­ing his shirt off just the once. This mo­men­tous event oc­curs in­side the first minute. You have been warned.)

The open­ing act is quite rightly given over to the wed­ding ev­ery­one who ever bought a book by Stephe­nie Meyer has been wait­ing for.

The mor­tally foxy Bella ( Kris­ten Ste­wart) and the im­mor­tally vam­piric pin- up Ed­ward ( Robert Pat­tin­son) fi­nally tie the knot. This means, umm, they’re fi­nally free to kiss ( and stuff) all they want. We used to have to wait an en­tire movie for that.

Then comes a short hon­ey­moon in Brazil dur­ing which Bella falls preg­nant, like, im­me­di­ately. Then Ed­ward, wor­ried that breed­ing a blood­sucker may be too much for his hu­man bride, quickly hauls her back to the House of Cullen in the woods. And then, noth­ing. Break­ing Dawn Pt 1 dithers down into a dis­ori­ent­ing drag. Kind of like be­ing trapped in a work­ing laun­dro­mat for the night. Every­thing is go­ing around and around for no rea­son.

While Bella wastes away to a near- death state await­ing the birth, Ed­ward and Ja­cob bicker, buddy- up and bicker some more.

The cliff- hanger end­ing, when it fi­nally does lum­ber into view, is fairly out- there ma­te­rial by Twi­light stan­dards.

Ra­bid read­ers of the Twi­light books al­ready know all about Bella’s un­usu­ally prob­lem­atic de­liv­ery of her first- born.

Let me as­sure any new­bie Twi- hards, such a sight is not for the faint- hearted.

The se­ries- clos­ing Part 2 will be here this time next year. Only 300- and- some­thing sleeps to go, then.

THE Twi­light films are known for their dodgy di­a­logue, glit­ter­ing vam­pires and scream­ing fans.

The Twi­light sound­tracks, how­ever, are known for break­ing small bands and launch­ing mu­sic ca­reers into the strato­sphere.

Be­com­ing a part of this block­buster film se­ries is a shrewd ca­reer move. It al­lows mu­si­cians to open them­selves up to an en­tirely new and huge fan base.

It has worked won­ders for Griz­zly Bear, Bon Iver or Lykke Li.

Twi­light is un­doubt­edly a mag­i­cal king­maker. Take Brook­lyn- based cult rap­per Theophilus Lon­don. Noth­ing about his swag­ger sug­gests he has even seen a Twi­light movie and yet his ur­ban elec­tronic hip- hop joint Neigh­bors is re­ally the only song here that ap­proaches any level of sex­i­ness. And that is kind of odd in it­self see­ing as this is the film where Ed­ward and Bella fi­nally get it on, I mean, get mar­ried.

The first three Twi­light sound­tracks dined out on their in­die and alt- rock cred. Num­ber four loosens those uber- cool ties a lit­tle with some ex­cur­sions into pop.

The big­gest name is doo- wop crooner Bruno Mars, who sounds about as tor­mented as he can man­age on It Will Rain. He chan­nels his in­ner Ed­ward with lines like: ‘‘ Cause there’ll be no sun­light if I lose you.’’

Nicely ap­ing the melo­drama of the film is pop star Christina Perri and her swoon­ing bal­ladry. She cer­tainly looks the part for this au­di­ence but might be a dash too sickly sweet.

Iron & Wine are back with a re- boot of Flight­less Bird, Amer­i­can Mouth ( Wed­ding Ver­sion ). Not a catchy song ti­tle but it is a gor­geous love song that orig­i­nally sound­tracked Ed­die and Bella’s slow dance at the prom.

The new ver­sion is drenched in strings for a lush tone and it has a slightly up­dated pace.

Aussie folk stars An­gus and Ju­lia Stone de­liver what they al­ways do, a shuf­fling, mel­low, ten­der bal­lad; Joy For­mi­da­ble kick things up a notch with pound­ing kick­drums and fuzzy gui­tars on End­tapes; but the Noisettes steal the show with Sis­ter Rosetta, a gospel, punk and blues party that is a wel­come re­prieve from all of the weepy bal­lads.

Cu­ri­ously ab­sent are Bri­tish prog- rock act Muse, widely known as the author’s favourite band while writ­ing the orig­i­nal novel.

They have never had a Top- 30 hit sin­gle in Amer­ica. But af­ter ap­pear­ing on the first three Twi­light out­ings and en­joy­ing a mas­sive ca­reer boost, an as­so­ci­a­tion with Kate Hud­son didn’t help sell out bas­ket­ball sta­di­ums on their last US tour. It’s fair to won­der what hap­pened to sour the re­la­tion­ship.

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