Can Maxim Survive 12 Straight Hours Of Twilight?
Five horrible movies, several hundred squealing fans, one very pissed off Maxim writer: It’s the Twilight Torture Test!
Five horrible movies, several hundred squealing fans, one very pissed off Maxim writer: It’s the Twilight Torture Test!
The good news? The Twilight books and movies are officially a part of pop culture’s shabby past, now that the last of the five films is officially in theaters. The bad news? Maxim made me endure its last stand, forcing me to watch all five movies back to back in a theater crowded with squealing, hormonal Twi-Hards. What follows is a long, agonizing crawl to the finish line in a race filled with screaming prepubescent girls, gratuitous images of Taylor Lautner’s abs and endless mugs of beer that, all things considered, did very little to easy my pain. This is my Twilight Torture Test: Please, pity me.
I head off to the theater and start praying very hard for a massive four-lane pileup for the first time in my life. In case you hadn’t guessed, I am not looking forward to this.
I arrive at the theater, grab my ticket and am ecstatic to learn that this movie theater has a fully stocked bar. I start my day with several massive glasses of Shiner Boch and a couple shots of Crown Royal neat, the breakfast of champions people with nothing left to live for.
The theater is packed to the rafters with giggly tweens and their long-suffering parents. It makes me sad when I realize this is a school day. As Whitney Houston once pointed out: “Children are our future.” Although she may have changed her mind if she’d seen this shit-storm. Eventually, the lights go down and the screen lights up.
Good Lord. A minute in and I already want to die. The kids in this high school are the whitest people I’ve ever seen and we haven’t even gotten to the vampire stuff yet.
Edward, aka Robert Pattinson, makes his first appearance in the movie and the audience swoons. The level of estrogen is rising so high that a passing uterus sticks its head in the door to tell the audience to man up.
Everyone in this movie has the same facial expression. Bella, aka Kristen Stewart, constantly looks like she’s just got back from a double root canal and is still numb from the hairline down.
Now I know these movies are completely full of shit. Edward rescues Bella from a gang of ruffians by doing a 180° spin in a four-cylinder Dodge Avenger. If this were real life, the car would have finished half a turn and stalled, giving the gang ample time to wreck the car and beat the tar out of Edward. The next scene would have featured Edward trying to explain to the rental car place how failing to save your girlfriend from a street gang is totally covered by the insurance policy, and it still would’ve been a more entertaining movie.
I laugh out loud when Edward calls Bella “my own personal heroin.” I just know if I did that to a girl, there isn’t a law enforcement agency in this nation that wouldn’t grant her a restraining order. Also: I’m now craving heroin.
I have to admit that watching Bella’s dad load the shotgun before meeting her new boyfriend was pretty fun. Mostly because a small, optimistic part of me hoped we were watching the director’s cut where Edward gets his head blown off in the first movie, and I can just go home. But, obviously, no such luck.
Edward tells Bella she is “my life now.” I would love to know if he’s still saying that after 20 years of soul crushing marriage and three lil’ vampires nipping at their heels.
The credits roll. That’s one down, four to go. My nerves are on edge. My hair is a sweaty mess, and thanks to the alcohol, I feel nauseous and I’m not even close to being hungover yet. My main problem is knowing there’s more to come, and I can’t even begin to imagine how they’ll stretch whatever plot is left over four more movies. There is already literally nothing interesting that can happen to these characters.
I head back to the theater after grabbing a snack (I need comfort food!) and can hear the sound of twisted metal crashing and exploding in the theater across the hall. It’s playing Skyfall and another part of me dies as I realize I have to watch Twilight: New Moon instead. I also realize I’m the only guy in the theater who is totally not getting laid tonight, even though he voluntarily watched all five Twilight movies. That sucks.
I’m pretty low on “man-cards” at this point and don’t want to lose another for criticizing the makeup, but these people are wearing so much white pancake that it’s starting to feel like it should be offensive to white people.
We get our first glimpse of the new Jacob, aka Taylor Lautner, and I finally get why women are obsessed with the Twilight movies. Say what you will about guys and porn, but at least we don’t pretend we watch Kayden Kross’ movies for the enthralling stories.
Bella takes her breakup from Edward harder than most prisoners of war take physical torture. Is she really just going to sit in the same chair for an entire year, staring at the same spot like she’s brain-dead? …oh good God, yes she is. In fairness, I’m starting to get an idea of exactly how she feels.
Jacob’s shirt comes off and a high-pitched “wooo!” comes from the crowd. I’d hate to be the guy who cleans the seats in this place.
The Twilight series seems to have nothing to do with actual vampires. They rarely suck blood, they can appear in sunlight without dying (instead, they sparkle. Fucking sparkle!), have a reflection in mirrors and probably are immune to crosses and wooden stakes through the heart. If the Twilight books were about zombies, the undead would be vegans that can run marathons and deliver heartfelt addresses to the U.N.
Now Bella has been dumped by a werewolf and a vampire? Who’s next on the list? Freddy Krueger? Gill-Man? Blacula?
The lights go up again and I’m through the second movie. I immediately text my sister and ask her just what the hell women enjoy about these movies. She replies simply, “Taylor Lautner.” Women, I’m just going to say this now, because you need to hear it: Stop, you’re better than this!
Twilight: Eclipse is next. It’s weird how Edward just shows up in Bella’s room without warning and she’s fine with it. No girl who likes this stuff can ever excuse me of being “too clingy” ever again.
Edward asks Bella, “Does [Jacob] have a shirt?” It’s so painful to watch Taylor Lautner try to act, because he’s not fooling anyone. He knows why he’s here: To give stay-at-home moms something to masturbate to when they’re “cleaning the bathroom.”
These characters complain way too much, especially the vampires. They have safety, shelter, and immortality – there are people right now with college degrees who have none of those things and I bet they’re not bitching as much as these fuckers.
This soundtrack features the dullest emo pop songs ever to fly out of a Hot Topic store. The soundtrack should be called “Songs For Privileged White Teens To Try And Get Their School Counselor’s Attention With.”
Edward and Bella have a sex scene and it’s so awkward and boring that I just know it’s going to appear in a dream starring the birthday clown with hot dogs for eyes and my mother (again). I would rather have seen Joe Pesci and Sharon Stone’s sex scene from Casino played on a loop instead of that five-minute horror show.
The audience learns that Edward and Bella are going to get married and a cluster of “Oh my Gods!” fill the theater, apparently forgetting they must have proposed to each other five times already just to pad out these interminable movies. So far, very little has actually happened in these films, and all joking aside, I’m at an utter loss to explain their popularity beyond shirtless Taylor Lautner. But then how does that explain the success of the books? Clearly, just the fact I’m asking these questions means I need to drink a lot more. Needless to say, by this point, I’m feeling a little edgy.
After dashing off to my car to charge my phone (and scream “FUUUUUCK” at the top of my lungs), I head back for the fourth film, Twilight: Breaking Dawn – Part 1. Lines have already started to form for Part 2, and two women who cross my path mock the fans waiting there. My heart soars and suddenly I want to pledge my undying love to these beautiful, non-Twi-Hard ladies and marry them and maybe just appear in their bedrooms at night without any warning and oh my God I’ve fucking turned into Edward arrrghhhhhhhh.
After four Goddamn movies, we finally get to see a little blood and gore thanks to one of Bella’s dreams. Hey, it’s not like it’s a vampire movie or anything, right?
I realize we didn’t get to see Edward’s bachelor party. It’s just as well – it was probably just him standing in some stripper’s bedroom, watching her sleep.
The wedding! Ugh. No one here knows how to party. I want to drag a hemophiliac into the reception and have Edward bite him while everyone chants, “Chug! Chug! Chug!”
Finally, it’s the wedding night and maybe there’s some hope for a sex scene, but nope, it’s another endless blabber-fest. This movie teaches dangerous lessons about what men want in a relationship to impressionable teenage girls, and should be banned immediately.
Bella asks Edward if vampires can go into shock. How the hell would you be able to tell? The Statue of Liberty has a greater range of facial expressions. And more attractive armpits, now that I think about it.
The audience screams at the ending, even though they’ve probably seen it a million times before. When the lights come on they make my tired eyes sore. I can’t believe I’ve still got one more of these to go, and judging from the line that’s formed outside, it’s bound to be the worst experience yet. The thought of sitting in this room with all these tweens is making me want to start yelling at people to get off my lawn. I snap a quick photo or two, but they keep coming back a blurry mess. It seems that not even my phone wants me to remember this horrible day.
The movie starts up and the finish line is finally in sight. I will admit that Kristen Stewart is a lot hotter as a vampire (wait – when did she turn into a vampire? I must’ve fallen asleep) – it’s like dating a chick with a felony on her record.
Renesmee?!? They decided to name Bella and Edward’s baby…Renesmee? I just don’t even… *head explodes*
The audience emits an “Awww” in unison at the computer-rendered baby, confirming my theory that Twilight fans are, indeed, robots.
Predictably, the most annoying thing about these movies isn’t the movies themselves, it’s the audience. They laugh at everything! Seriously, where were these girls when I was trying to get a date in high school?
Wait, now vampires can have super tasering powers? Did I stumble into the new X-Men movie? I can’t wait to see the vampire who can efficiently soak up spills on carpets. Mostly because I’ve gone numb from the waist down and am pretty certain I’ve shat myself.
Dear sweet Christ! A climax is in sight! The promised land is upon me! Freedom! No more wire hangers!
Aro, aka Michael Sheen, just uttered a high-pitched laugh that could only be achieved by a good swift kick to the testicles. Now that’s method acting! Also, deserved!
A war breaks out and as some of the participants are killed off, the audience screams with each bloodless blow like they’re watching their parents burn in a car fire. Some of the more notable kills cause the girls just a few seats away from me to shed real tears as they hold their heads in their hands. It’s honestly the first good belly laugh I’ve had all day.
There’s a meaningless twist at the end that makes the audience practically giddy with happiness and sends me flying back into a rage. I dart out of the theater before the lights have a chance to come back up and drive away as fast as my Ford Mustang is allowed to go by law (okay, it was faster. I’m sorry). Finally, the Twilight movies are done and I won’t have to endure another one of them as long as I live. Oh, and Maxim? Fuck you for making me do this. Fuck you so hard.
Danny Gallagher is a freelance writer, report, humorist and Team Jacob supporter (if the debate was “Who most likely has a learning disorder?”). He can be found on the web at www.dannygallagher.net and on Twitter at www.twitter.com/thisisdannyg.
Show me movies I actually want to sit through.
Take me to the hot girl galleries.