I recently went to see Eclipse, the latest film in the Twilight Saga. Having absolutely adored the book and then wound myself into a frenzy over the trailer, I anticipated a great success. Admittedly, the previous two hadn’t been great once I looked closer at them, but Eclipse was supposed to the best yet: it’s the most action packed; two extremely good looking characters (in the book) battling over the girl they both love and Bella’s heart-wrenching decision at the end. What could go wrong? Needless to say, it was crap.
Now, I am well aware that the entire female population of Britain, America and in fact the rest of the world will probably want to hunt me down, tear me apart and burn the pieces after hearing what I have to say. But to me, Robert Pattinson and his troupe of talentless wannabes are as low down in my book as Justin Bieber, Jedward and that demented woman who put the cat in the bin. C’mon Hollywood. Is it really that hard to cast people that can actually act? Robert Pattinson is supposedly a God, and yet I find myself repulsed by the simple thought of his face, my lip curling at the sound of his hybrid accent in my head. It’s not difficult to cast an American in an American role, and even if they couldn’t achieve that, at least an Englishman who can put on a decent American accent. Where were Paul Wesley and Ian Somerhalder (aka Stefan Salvatore and Damon Salvatore from the ITV2 series Vampire Diaries) when Twilight was being cast? Added to this catastrophe, they enrol Kristen Stewart as Bella: a flimsy excuse for an actor, who wouldn’t ever have one boy fighting for her, let alone two. Finally, you have Taylor Lautner - possibly the only peak in this vacuous boredom - with his enticing six-pack which, unfortunately, acts better than he does. The gorgeous Indian-American seems to have an interesting disability, limiting him to only one facial expression throughout the film.
So come on Hollywood. What’s going on? You’ve managed to turn a series of incredible books into a mess of bad acting and people constantly checking the time to see how much longer they have to sit and watch this contraption for. As it is, I now utterly detest the books: my vision of Edward Cullen is destroyed; Bella is no longer my strong feminist heroine and the word ‘vampire’ simply sets my teeth on edge rather than having the pulse racing, wide-eyed, dizzy effect it once did.
And yet somehow, I am alone in a craze of hormone ruled, overly obsessive, stalker mad fans. My traditionalist ideas are being trampled beneath the heavy feet of pathetic, moronic and narcissistic teenage girls, whilst we are watched by laughing producers who have just got the phone call to confirm that yes; they are now the equivalent to Bill Gates in the merchandise industry. Meanwhile, up and down the country, girls – in fact fully grown women who should know better enough to act their age – are flowing into shops to seize fistfuls of Volturi Make-up, Edward Cullen wristbands and T-Shirts emblazoned with TEAM EDWARD or TEAM JACOB and shoving them into the faces of shocked shop assistants. Well Ms. Meyer, I hope you are happy. Thousands may love the films for the moment – and trust me, that will fade by the time another equally trashy film makes the silver screen – but millions more hate the books for what they have become. A love and respect that could’ve lasted for centuries has been destroyed in an attempt to make a quick buck.
Surprisingly, the movie industry has not always been this corrupt. Only recently have film makers become more intent on making money that creating a most welcome adventure. Indeed, there used to be a time where one could read a book, then see an adaptation of it in the cinema and would immediately be transported back to that world. The book would not be disgraced, defiled ad destroyed by the film, but rather given a new lease of life by it. Lord of the Rings was phenomenal; it was exactly like the book and proved that magical imagination could be transcribed onto to screen with ease. The first few Harry Potter films were the same. But then they too turned their backs on the books in order to create elaborate and completely pointless story lines; JK Rowling is lucky that the fan base dedicated to her books is loyal enough to stick by them. Admittedly, Ms. Rowling was too in the early years, and yet the books have finally been deserted in favour of a large, flowing income. As much as I love the Harry Potter series, they missed out far too much of the important information in the most recent two in order to make them good.
Not all authors have betrayed their creations to the tune of twelve silver coins though. Meg Cabot’s Princess Diaries’ have been made into two highly inaccurate, erroneous and obvious movies. However, Ms. Cabot cheerfully takes them to pieces through her character Mia Thermopolis, making for a welcome change.
I cannot amend what has already been made, no matter how much I may detest the inventions, yet I can at least hope to alter what may come. Hollywood needs to find a way to make better adaptations or else stop altogether before a fully fledged riot breaks out.