Story by Bailey Meyers
Photo courtesy of Breaking Dawn
There’s a moment in Breaking Dawn: Part 1, during the much-hyped sex scene, in which Edward (Robert Pattinson), in the throes of passion, grabs onto the headboard of the bed he and Bella (Kristen Stewart) are, as the kids say, Doing It, in, and breaks off a chunk. In response to this, the entire bed collapses around the pair. Maybe due to shoddy Swedish craftsmanship (IKEA furniture is tough even for vampires), or maybe because nobody ever thought about the fact that one chunk of bed from the headboard would not cause the destruction of the entire frame. To me, this one scene is wholly representative of the film itself. Allow me to explain.
The thing you need to understand about Breaking Dawn is that it’s an atrociously, unforgivably bad film. It’s truly the worst of the series, which is an impressive accomplishment. There is hardly anything good about this film. First of all, and perhaps most egregiously, it’s boring. It lags at odd moments, speeds up unexpectedly (but only in a brief burst at the end), and seems to drag on forever.
And then, of course, there are the “actors.” Taylor Lautner, as perennial third wheel Jacob, is like a black hole of charisma. Seriously, a box with a six-pack drawn on it would have done a more serviceable job. Stewart looks like she wants to vomit in pretty much every scene she’s in (even the ones where she’s supposed to be supremely happy). Pattinson has admitted in interview that he hates Edward Cullen, but is evidently not a good enough actor to hide this loathing. The supporting cast is similarly bad, with the exception of poor Anna Kendrick, who was, I assume, contractually obligated to give at least a couple minutes of screen time.
But really, even the best actors would have a hard time with the stilted, unconvincing dialogue that screenwriter Melissa Rosenberg saddled them with. And the film can’t seem to decide what genre it is. Roughly two-thirds of the way through, it was suddenly more reminiscent of a Japanese horror film than a romantic fantasy for adolescent girls. My theory is that the otherwise very talented director, Bill Condon (Kinsey, Dreamgirls), became overwhelmingly frustrated with the film’s biggest weakness: its source material. And that’s when, I assume, he lost his mind.
Condon has shown that he is a good director in the past, and really does do as much as he can with Breaking Dawn. It’s drivel, but it’s beautifully shot drivel. Sometimes, you can ignore the monotonous droning of Bella and Edward and focus on the scenery, the beautiful buildings and beaches and colors. But beautiful buildings and beaches and colors do not a movie make.
This brings me back to the broken bed.
Condon is extremely limited by the work his film is based on. The Twilight series is probably some of the worst published writing in modern literature. The characters are flat and dull, the pacing is nonexistent, and the plot makes no logical sense. And yet, Condon is expected to make a movie out of this nonsense—to pound and pound on this rock until water springs forth from it. But the movie is supported by nothing more than shoddy craftsmanship, missing screws, weak legs. Who could have possibly expected it to be anything more than an enormous mess?
 

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