Back in Forks in The Twilight Saga: Eclipse, Bella and Edward repose in a meadow of soft-focus violets, in which Edward, his ivory skin bejeweled under the sun’s rays, asks Bella once again to be his bride. Bella stares at her lap and twists up her wide mouth on her long jaw and refuses to give him a firm yes or no until he promises to turn her into a vampire. Edward waffles. Better to wait a few weeks, he says, until after their high-school graduation. Restive, the virgin Bella wants to make love with Edward before he kills and resurrects her — so she’ll know what it’s like “while I’m still me.” But Edward is old-fashioned, having come of age a century earlier when “things were less … complicated.” Therefore, he says, they must wait until they’re married before they have sex and he kills her. As you can imagine, his pure-mindedness puts a strain on the relationship, and, also, there’s a werewolf at the door: Jacob the Human Muscle Chart, a hot-blooded Native American with no patience for tortured paleface bloodsucker Mormon-esque sexual circumlocutions. He wants Bella to choose him instead of Edward — or, as he puts it, “I want you to choose me instead of him.” Imprudently, he tries to steal a kiss, but she whomps him and sprains her hand. Jacob is chastened. Though bestial, he’s still a gentleman.
I mean, other than the millions of teenage girls and their mothers who have devoured the Twilight series like so much brain candy.
Are you going to see it? Or did you go see it at midnight last night?