(Caveat: Yes, this is another Twilight post, and no, I'm not going to bust out the action figures.)
(Should you have already tired of my obsession, you might want to stop reading here.)
(Also, I've gotten a lot of shit from people about digging the series, but come on! Worldwide, Stephenie Meyer has sold EIGHTY-FIVE MILLION BOOKS. As an author, how do I not get behind that enterprise?)
I'm finally finished with my edits, so I celebrated by seeing a New Moon matinee. I'm fairly pressed for time the rest of the week, so I was delighted to have the opportunity to go yesterday. Otherwise, I'd have had to wait until next week, which is fine, although there's something vaguely exciting about catching a movie at the beginning of its run.
I got to the theater early and had plenty of time to collect my trashcan of popcorn and bucket of Cherry Coke before choosing a good seat. (I never finish more than a third of either, yet having ample qualities of both is key.)
As I settled into my chair, I began looking around at the rest of the crowd. Normally weekday matinee audiences encompass all ages and sexes - there are the retirees who stop in to see a show after hitting the bookstore, college students killing time between classes, high school kids skipping class, Bally's members who just worked out so hard they're too rubber-legged to make it to the parking garage, the unemployed, and the underemployed.
But yesterday I noticed the only people in the theater were women in their thirties and forties.
"Wow," I thought. "Welcome to Cougar Town."
(I interrupt this New Moon post to say I just received seven pies via FedEx. SEVEN PIES. My friend works for FoodsAcrossAmerica.com and she's coming for Thanksgiving, so she said she'd take care of dessert... apparently for the rest of our lives. She wasn't sure what everyone would like, so she sent one of everything. Which is SEVEN. Seven pies should go fairly nicely with the THIRTY-SIX pounds of wine I'm having delivered tomorrow. Turkey? Screw turkey, there's no room in the fridge for a bird. Pie and wine for dinner it is!)
(Would not be the first time.)
Ahem, ANYWAY, the second the movie started, the theater went quiet. No, scratch that - dead silent. I've never been in such a crowded place with so little noise. People weren't even shifting around in their seats. No one was pulling out cell phones to text message, nor was anyone whispering amongst themselves. I'm talking utter, rapt, undivided attention.
Which made it all the more obvious when the entire audience gasped as Taylor Lautner removed his shirt.
Which then made the entire audience laugh in embarrassment, and suddenly every Cougar for Cullen in that room started doing the kind of math that does not lead to any answer other than shame and possible jail time. The great irony is when Robert Pattinson went shirtless later in the film, the audience didn't let out a peep. You, with the pasty English belly - out of the way for the werewolf!
I'm not writing this as a review, because despite how much I enjoyed the film, parts of it were just silly. I mean, the CGI werewolves were supposed to be terrifying, not hilarious. And regardless of accuracy, Jacob removing his shirt to staunch Bella's blood is only going to spur on gratuitous head wounds every time this poor kid walks in a room.
I guess my point is if I were Pattinson, I'd be on the phone with my agent, like NOW, demanding that I have more face time in the next movie because the kid completely stole the show. What's funny is Taylor Lautner's chemistry with Kristen Stewart was so much more palpable than hers with Pattinson, and they were actually dating at the time.
I'm going to put the prediction out there that if Lautner continues to choose roles as well as he has, he's going to end up the biggest star of this whole enterprise.
He's got that kind of charisma.
And pecs.
I wonder how he feels about pie and wine?
(P.S. Team Jacob!)
(P.P.S. Team Age of Consent?)
(P.P.P.S. Team Shame.)
