Breaking bones and messy blood splatters everywhere.

Anyone who has read Breaking Dawn can attest to the fact that the franchise pretty much stretched itself when it split the book into two movies, taking its cue from Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows. Let’s face it, Stephenie Meyer is no J.K. Rowling—and will never be one, no matter how hard she will still try (and for everyone’s sake, I hope she no longer does).

After all, Breaking Dawn can be summed up to three distinct parts: 1) Bella and Edward’s wedding and honeymoon; 2) a gory birthing scene; and 3) a general assembly of vampires, because no action happens in the end. So in that regard, you can give credit to Bill Condon, Melissa Rosenberg, and everyone else that tried to stretch the material into two movies.

And for those who have devotedly followed the Twilight mania for the last few years, Breaking Dawn is quite a departure from the lyrical feel of the first three movies—bordering on the downright weird, even. On any other vampire movie, I can expect the blood and gore, but not Twilight—oh no, they did not go gently on the blood, even in that gory birthing scene, which reminded me of the time I sat through a C-section (my knees were buckling as I was just plastered in my seat).

Apart from the excessive mess of blood, the movie was generally a voyeuristic journey of Bella and Edward’s sex life—a testament to the fact that the novels are pretty much just Meyer’s repressed teenage fantasies coming to life. Yes, the woman gets paid millions to torture us with her fantasies, apart from completely disregarding centuries worth of vampire lore (and Bella getting pregnant with a half-vampire child takes the cake—because what, there’s leftover semen in Edward, which vampire venom has magically allowed to function as such after 100+ years?).

I can name a few things that I liked about the movie: Isle Esme and that gorgeous beach house; the fact that some parts of Breaking Dawn were an homage to the first Twilight movie; and the witticisms of Jessica and Charlie (the only bright spots in a badly written script). I’m not even liking the soundtrack like the previous movies—who the hell that the brilliant idea of getting Bruno Mars?!

Oh, and the movie was less than two hours, but it did feel like forever. I should have taken the tag line as a warning.


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