Twilight: New Moon

Just saw Twilight: New Dawn last night–not, of course, without suitable protection against the expanding suckiness. It doesn't say much for a film series when the only reason you have for watching it is that there's a new Rifftrax.

Extremely funny and a spot-on nailing of this piece of dreck, but why did they have to make a film that validates Bill Corbett going shirtless?

The horror.

If you haven't seen New Moon yet, for heaven's sake don't do so without a thick coating of sarcasm or three-inch lead plates. I didn't think it was possible to make a worse film than Twilight, but Summit Entertainment seem determined to prove me wrong. There's no point summarising the plot or criticising its miserable dramatic arc because you'll be comatose before you get that far. It's far more interesting to ask why the actors playing the Red Indian werewolves had to produce papers proving that they were Indians, but none proving that they were werewolves. Seems a bit lax to me.

Dialogue? It should be grounds for prosecution with gems like:

The absence of him is everywhere I look.

There's worse, but I don't want to be responsible for any convulsions. Then, of course there's the bad acting, cheap CGI, amateurish make up, a director who has a weakness for camera gags right out of a cartoon, and the most unlikeable main character since Dean Martin stopped doing Matt Helm films. It was also reportedly edited in the backseat of a car and looks it.

In other words, pure rat kibble that makes Bert I Gordon look like Otto Preminger. If you do want to risk seeing it, I highly recommend getting the number of a survivor's support group first.