It’s that time of year again. The trees have turned the burnt orange of Bella Swan’s pickup truck, the evenings seem to be tinted blue and everything I do seems to be scored to the first “oah oah oah oah oahhh”s of Blue Foundation’s ‘Eyes on Fire’. It is officially Twilight season.
Twilight has long held the status of a guilty pleasure film; whether the subject of mockery is the scattered non sequiturs in the dialogue or the sheer volume of Robert Pattinson’s quiff, derision for the film and its sequels runs deep. The contemptuous response to Twilight, however, was nothing compared to the supportive fan response. Anyone who hasn’t been living under a rock – or in a secluded town like Forks – has heard of it, either the book or the film, and the fandom of ‘Twihards’ is one to be reckoned with. A film that prompted such strong opinions, both negative and positive, can’t just be dismissed as a guilty pleasure, and in fact, I’d argue that Twilight’s direction, cinematography and soundtrack are just a few of the reasons why it should come off of your guilty pleasure list, and be promoted to one of your favourites on Letterboxd.
Catherine Hardwicke’s direction should be one of the most obvious reasons to rid yourself of any guilt while watching Twilight. The atmospheric blue filter which she casts over the film serves many purposes: like a vampire, the filter drains the blood and warmth from the screen, making everyone’s skin seem even more ‘pale white and ice cold’, to quote Miss Swan herself. This means that when we do see a flash of blood, or a colour-changing iris, for example, it stands out all the more. This blue-green filter lets us look at the world through the eyes of a vampire, as the visual emphasis is put on the rare warm colours; we as viewers are visually attracted to them, like they are our ‘own personal brand of heroin’. The warm colours that are included become signifiers: whether it be the earthy tones of the interiors of Charlie Swan’s house, Jessica’s pink costumes, or the red of that one ketchup bottle, these warm colours begin to represent the grounded, pre-vampire-romance life that Bella could have had. Or perhaps the blue lens through which we see the world of Forks, Washington is representative of how first love in its strange, enchanting quality can cast the world in a whole new light. However you interpret it, Hardwicke’s choices here speak of her incisive cinematography, and if that isn’t enough to get you proudly streaming the film, Alexandra Patsavas’ curation of the Twilight soundtrack will be.
The music used in the film has a real identity, expressing all the rebellion and romance central to the narrative. The decision to feature contrasting musical genres in the soundtrack serves one of the biggest thematic concerns of the story: the fine line between pain and pleasure. Much like Edward in the final scene, the soundtrack begins by threatening to bite with angsty rock anthems like Linkin Park’s ‘Leave Out All The Rest’, before kissing us sweetly on the neck with the gentle folk of Iron and Wine’s ‘Flightless Bird, American Mouth’. Many of the artists featured feel so representative of the time period of the film’s release; Paramore, who have three songs on the soundtrack, burst onto the scene in 2005 and had reached serious acclaim by Twilight’s 2008 release, and Muse’s most successful single in the UK, ‘Supermassive Black Hole’, which is often recognised as the music scoring Twilight’s iconic baseball scene, had been released in 2006. Watching the film all these years later, the soundtrack adds to a nostalgia for the late noughties. Even the temporality of the songs serves the narrative; the soundtrack reminds us of the intense love affair that the youthful 2010s had with alternative rock.
So what is up with the contempt for Twilight? There is plenty of justified criticism of the film, but the wide-ranging problem with it seems to be that it portrays the angst and desire of teenage romance from the perspective of a female protagonist. Yes, the relationship portrayed sets a scary standard for romance: Bella literally sacrifices body and soul for a codependent, uncommunicative relationship which separates her from her family and actually ends up hospitalising her. But isn’t it important that we watch films that open up conversations about what an unhealthy relationship looks like? The assumption that people watch Twilight and take it at face value feels like an underestimation of the audience’s critical thinking skills. Of course, I’m not suggesting that Twilight is a trailblazing feminist narrative – Kristen Stewart plays a challenging role in portraying an often two-dimensional main character whose dialogue is limited at best and completely nonsensical at worst. However, the film adaptation of the story is beautifully crafted by women, and largely for women. Catherine Hardwicke’s unconventional path to filmmaking is particularly inspiring, and alongside the aforementioned Alexandra Patsavas as music supervisor and Melissa Rosenberg adapting the novel for the film, lots of women were at the creative helm. The fanbase that emerged from it was decidedly feminine, and unashamed in celebrating their joy for the film; at one point in time, asking whether you were Team Edward or Team Jacob was a question just as reasonable as asking someone’s name. I suspect a great deal of the criticism levelled at Twilight which might have asserted it as a guilty pleasure was actually due to the film serving the interests of feminine desire, and being embraced and enjoyed by so many women.
If none of this has convinced you of the filmic merits of Twilight, then perhaps one thing that we can agree on is its cultural significance. The film adaptation further popularised an already bestselling book, contributing to a huge demand in 2010s pop culture for supernatural romance – think The Vampire Diaries (2010), or Warm Bodies (2013). The appetite for the star-crossed romance story became a bloodlust with the success of the supernatural romances, prompting the arrival of a spate of dystopian romance adaptations like The Hunger Games (2012) and Divergent (2014). And Twilight’s cultural impact lives on; in fact, I’m anticipating a Twilight revival. Ballet pumps are back in, people are wearing long sleeve tops under t-shirts; it is only a matter of time before you unironically pull out your Team Edward keep cup. And even if the 2010s were only vampirically lingering by the door before, Olivia Rodrigo has invited them into the house with her 2023 release ‘vampire’.
As the November mist creeps in, and you find yourself greeting winter with a ‘where the hell have you been, loca?’, maybe consider a rewatch of everyone’s favourite supernatural romance. You might even find a community in it: The Lighthouse Cinema in Smithfield runs a Twilight marathon, and a Cinema Book Club where you can read the book, watch the film and discuss the adaptation afterwards. And hey, even if I haven’t convinced you of the importance of Twilight, I’m doing away with the whole guilty pleasure concept. If entertainment isn’t enough reason to proudly enjoy something then I don’t know what is.
