So, I’m dating this 16-year old, and she insists on going to see this movie about queer vampires and slightly-less faggy werewolves. My generation is no stranger to teenage werewolves - bringing us such classic fare as Teen Wolf, starring that shaky little bastard from Family Ties. You can say whatever you want about the Eighties, but one thing is for sure – if there was ever a decade to produce a film that spoke to the transfigured party animal aficionado, it was the decade of the New Wave. Improve on the genre? Bring it on, Generation Z.
I don’t know if it was all of the barely-illegal beav in the audience or the undue influence of the Maui x Kush x Swuggets + Mad Dog combo we imbibed prior to ticket purchase, but The Fangman was completely into it... for a while, at least. After this Bella Swan, or some such shit, cuts her finger on some wrapping paper in front of a family of vampires, this dandy of a blood sucker that I’ve been seeing on all of the magazine covers tells this broad to beat it because she’s giving too many vamps too many boners. So the dandy bids her farewell. Bella gets all Girls Gone Wild on that ass and starts hanging out with this beefy twink-werewolf. He is part of a gang of other shirtless Guido Larva that reminded me of high school back in Long Island, when I first started spikin’ my butt with the juice. After ole girl starts adrenalizing to the tune of cliff diving and motor sports, the vamp-fop returns to the fold after receiving false information about his former love’s death.
Here’s where it lost me – somehow, this broad is immune to all vampires powers and she’s ordered before some council of pasty twats who decree that she must either die or become a vampire too. What the fuck? Who cares? If she’s immune to vampire powers in the first place, why keep her away from vampires? If she’s immune to vampires, wouldn’t she have a hard time becoming one too? By the hour fifteen mark, I was seriously confused by Lichen this and Volturi that and I had a serious craving for Scott Howard to dribble up to the lot of these over-dramatic goons and slam dunk on all their asses. I’m not one to split hairs, but Christ on a cracker, at least Teen Wolf made some sense.
By the end of the movie, I was so busy texting to all the new digits that I scored while I was in line for the crapper that I completely lost interest. So, I went again two days later with this babysitter chick named Briana and liked it even less. Perhaps I’ll like it a bit more tomorrow when I bring this drama club geek, Antigone. Say what you like about fruity teen flicks, one thing is for sure – my calendar’s booked. 2 Camaros.
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