What a DICK

"New Moon an improvement over "Twilight" by atomictown.com

Repeating my sophomore year of high school for 12 straight years has pretty well inured me to ever feeling out of place, but once in a while I still feel like I've stumbled into the wrong theater.
Twilight isn't exactly my cup of tea. The very thought of a 17-year-old girl falling helplessly in love with a 109-year-old man fills me with a deep and enduring sense of jealousy. I mean, wrongness. Definitely wrongness.
But I watch tons of things I'm not especially interested in, like my boss complaining to me about roasting suckling pigs under my desk, or the insides of my eyelids for eight hours a night.
I think it's more that, whatever I might think of it, The Twilight Saga has evoked such excitement you can almost feel it in the theater -- and I'm not a part of that. I'm just some lone, badly-shaved guy who's constantly dropping my hands to my lap (I'm taking notes!) during the hotbodied teen vampire event that is The Twilight Saga: New Moon.
Kristen Stewart's another year older, but vampire boyfriend Robert Pattinson and his family haven't aged a day -- and the town's starting to notice. It's time for them to move along, but Pattinson can't take Stewart with him, because she's in danger every moment she spends around his blood-tempted family.
Heartbroken, Stewart finds solace in her friendship with Taylor Lautner. Lautner's interested in being more than friends, but his dark secret threatens to drive him away from Stewart completely.
Who will Stewart choose? The buff old friend who's good with his hands and just likes spending time with her? Or the brooding, sparkly, suicide-prone headcase who thinks she can't take care of herself, refuses to respect her desires, and leaves her forever because he knows what's best?
Find out all that and more in New Moon, the ongoing story of paranormal assholes and the women who love them.
As the second installment in the series, it's brisker than the slow-as-a-decaying-sloth Twilight, and features some welcome development for Stewart, who spent the whole first movie being disgracefully worthless. In the months after Pattinson leaves her, she transforms from a helpless lump of meat into a helpless lump of meat with terrible, terrible judgment whose only sense of self-worth comes from whatever man she's currently attached to.
When she's not passing out lovesick in the forest (she spends more time in the woods than Smokey the Bear), she's hopping on the motorcycles of drunken quasi-rapists or diving off eighty-foot cliffs into pounding waves. Perversely, this is all supposed to be swooningly romantic: see, Stewart gets delusional ghost-visions of Pattinson whenever she does something fatally stupid, so if repeatedly risking her life is the only way she can see that condescending prick, then repeatedly risk her life she must.
This is about as healthy as napping in an industrial sausage-grinder, but as the only love I've ever felt, ironically enough, is for my daily box of Count Chocula, I probably have no room to judge.
New Moon has other problems besides its horrifyingly insane perspective on romance. Director Chris Weitz does a decent job spinning the plates of the saga's expanding universe, but it's so jammed with worldbuilding and plot developments its two-hour runtime feels both too short and too long. New melodrama pops up with regular and jarring abruptness; its biggest scenes are frustratingly compressed, robbed of tension by the need to cover some 600 pages of adapted material.

Not only that, but its supposed love triangle also is a cheating cheater, and not in the fun way where one leg of the triangle cries while the other two get naked together. Coincidence prevents Lautner from kissing Stewart about 12,000 different times. Thank goodness her oral purity's been preserved! Now she can still wear white at her wedding.

Without facing any real threat to her love for Pattinson, just what are we supposed to be caught up in? New Moon is a holding pattern and a shell game. It's an improvement over Twilight, but after two hours spent with jerks being jerks to other jerks, I'm glad I don't have problems like these.

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"its biggest scenes are frustratingly compressed, robbed of tension by the need to cover some 600 pages of adapted material. "

Unfortunately I agree with that sarcastic fuck.