In director Bill Condon (Dreamgirls, Kinsey), Twilight is in surer hands than in its previous three outings. And it shows. Pattinson gets to glower less, Stewart to smile more and Lautner to wear a shirt, even a jacket for a bit. Plus, the tremulous uncertainty with which Stewart walks to the altar is almost believable, as is her change of mind seeing the beaming Pattinson at the other end.
From then on, however, there is little that Condon can do. How to show nights of lustful passion to pre-teen Twi-hards waiting breathlessly for the same? How to live up to all that those have been promised to be given Edward’s “strength”, without actually showing anything? How to keep those same old pre-teens interested in a “miracle” pregnancy that is frightening to say the least? How to keep Bella alive given that “the baby is eating her from within”? How to have her drink blood with a straight face? How to have both mournful lover and mournful husband on two ends of the same couch, both proclaimed deadly killers, holding literally either ends of Bella? How to discuss naming the baby after both should it be a boy, in all seriousness? How to stage at least one fight for the pre-teen boyfriends coming with the girl fans? How to make pancaked vampires look concerned through half the length of this film as they gather unfailingly around Bella? How to be the centre of all this attention and not bury yourself under some covers?