The first wave of Twilight obsession hit when I was fourteen. And, predictably, I vowed to reject it entirely.
It wasn’t about the films themselves – I hadn’t seen a second of footage. It was about what I *thought* they were: poorly acted, saccharine, and fundamentally “girly.” Received wisdom dictated that sparkling vampires were ridiculous, and interests deemed feminine weren’t worth considering. I dismissed it all, proudly proclaiming my ignorance whenever the topic arose.
Now, at thirty-one, I’ve already booked tickets for the saga’s return to cinemas this autumn, marking twenty years since the first novel. A strange shift, to say the least. It feels like a chance to correct a youthful misjudgment, and I suspect I’m not alone – especially among men who came of age during the vampire craze.
When the first film premiered in 2008, it became a cultural touchstone for nearly every teenage girl I knew. The story revolved around Bella, a seventeen-year-old caught in a perilous love triangle with the mysterious Edward – a century-old vampire – and her childhood friend, the werewolf Jacob. The fandom was intense, bordering on fervent.
I had a girlfriend at the time, and she was completely captivated. I begrudgingly accompanied her to see *New Moon* in 2009, finding myself one of only two boys in a sea of eighty to a hundred girls.
I likely complained throughout the entire film, oblivious to the joy I was diminishing for her.
There was a scene where Bella crashed a motorbike. Jacob instantly reacted, racing to her side, ripping off his shirt to reveal an impressively sculpted physique, and gently tending to her wound. The entire cinema erupted in gasps and delighted screams as their eyes met.
In that moment, I realized Jacob possessed everything I lacked. Not just physical strength, but protectiveness, selflessness, and an alluring mystique. He made someone feel safe. I wasn’t even a werewolf. I was simply an insecure, awkward boy.
That insecurity fueled my dismissal. I couldn’t acknowledge the bravery of Edward’s prolonged absence to protect Bella, or the story’s clever deconstruction of the #TeamEdward versus #TeamJacob debate by centering Bella’s experience. It felt impossible, even to myself.
After the cinema, when asked my opinion, I simply shrugged and mumbled a dismissive “meh.” The relationship didn’t last much longer, and I actively avoided the subsequent films, terrified of actually enjoying them.
As I grew older, I began to question the origins of my instinctive aversion to “girly” pop culture. It became clear that my rejection of Twilight stemmed from envy. The films evoked feelings in girls – safety, excitement, comfort – that I couldn’t access.
The anger and envy eventually faded. I even started rolling my eyes at the “Twilight is a better love story” memes. But I hadn’t revisited the series until Covid lockdowns and social media FOMO led me to order the Blu-ray boxset.
I expected a lighthearted, nostalgic experience. I anticipated enjoying *New Moon* at least, but still braced myself to scoff at the tastes of teenage millennials. A simple trip down memory lane.
What I found was something far more compelling. It’s a classic teen crisis movie, a 21st-century soap opera brimming with unrequited love, burgeoning desires, agonizing celibacy, and life-or-death stakes. It’s a story about the overwhelming intensity of love at the cusp of adulthood.
The special effects are dated, and there’s a hint of chastity propaganda, but the core difference between *Twilight* and films like *Bram Stoker’s Dracula* or *The Lost Boys* is subtle: the characters in *Twilight* spend more time on their phones (or in ripped jorts).
Even now, films geared towards teenage girls are often pressured to broaden their appeal and adopt a darker tone to be considered “valuable.”
It’s as if filmmakers feel they must forget what it *feels* like to be seventeen for their work to be taken seriously, or even considered for awards.
I’m still waiting for *Twilight* to receive the critical reappraisal afforded to the *Star Wars* prequels or Jennifer’s Body – another gothic-flavored teen horror from the same era. The saga deserves to be celebrated for what it is: a romantic, supernatural melodrama that offers impressive escapism and fantasy, with only minor flaws. There was no harm in it then, and there is no harm in it now.
Perhaps this anniversary re-release will change more minds.
