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That's possible because the original Twilight is a hot mess. Director Catherine Hardwicke, who does not return for this sequel, adapted Stephenie Meyer's angsty bestseller into a humdrum teen romance that was as dreary as the Pacific Northwest setting, as colorless as the pale-skinned Cullen clan, and as stiff as a corpse. New Moon, in comparison, is worlds better. But that doesn't mean it's good.
A lengthy plot summary for the series seems unnecessary. Anyone reading this likely knows that socially awkward Bella Swan (Kristen Stewart) adores bed-headed, pouty-lipped vampire Edward Cullen (Robert Pattinson). In New Moon, the second of four planned film adaptations, Edward flees the rural town of Forks believing he's no longer capable of protecting his muse. Lost without her lover, Bella takes up destructive hobbies in hopes that Edward will return to protect her. One of those side projects catapults her into the arms of young Jacob Black (Taylor Lautner), who happens to be a werewolf. The Van Helsing love triangle is complete.
With Chris Weitz (About a Boy, The Golden Compass) behind the lens, New Moon improves on Hardwicke's dreadful effort on almost every level. Digital effects aren't laughably bad. Weitz and his crew must conjure a pack of werewolves, and while the beasts are disproportionately larger than human characters, they're not clumsy concoctions like Hardwicke's sprinting vampires or her pathetic baseball sequence. Weitz coaxes better performances out of his cast, as well. The painfully dull Stewart only possesses two reaction shots, but she uses them both to decent effect. Pattinson appears more comfortable in Edward's skin, though his chemistry with Stewart remains nonexistent. But Lautner, whose role increases in this sequel, displays excellent screen presence. He's the only one who almost makes Meyer's cornball dialogue believable.
And there's the problem. Even with a decent director at the helm, The Twilight Saga always will be hampered by Meyer's juvenile prose. She pens lovesick poems to hormonal teenagers (girls, in particular). Screenwriter Melissa Rosenberg dutifully attempts to distill the maudlin dreck into a serviceable drama, but New Moon sounds like someone taped together five Hallmark cards, three diary pages, and a letter to the Teen Beat editors, then asked handsome young actors to read the catastrophe aloud. New Moon may reference Shakespeare's tragic Romeo & Juliet, and even pattern its twisty conclusion after the Bard, but thanks to Meyer, it will never be more than a cheap Harlequin romance novel.
