The Cringe Is REAL
Where do I even start?
The expressions. Oh god, the expressions. Bella's perpetual look of constipated confusion. Edward's face that constantly says, "I'm either deeply in love or about to vomit, possibly both." Kristen Stewart is doing that lip-biting thing in EVERY. SINGLE. SCENE.
I remembered these movies being awkward. I did not remember them being THIS awkward.
Every conversation feels like two people who've never spoken to another human before attempting small talk. The pauses. The stares. The heavy breathing. It's not romantic tension - it's like watching aliens try to simulate human interaction.
The Relationship That Aged Like Milk
Here's the thing that really got me: the Edward and Bella relationship.
In 2008, we thought this was peak romance. Brooding vampire who watches you sleep? Swoon! A guy who won't leave you alone and follows you everywhere? So devoted!
In 2025? It's a masterclass in red flags.
Edward breaks into her room to watch her sleep. He disables her car so she can't see her friend. He's 104 years old, pursuing a high school junior. The power dynamics are, well, let's call them "problematic."
And Bella? Her entire personality is "I love Edward." That's it. That's the character. She has no hobbies, no real friends, no interests beyond this century-old vampire who treats her like a fragile object he owns.
I'm not saying everyone who loved Twilight should be ashamed. These movies captured a moment. But that moment has PASSED.
It's So Very 2000s
The fashion. The blue filter on everything. The indie rock soundtrack is trying so hard to be moody. The flip phones. The absolute conviction that baseball could be dramatic if you just added thunder.
Watching Twilight in 2025 is like going to a Backstreet Boys concert. It was perfect for its time. It meant something to the people who were there. But it's not meant for new audiences. It doesn't translate. The context is gone.
You can't just dust these movies off, slap them back in theaters, and expect them to work. They're time capsules. And some time capsules should stay buried.
The Theatrical Re-Release Question
So here's my thing: I believe in anniversaries. I really do. Celebrating cultural moments matters. Twilight WAS a phenomenon. It launched careers. It created a fandom. It means something to millions of people.
But not at any price.
Not at the price of pretending these movies work for modern audiences. Not at the price of exposing a new generation to relationship dynamics that we've spent the last 15 years learning to recognize as unhealthy. Not at the price of acting like the cringe doesn't exist.
If you loved Twilight in 2008? Great. Keep that memory. Hold onto what it meant to you then.
But bringing it back now? Making it an animated series? Putting it in theaters for people who weren't there the first time?
That's like trying to explain why your MySpace page was cool. You had to be there. And if you weren't, no amount of explanation is going to make it make sense.
And the Verdict is
I survived my Twilight rewatch. Barely. I made it through all five films. And here's what I learned: some things are better left in the past.
Twilight had its moment. It was HUGE. But that moment is over. Trying to resurrect it for 2025 audiences isn't honoring the legacy; it's exposing how deeply weird these movies actually were.
So if you're thinking about going to that theatrical re-release? Maybe just reread your old diary entries instead. They'll probably be less cringey.
And trust me, I say that having just watched Edward sparkle in HD for nine hours straight.