What is it about the creatures of the night (and now, slick supermodels from outer space) that get the girls all hot and bothered? Or better still, why aren't they responding in kind to authentic depictions of love and caring as part of the celluloid set-up?
For fans of the fiscally fascinating literary works of one Stephenie Meyer, the week of 16 November, 2012 will go down in double your ridiculous RomComDram pleasure history. You see, this is the week that Bill Condon unleashes his wholly unnecessary second half to the already under-baked and underwhelming Breaking Dawn, otherwise known as Bella and Edward kick Volturi butt, otherwise known as the final installment in the insipid, uninspired, Anne Rice should still sue series known as Twilight. As the usual unwed and sick of soccer suspects line up to give the Cullens and those shirtless Native American werewolf counterparts a slobbering sultry goodbye, the studio shills have been waiting in the wings, busy prepping the next wannabe phenom, another mangled Meyer’s work about alien invasion and post pre-pubescent love.
That’s right, no sooner are we done with the sparkly ridiculousness of the entire vampire lover routine than The Host arrives, in less than tempting trailer form. The movie, like Invasion of the Body Snatchers as imagined by Abercrombie and Fitch, offers a young girl (the deserves much better Oscar nominee Saoirse Ronan) who fights against her soul-inhabiting extraterrestrial ‘thing’ to stay connected with the rest of humanity, and some hunky bland boy toy (Max Irons, son of Jeremy). From the Wikipedia outline of the novel, it appears that our heroine, Melanie Stryder, has an ongoing internal monologue with her problematic space parasite (known as “Wanderer”) battling against her emotions and memories while walking a fine line between enemy of the remaining real people and spy for her cosmic counterparts.