Like a sparkly, impossibly dreamy bear trap, the Twilight saga has pop culture in a death grip that shows no sign of abating any time soon. The glowering faces of stars Robert Pattinson and Kristen Stewart dominate magazine racks and prime time TV, while a merchandising machine pumps out Twilight band-aids and body glitter at a frightening clip. Perhaps more telling are the reams of unauthorized goodies, from Edward Cullen panties and shower curtains to glittery vampire dildos and (I swear to God) heroin baggies.

So what kind of entertainment editor would I be if I didn’t take in New Moon, the latest installment in the film adaptations of Stephenie Meyer’s book series? Directed by Chris Weitz (About a Boy, The Golden Compass), New Moon is a fascinating case study in stretching out an impossibly flimsy narrative to absurd lengths. The plot, as it were: high school student Bella Swan (Stewart) and ageless and sexy vampire Edward Cullen (Pattinson) are in love. We know this because they look meaningfully at one another and say thing like “You’re my only reason to stay alive…if that’s what I am.” As the script frequently reminds us, Edward is torn between his feelings for Bella and his desire to kick back with a cool glass of mopey teenage plasma. So when an unfortunate papercut causes Edward’s brother Jasper (who looks distractingly like Harpo Marx) to go all Nosferatu on Bella’s ass, he decides it would be best if he abandoned her and never saw her again in order to protect her. So Bella spends the next few months moping around, having frequent night terrors and shrieking as if going through heroin withdrawal. She does, however, find solace in the company of sexy "werewolf" Jacob Black (Taylor Lautner), and in the visions of Edward that appear when she does something risky like (seriously) ride a dirtbike.

And that’s it, really. There are some spectacularly half-hearted attempts to inject some tension into the story with the introduction of a vengeful vampire from the first movie, and a trip to Italy to prevent Edward from being killed by the Volturi (like the Vatican, but campier and for vampires). But mostly New Moon is a showcase for a morose teenager mooning over personality-free supernatural mancandy. This wouldn't be so bad if the movie weren’t two hours and ten minutes long and treated with the same gravity and seriousness as the D-Day landing in Saving Private Ryan. Moments of levity and humor are largely unintentional, like the frequent and inexplicable shirtlessness of Jacob’s wolfpack (which happened to coincide with the projector going out, twice), and some of the hokiest CGI work in recent memory.

If nothing else, New Moon passably evokes that age when matters of love and burgeoning sexuality seem like Life and Death Situations – but instead of incorporating this into a larger, more interesting narrative, the filmmakers are content to just wallow in it. So if you’re fourteen and the boy/girl of your dreams won’t pay you any attention, you might get something out of New Moon. Anyone looking for a decent movie, however, is out of luck. You’re better off saving your money for a sparkly dildo.