Imagine sitting through a 12-hour Twilight marathon in 2025, eyes burning but refusing to close—because, let’s face it, this is peak fandom. But here’s where it gets controversial: is this a nostalgic celebration or a masochistic test of endurance? Let’s dive in.
It’s 4 a.m. on a Saturday, and the Randwick Ritz has transformed into a chaotic haven for die-hard Twilight fans. The atmosphere? Think airport terminal after a major delay—everyone’s past caring about appearances, prioritizing comfort over pride. We’re on the third of five films during the ‘breakfast break,’ revisiting the star-crossed tale of Bella Swan, the awkward teen who falls for Edward Cullen, a perpetually 17-year-old vampire in the misty town of Forks, Washington. This marathon, running from 8:30 p.m. Friday to 8 a.m. Saturday, is one of many global events marking the 20th anniversary of Stephenie Meyer’s blockbuster series. With over 160 million books sold and $3.6 billion in box office earnings, Twilight’s staying power is undeniable—especially when you see 150 exhausted fans sprawled across the Ritz’s 660-seat theater, napping on floors or claiming multiple chairs as their own.
The crowd is a mix of Gen Zers, chaperoned Alphas, a smattering of millennials, and more men than expected (thanks to a group of guys who spent the first film debating whether it was meant to be a comedy). While some still sport Twilight merch—like a cape adorned with Edward Cullen’s face—others have swapped costumes for pajamas, silk hair nets, and face masks. Energy drinks fuel the teens, their sugary sweat creating an unmistakable aroma, while others crack open beers or sip flat whites. And this is the part most people miss: amidst the chaos, there’s a strange camaraderie among those who’ve survived seven hours, bonded by an unspoken vow to endure the marathon together.
‘The weak-links and fake Twi-hards have left,’ declares Bert, my newfound comrade. Isabella chimes in, ‘My eyes are stinging, but damn it, they’re open.’ Are those glitter tears? Some fans opt for strategic naps during the slower films—though no one agrees which one deserves the title of ‘dud.’ Phoebe, a 20-year-old student, insists it’s Eclipse, echoing a common critique: ‘Nothing happens, bro! It’s lame as hell.’ I can’t argue; revisiting the franchise after 2012, I’m struck by its repetitiveness: Bella wants to be a vampire, Edward resists, a threat is defeated, rinse and repeat.
So why am I here, dressed as Edward Cullen, my foundation caking and glitter clinging to my face? Partly for journalism, but mostly because, as a mid-2000s kid, Twilight is in my DNA. To borrow Bella’s words, I’m ‘unconditionally and irrevocably in love’ with its melodramatic world of vampires, werewolves, and baffling cinematic choices—from Emmett’s egg yolks to the CGI disaster that is Renesmee, Bella and Edward’s hybrid baby. Phoebe sums it up: ‘There’s something ridiculously camp about Twilight. The bad acting, the blue filter in the first film—it’s a cultural phenomenon now, a mix of cringe and love for its absurdity.’
This crowd lives for the cringe, reciting TikTok-famous moments and booing Renesmee (one fan even shouts ‘Clanker!’ after her birth). Bella’s dad, Charlie Swan, steals the show, earning cheers as the audience’s favorite. But the best moments are spontaneous: a lone clap during Bella and Edward’s engagement, or murmurs of confusion when Bella defends her half-vampire baby with pro-life arguments. ‘It’s the random conversations and laughter that make it worth it,’ Phoebe says.
By 8 a.m., the survivors pose for a quick photo, most fleeing to catch up on sleep. I’m left alone, glittering in the morning sun, wondering: Is Twilight a guilty pleasure or a cultural masterpiece? Let’s debate in the comments—I’m here for the hot takes.
