I am a professor of medieval literature. To me vampires signify the dubious inventions of that literary half-talent Bram Stoker or the evil grandpa-looking Nosferatu of the golden age of German silent cinema. And though I live only in the deepest recesses of European libraries, I have been told that there is a contemporary tome called Twilight and that it has resulted in some sort of stateside cultural hub-bub. Under normal circumstances, attending the premier of a film intended for shrieking teen girls would be the equivalent of volunteering for the cinematic torture in A Clockwork Orange. But these are lean times, and the world's foremost universities aren't exactly clamoring for scholiasts of Chaucer. So here I am, a sturgeon decidedly out of its intellectual water, swimming amok in the mass psychosis that is midnight screening of the opening of New Moon. 

First of all, if you are a heterosexual male who claims he can't meet women, there is no reason on earth why you should have skipped the film's premiere last night. Despite the late hour and pouring rain, a line of women — mostly in their late teens, twenties and thirties — stretched around the block. Four sold-out theaters full of estrogen and popcorn and excitement, oh my. Sometimes too much excitement. As the movie began and the title card slowly (very, very slowly) appeared on the screen, two drunk girls next to me decided to rabble-rouse.

"Oooooooooooo, Twilight!" one shouted, in a mock-tween register.

"It's a 'New Moon!'" the other shrieked.

This had the intended effect, in that no less than ten other girls quickly shushed the drunk girls. Some with a bit more rage than others, as a lass across the aisle took a direct approach and loudly stage-whispered, "Shut the fuck up!"

"If you don't want people to make noise then don't come to a fucking midnight screening, bitch!" one of the drunkards shouted back.

"How about I come over there and smash your fucking face in!" The title card, it should be noted, had still not completed its slow fade across the screen. For a vampire movie that turned out to be relatively bloodless, the audience was more than ready to throw down in the aisles.

For me, this was the most fraught moment of the entire film. But I'm jumping ahead. As you know, Nerve made me do it, but here are ten reasons — perhaps the only ten reasons — you should, as well:

1. Because you are a heterosexual female or a guy with (latent) homosexual leanings.

Wow, that was some man-candy! The plot of New Moon does not center around a space-shuttle discovery of a new celestial body, but rather the celestial bodies of one handsome young werewolf stud (played by Taylor Lautner) and an even hotter, goth vampire ultra-hottie (Robert Pattinson) as they vie for a teenaged human female (Kristen Stewart). She's cute, but New Moon almost had me handing in my het card.

2. Because, even though you're very aroused looking at beautiful people, the last thing you want to do is have sex.

Pretty much every aspect of New Moon seems to be saying (again and again) that men should be feared. First, you have to be afraid of the vampires, who — if you let them have their way with you (and, yes, every fiber of your being wants to let them have their way with you) — will rob you of your soul, clearly the film's code word for your virginity. As one fan tells me, "It's like porn for virgins — a series of unsatisfied arousals." Everyone knows that Twilight's author is a Mormon, and it seems like she hit the perfect adolescent combination of lust, longing, idealization, and repression. Moral of the story: love as much as you can, just make sure it's unrealizable and forbidden!

3. Because you're actually afraid of men in general, even though you apparently need them to protect you.

Only slightly less subtle is the message sent by the werewolves, who, if you ever get them angry, won't be able to keep themselves from domestic violence. Yes, they are supposedly protecting women from vampires, but then they have to warn the women to protect themselves from the werewolves. Hello, feminism, anyone? Can't a girl defend herself, or pick better partners?