I’ve looked at it from every angle I could think of, put myself in the shoes of others and suspended all the disbelief I could afford and then some, but I’m finally prepared to admit defeat. I don’t get it.

I don’t understand “Twilight.”

I don’t understand the popularity. I don’t understand why it seems to have captured the imagination of a generation the way Harry Potter did. I especially don’t understand it because, from what I’ve seen, it’s just not very good.

I’m in no way a snob about the genre; I own all seven seasons of “Buffy the Vampire Slayer” and all five seasons of “Angel.” That’s 12 seasons of vampire-with-a-soul angst, female empowerment and doomed love, punctuated with scenes of ass kicking. I really enjoy HBO’s “True Blood,” which covers much the same ground (although it bugs me that when the vamps show their “game face,” the wrong teeth turn into fangs). So, if I’m familiar with (and not hostile to) this type of subject matter, why am I so perplexed with this one?

When we had a weeklong power outage last year, it was one of those rare occasions where I was between books. With a bunch of time suddenly on my hands, I picked up the first book in the series, which my wife had been reading. I got about 20 pages into it and decided that I’d rather watch the branches of the tree in our front yard sway in the breeze.

I didn’t see the first film in the theater. I heard pretty much the entire plot, and just stayed away. I braved it only when the RiffTrax version came out (which will be the topic of a future column), and my suspicions were confirmed. It was one of the worst movies I’d ever seen a major studio put out, bar none.

The logic problems alone are incredible. Given the power vs. drawback ratio, why wouldn’t you want to be a vampire in the world of “Twilight”? You get to live forever, you’re incredibly strong, there’s none of that nasty “soulless evil undead” vibe, and you could be all sparkly at the beach. The only downside would be dietary restrictions. Heck, I’d eat tofurky every Thanksgiving if I could bench press a car and never have to worry about losing my hair.

Honestly, I haven’t been this confused about an element of pop culture since “The Bridges of Madison County.” Back in 1995, that book took the world by storm so, even though it wasn’t my literary cup of tea, I read it to see what all the fuss was about. It was a quick read, and left me with one thought: Author Robert James Waller obviously sold his soul to the devil to get a best seller. It sold 50 million copies worldwide, and was one of the worst written pieces of twaddle that I had, and still have, ever read. It was so bad I just couldn’t put it down. One of the reviews on Amazon referred to it as a “blunt literary instrument,” and I can’t put it any better than that. I never could bring myself to see the film because I simply like Clint Eastwood too much.

But back to the sparkly vampires. My best friend and I made the tactical error of seeing a film a few hours before the second film in the franchise, “New Moon,” opened at midnight. Nearly six hours before its showing, an oddly age-diverse crowd of females (and four males who I dearly hope were there against their will with the promise of sweet angst-free lovin’ to come later), had formed one of the most rabid lines I had seen in a while. Now I know what people thought before the “Star Wars” films opened (and, no, I’ve never dressed like Boba Fett, no matter how tempting it is).

Now, I’ve been throwing out a lot of phrases, like “bad,” “worst” and “oh, dear God, did a chimp bang this out at a typewriter” (What, didn’t I use that one?), but I don’t really want to anger anyone. Honestly, some of these people are fruit-bat nuts. I’m not trying to have the snarky fanboy argument (I’m a veteran of “The Phantom Menace” wars, after all) that something sucks just because I don’t like it. People whose opinions I usually respect have become fans of this series; there must be something to it.

Is it because the protagonist is a plucky young woman in an age where there aren’t many role models for females of a certain age? Is it the allure of never-ending ageless love? The allegory of vampirism and the taboo of teenage sex? Is it all the cute pale boys with no shirts? Throw me a bone here!

One thing is for sure, though. If they film the final movie faithfully to the book “Breaking Dawn,” from what I’ve heard, I am so there. Problem is, that story is probably unfilmable. Concussion-level nookie? C-Sections via fang? Werewolf/infant love? It’s gonna take an extra-special director to deliver the goods (no pun intended).

All I know is that my soon-to-be 8-year-old nephew thinks that the natural order of things is that vampires sparkle in the sunlight instead of burst into flames, and that’s just wrong. Make vampires all smooth and sexy if you must, but they had better broil during the daylight hours.

And, just to give Buffy the final word, enjoy.

The Plot:

The Verdict: The plot of the film is simple, and in no way groundbreaking. The film’s strength is in the WAY it’s being told. The fun thing about Quentin Tarantino films is that you can tell they were made by someone who loves movies; not cinema – movies. His voice is that of a fan who has, somehow, been allowed to live the dream of the perfect job, and “Inglourious Basterds” is a full-throated shout.

If you’re the squeamish type, this might not be the film for you. Visually, the film is very similar to “Kill Bill,” from the “chapter” titles to the sometimes over-the-top violence. There are, however, scenes that are primarily dialog that go on, that would, in a hands of a less-confident director, become tiresome. I never felt that in this film. Those scenes, from the first scene at a French dairy farm to a spy mission in a bar’s basement, play their dialog as if it was music, and the music builds to a crescendo that is at once anticipated and still shocking.  The final scene in the theater is brilliant, both visually and from a story-telling perspective.

Bottom line, if you like Tarantino’s films, this is the best one since the “Kill Bill, Part One.”

Interesting Tidbits:

• Why the misspelling in the title? Tarantino said he’d never tell. “You do an artistic flourish like that,” he said, “and to explain it would just take the piss out of it and invalidate the whole stroke in the first place.”

• His performance in this film is good enough that I officially forgive Brad Pitt for his part in the film “Babel.” If you knew how much I hated that piece of overwrought Oscar-bait, you could fully appreciate that level of praise.

• This isn’t a documentary – don’t write a history paper based on this film. You’ll know what I mean when you see it….