Cloverfield

When the teaser trailer for Cloverfield was unveiled to millions before Transformers on a sweltering Fourth of July weekend, it didn’t even have a title. Instead, it was comprised of jagged, static-filled clips of some sort of party, an explosion, and, most ominously, a shot of the Statue of Liberty’s head rolling through a decimated New York city block. The audio that accompanied this carnage? The same that would be on the tip of America’s collective tongue for the next six months: “What is it?”

"It," as it turns out, is the next generation of monster movies. Produced by J.J. Abrams (LOST) and directed by Matt Reeves (Felicity), Cloverfield is the Blair Witch equivalent of a big action flick, a cinema vérité spasm of a film. At its center is clean-cut Rob Hawkins (Michael Stahl-David), whose acceptance of a job in Japan has inspired a farewell party and, in turn, the video that we’re now watching. Several handfuls of well-wishers turn up on camera to wish Rob all the best, among them his brother (Mike Vogel), his should-be girlfriend (Odette Yustman), his oafish best friend (T.J. Miller), and many more stock personalities seemingly plucked from the CW Network. But no sooner have we settled down into a standard post-teen drama—Rob and his lady are dealing with relationship issues—when buildings burst into flames, the sky begins to fall, and Lady Liberty loses her head. Cut to—or maybe we should say, shake the camera all over the place then come back into focus on—something attacking the city.

What ensues as our fresh-faced heroes and heroines take to the street to get banged up, bruised, and attacked, is visceral and fast-paced action. Unlike Godzilla or Korea’s The Host, however, this movie stays firmly placed in the hands—and narrow perspectives—of our new friends. So, as it progresses and characters meet their inevitable and untimely demises, there are few answers about what is actually attacking the city and more of a base sense of self-preservation. In essence, Cloverfield becomes a twisted monster movie that’s all about the hunted (Rob 'n' friends) while the Empire State-sized baddie is just a plot foil.

Too bad, then, that we could care little for the tenuous personalities that we’re presented with. Like conventionally tragic horror films where the audience screams for the ingénue not to investigate that sound in the dark room, the cast here behaves just as blindly. The decision to backtrack through the city to save a character, given everything they’ve already encountered, reeks of contrivance. (Granted, there would be no movie without these turns, but oh how we wish for more common sense under fire.) Likewise, the shakycam gimmick, a ploy that aspires to ultimate reality, ironically backfires; characters foolishly worry about documenting and retrieving the camera even as critters the size of a VW Beetle are lunging at them. What does it take to realize that your life is more important?

Cloverfield is not all forehead slapping blunders, though. The initial attack sequence is a brilliant and engrossing display of cinematic fireworks and confusion. Thanks in large part to its massive, mysterious viral campaign, the movie flexes extremely long legs, too. Human curiosity—which also killed the cat, remember—is a strange thing; you can’t help but want to know more. Thus, a bustling internet back story and the plot-holes surrounding the monster leave audiences hungry for more. Easter eggs, little wink-wink elements in the film that you wouldn’t notice unless you were looking for them, add another element of fun and involvement, not to mention cause for multiple viewings. Does something that could explain the monster’s origin fall from the sky into the ocean in the last few frames of the film? Blink and you'll never know.

—Matthew Allard
05.16.08