God, Please Save These Troubled States

When I walked into the main courtyard of the Bronson Gate of Paramount Studios, I saw a replica of the Statue of Liberty--headless of course--installed over the fountain. I knew this meant that the marketing for Cloverfield, the J.J. Abrams-produced monster extravaganza, had reached it's pivotal extreme. They were taking this seriously.

As much as I'd been hyping this movie, the past week had filled me with doubt. I mean, the movie couldn't be as good as everyone was saying it was, right? Was it really a reinvention of the monster/horror genre? Or was I to be sorely disappointed?


Cloverfield opens without a typical title sequence. (Of course, the film soon proved to be unlike typical movies anyway.) We're greeted to a watermarked image and title, courtesy of the Department of Defense, and the set up begins: This is found footage in the case designated "Cloverfield." The tape was recovered in the area "formerly known as Central Park."

The film operates in two distinct manners: We learn that the tape made to document Rob (Michael Stahl-David) was actually recorded over old footage Rob had made of a day he had spent with longtime friend Beth McIntyre (Odette Yustman) after a night sleeping together. Occasionally, the film cuts back to the original footage, which proves necessary when the "event" strikes New York.

At this point, I think most of you know the basic plot: A strange "creature" attacks New York City, decapitates the Statue of Liberty, and creates utter chaos. So let's skip past any sort of plot summary (which you won't be getting) and address the main concerns I had going into the movie and whether they were met or not.


First off, don't read a single spoiler. Some of them explain what happens and I assure you, this movie will be so much more enjoyable (and impressive) if you know nothing more than what is in the trailer. To put this in plain words: AIN'T NO SPOILERS IN HERE.

The acting in Cloverfield is competent and suitable; occasionally a bit over the top, occasionally a bit melodramatic, but never flat-out terrible. I'm willing to admit that in a situation as stressful and traumatic as the one we see on screen, there's bound to be a ton of melodrama and over-the-top bravado, so it's not unbearable or distracting. The real gem, though, is Hud (T.J. Miller), who operates the camera for the large bulk of the film.

At face value, he does seem to be the character who archetypically provides the comic relief during an intense horror flick. But it isn't forced and Drew Goddard (writer) was smart enough to use Hud to acknowledge a large number of concerns that the audience might have with the story and the way it's framed.

There's a scene in the subway in which Hud awkwardly chooses to discuss a past incident in the New York subway system that would scare him at that very moment. It's an incident of comic genius, but also a realistic way for a person like Hud to deal with a horrific trauma: using humor to defuse a situation. Marlena Diamond (Lizzy Caplan), Rob, and Lily (Jessica Lucas) all react in a similar way: utter contempt that Hud would even try to be humorous in such a situation

To me, it was moments like these (there are quite a few) that make this movie so realistic. (Even if, at times, the movie does dip into the fantastical.) I'd like to think it's due to the fact that Matt Reeves had the actors improv a great deal of the lines. Not to say the dialog is perfect; there are a handful of incredibly cheesy lines, especially prior to the film's climax, and the now infamously dumb line that's found on posters across the nation: "Whatever it is, it's winning." Seriously, who the fuck would say that?

The cinematography is stunning, for the most part, though my motion sickness kicked in about 30 minutes in. I was shocked at how many times I was impressed by the camera work on an HD handheld. Much like last year's I Am Legend, there's something to be said for directors who can properly frame a fractured and abandoned city. Whereas Legend focused on an empty city, Reeves and company absolutely succeed at showing us a New York that has begun to decimate.

There's a surreal shot on the Brooklyn Bridge early on, as we see the first attack up close. We're haunted by the view of the skyline, set askew, from inside a building that is literally resting upon another. The overhead shots from the helicopter are mesmerizing. The night vision scene in the subway is dynamic.

But enough with adjectives and superlatives. At this point, you're probably screaming, "WELL? WHAT ABOUT THE GODDAMN MONSTER?"

I'm not going to tell you what it is. What it looks like. Where it came from. What it does. I will say this: I was completely satisfied.

The first glimpses we get are the same ones we've seen in trailers and extended scenes. However, the film wastes no time to show us what we've been waiting for. And it does it a lot. In every angle: below, above, beside, underneath, and so on. And, in the final moments, Reeve's promise that we'll get an "intimate" view of the monster is satisfied in a way I could never expect.

It's frightening. It's overwhelming. It's goddamned relentless. Harry Knowles spoke of a specific scene that knocked him back 3 feet. It takes place in the subway and as it came upon the audience, I found myself yelling in my head, "Fuck, fuck, fuck, FUCK, FUCK!" It was seconds later, as the events on the screen reached a frenetic fever pitch, that I realized I was saying them outloud. I realized I had also pulled up my legs into my chest and when the relief came, the audience clapped. We'd just been completely controlled by the film on the screen.

I haven't been to a ton of screeners, but this was the most vocal of the critic audiences I'd ever seen. People cussing, swearing, groaning, and begging. In other words: A complete blast.

Abrams said he was inspired by Godzilla and the obsessive culture that surrounds the genre in Japan; in many ways, this film is an homage not only to that, but the idea that so many Japanese horror films embrace: There is no need to over-explain  a horrible situation. Japanese films drop you into their world and you're there to believe.


Is this a genre reinvention? I'd have to agree that it is, because this film harkened back to days when I was younger and I'd become obsessed with a film months before it came out. (I could list any number of them; there are a ton of animated Disney movies in there.) I'd wait anxiously for the day it would arrive, begging my mom to take me to opening night. And I'd sit there, enraptured with the events and the images on the screen. I'd leave the theater, elated and excited. And when it came out on DVD, I'd watch it a couple trillion times.

I want to do this with Cloverfield. It's intense, relentless, and surprisingly bleak. (Who would expect a blockbuster to be so dark?) The filming technique, which could have easily been increasingly annoying, is an aid to the story. It could have hindered the movie, but it adds that much more realism to the film. People die. (And in horrible, horrible ways.) There's enough violence and blood to satisfy those looking for more grisly fare, but there's also enough off-screen hints and subtle plot drives to make this film more intelligent than I expected.

And I'm glad I can say this definitely: The monster FUCKING RULES.

Cloverfield is released on January 18, 2008. Take your friends and experience a movie the way it should be experienced: on the big screen.