'Cloverfield' A Jittery, Predictable Mess
Published on 1/25/2008
Moviegoers, here's a heads up: "Cloverfield" is a brisk, jumpy little monster drama ("mon-dram," as it were) that will have you on the edge of your seat.
That is, of course, because you'll be fishing under the seat for a crumpled napkin, a half-empty popcorn bag, a flattened Milk Duds box -- something, anything that can double as a vomit-holding receptacle. No, the film's topsy-turvy, skittish, near seizure-inducing camera work is not for the faint-stomached. The angles are meant to create a sense of emotional urgency, and they do -- it just so happens they serve it up with an unpleasant side of nausea and a chaser of vertigo.
But enough with this dizzy-up-the-viewer talk. There's more to "Cloverfield," which clocks in at a very crisp 84 minutes, than wibbly-wobbly camera shots. For starters, there's the intriguing premise, which is so full of promise there's no way the execution can match the concept. Meet Rob (Michael Stahl-David), a 20-something New Yorker whose big-time promotion means a transfer to Japan. His friends -- including Hud (T.J. Miller), the videographer, Lily (Jessica Lucas) and Marlena (Lizzy Caplan) -- throw him a bon voyage party.
The comical if slightly ho-hum party scene gobbles up about 30 minutes of the film's running time, and then the tension finally explodes: The electricity flickers, there's a mysterious explosion in mid-town Manhattan and the Statue of Liberty's head lands, bloodied (is that blood?) and jagged, in the middle of the street. From then on, the team of survivors spend a lot of time screaming, crying, making obvious exclamations (one character helpfully notes that rats in the subway tunnels are "nasty") and running. Oh yes, there is much, much running ... which makes the camera jump and bump ... which makes the viewers queasy ... it's a vicious, self-perpetuating cycle.
Running and jumpy videography aside, though, "Cloverfield" has a few strong points. Part of the film's strength, oddly enough, is the characters. They are, to a degree, celluloid cutouts, generic Anypeople who aren't particularly bright or unique or memorable. They do blockhead monster movie things (i.e., run up the stairs instead of out the door) and have conversations we've heard thousands of times (recycled monster movie jargon). They're not given "Personalities." All we know about these people is what we learn at the party scene. But that works here, since there's not enough time -- literally -- for much character development.
Another bonus is the fact that director Matt Reeves doesn't pander to his audience. There is a heck of a monster (CGI be praised) in "Cloverfield," but virtually nothing is known about the creature (except, of course, that it could use some anger-management training). What is it? Why is it here? What will it do? It's both maddening and refreshing that these questions never get answered; thus, viewers have to draw their own conclusions, fill in the gaps with their own theories. (I smell a not-so-secretive 9/11 metaphor.)
Yet all this cannot save "Cloverfield" from dissolving into a puddle of monster movie clichés. The once-bitten-twice-infected angle has been done to death (pardon the pun), and it gets another half-hearted revival here. (Directors and movie producers everywhere, we got that memo. Move on.) The monster destruction scenes feel like they've been recycled from, oh, take your pick -- "Godzilla," "King Kong," etc. There's a scene involving Brooklyn Bridge that is, well, so predictable it's almost insulting. The monster isn't quite as scary as our imagination, and the monsterlets look like they were lifted right off the "Aliens" set. Sigh.
Effective, even gripping at times, "Cloverfield" is one of those disappointing films that could have done more with less. Our stomachs would have been grateful.
Grade: C
