Cloverfield

I've been tossing around what I think about Cloverfield for a few days now and I'm still not sure. It certainly was enjoyable while watching, kind of on a par with an amusement park ride, but about as substantial. It's also the kind of film that once you've left the theater you start to pick away at like a carrion bird, until you question whether you really had a good time watching it or not.

Cloverfield is basically a monster movie for the YouTube generation. As I'm sure everyone knows, this film is a document of some sort of creature wreaking havoc on New York City from the perspective of a citizen as he tapes everything with a cam-corder. As I walked out of the theater I mentioned to my companion that if I were in the same situation, I would have jettisoned the camera almost immediately, my main concern saving my own skin. She mentioned, quite rightly, that today's generation (the cast is all twenty-somethings) seem to videotape every moment of their lives. I don't own a video camera of any kind, so that compulsion is lost on me, but I'm sure to those who upload video onto YouTube, the occasion of an apocalyptic moment is prime opportunity to channel the inner Spielberg.

The action begins at a going away party for our protagonist, Rob. His dimwitted friend, Hud, has been entrusted to video goodbye messages. Mid-party a huge explosion rocks the city. It's interesting that this film exists outside of the world of 9/11, for the party-goers' first guess is that they've experienced an earthquake. In post-9/11 New York, I'm certain that would not be everyone's first assumption. The spectre of 9/11, which haunts this film at the beginning (and crystallizes with the image of a building collapsing, with the resulting billows of dust cascading down the street) but as the film went on the queasiness of that connection dissipated, and the film settled down as a run-of-the-mill monster film, without any political overtones.

After the monster, who is only seen partially throughout the film (until a pretty mesmerizing closeup view at the end) starts running amok (he tosses the head of the Statue of Liberty down an avenue, which I'm guessing was producer J.J. Abrams' initial image in this project) the party-goers scatter, most of them realizing Manhattan isn't the place to be, and try to cross the Brooklyn Bridge. But Rob gets a frantic call from a friend (who he hopes will be a girlfriend). She's trapped in a building way uptown. So, in true cinematic bravery/stupidity, a small band of them head toward the danger.

Most of this is dumb fun. The easiest comparison is to The Blair Witch Project, but Cloverfield doesn't stint on the scares like that film did. I also didn't have a problem with the hand-held nature of the filming, though apparently some viewers are getting nauseous. There are some nice set pieces, like a scene in a subway tunnel with some little critters (the big monster spawns rather easily). The cast is as generically good-looking as bland as that of a typical beer commercial, and just as forgettable.

Perhaps the best thing about this film is it's brevity, it's so short it doesn't let you focus on inconsistencies. It fits into its genre rather nicely (the man sitting in front of me literally jumped out of his seat at one scare) and maintains the integrity of the gimmick. The term popcorn-film is overused, but I think Cloverfield is a prime example.