CLOVERFIELD
Reviewed by Sam Hatch
When I first saw Transformers back in the summer of '07, I like many people was rocked to the core by the untitled teaser attached to it. The one that begins as a seemingly mundane piece about some young corporate hotshot fixin' to move to Japan, until suddenly things go wrong and the Statue of Liberty's head comes sailing out of the sky. As Keanu Reeves would say - “Whoah!”
The trailer was so good that I certainly couldn't get buzzed about watching Transformers, since all I wanted to see was the remainder of this enigmatic horror film. After a quick bit of Googling, I along with the rest of the online geek community discovered that J.J. Abrams was producing this thing tentatively called Cloverfield, and while it was purportedly a monster movie not much more was known. The only promise was that our worlds would be further rocked on 01.18.08.
With this kind of buzz, it was pretty much a given that some people would be completely disappointed by the finished product, but as a new spin on a classic B-monster mash it certainly does the job. The big description tossed about is that it's a combination of Godzilla and The Blair Witch Project, which is entirely apt. I would also toss a liberal sprinkling of The Host into the mix, but once again that recent film was probably at least slightly inspired by the original Japanese Gojira.
There was a slew of online conjecture over what the creature was and what it would look like, and thankfully all of it was proven wrong. Cloverfield isn't definitively the name of the creature, but rather a military code name for the entire incident the thing creates once it works its way to the shores of Manhattan. Apparently, there was a studio memo somewhere that said it was 'game on' again for destroying New York, and some of the ensuing nightmare can become a little too frightening when viewed through fear-tinged, post-9/11 eyes.
That said, I never expected the monster to attack Boise or Hartford, and New York is still such a great playground for a massive, squishy behemoth. If you're looking for an American equivalent to Tokyo, it's definitely the ticket. It's also cutely ironic that the main character Rob Hawkins (Michael Stahl-David) finds himself under monstrous attack before he relocates to Japan.
The opening of the film is a variation on the original teaser trailer, and introduces both Rob's brother Jason (Mike Vogel) and his best-friend Hudson “Hud” Platt (T.J. Miller). Hud is a mook doofus who reluctantly becomes the de facto videographer at Rob's going away party after Jason pins the job on him. This riles Jason's control freak girlfriend Lily (Jessica Lucas), who has planned every last stitch of the party in detail. Hud decides to run with the gig when he realizes it can get him close to the brooding, boyish Marlena (Lizzy Caplan), an emo chick who can care less about her dimwitted suitor.
The gimmick of showing an hour and a half (or just shy thereof as is the case here) of amateur footage while asking the audience to buy into its verisimilitude is a tricky proposition - especially in situations where characters undergo severe trauma and off-the-chart amounts of stress. It's one thing to keep the camera rolling at a party or an acoustic coffee house performance, but wouldn't you drop the camera and run once faced with a multi-story betentacled beasty that looks like it was vomited straight out of the imagination of H.P. Lovecraft? And any true document of this sort would contain at least one ten-minute stretch showing someone's sneaker as an entire conversation takes place off camera.
The Blair Witch Project circumvented this conundrum with the very clever gimmick of one character using the camera as a coping mechanism, trying to detach from the horrors at hand by viewing everything through the viewfinder – becoming one step removed from reality. Cloverfield's writer Drew Goddard (a J.J. Abrams regular who's scripted plenty of Lost and Alias episodes) is also aware of the fine line between conceptual success and complete failure. Through Hud's simpleminded adoption of his duty to document the entire evening and gather testimonials, Goddard latches on to a plausible enough scenario.
The film takes its time getting to the meaty bits, and you'd be forgiven for initially thinking that you'd wandered into some sort of sequel to Reality Bites. The film opens with a cute military test signal announcing that the following footage was recovered from Central Park after the 'incident', and from there we move to some nice moments establishing a relationship between Rob and his dream girl Beth (Odette Yustman). This solitary day of romance and bliss eventually serves as a jarring counterpart to the horrors to come, as (typical of traditional video recorders lacking flying erase heads) every time Hud stops the camera snippets of the previously recorded material underneath crop up for a few seconds.
Given the choice between riding ferris wheels at Coney Island and trying to outrun a demonic creature that seemingly can't be stopped, I'd opt for the former. Wouldn't make for quite as entertaining a movie, however. Whereas I Am Legend chose to omit most of the catastrophe that befalls Manhattan in that film, Cloverfield gets right in the nitty gritty, trapping the viewer in dangerous city streets as statue heads and portions of buildings fly every which way. Early on, there's a building collapse that is eerily reminiscent of the World Trade Center disaster, forcing our heroes to seek shelter in a derelict store as dust clouds choke the streets outside.
If there's one thing this film does exceedingly well, it's conveying the sober reality of these characters' situations. Much like the early waterfront attack scenes from The Host, the special effects team manages to seamlessly insert non-existent elements (monsters, destroyed buildings, flaming debris) into manic, jerky frames. It's truly amazing how convincing this footage is, and it fully realizes the visual freedom originally envisioned by motion-control effects gurus such as Doug Trumbull.
Unlike many a traditional monster film, the beast is not the main character here. It is well represented throughout the piece, but only when its course intersects with that of our protagonists. Rob wrestles with his decision to leave behind a woman he thinks he loves, and when he receives a plaintive cell phone message from her, he abandons all hope of leaving the city and instead moves inward to rescue her from the gaping maws of the gargantuan monstrosity.
Even though he's labeled “a bit of a douchebag” and is barely tolerated by his own brother (who is kind of a spoiled punk himself – most of his screen time is spent complaining to his girlfriend about one thing or another), Rob commands enough respect amongst his companions to convince them to accompany him on his suicide mission. The rest of the film documents these shell-shocked survivors as they repeatedly hop from one frying pan to the next.
There are plenty of genuinely creepy moments (a trip through a pitch black subway tunnel) accompanied by a fair share of anxiety-inducing thrills (a journey through a semi-toppled high-rise apartment). There's also a spin on the traditional army-versus-creature standoff, though there are no shoddy toy jeeps to be found. When Cloverfield shows you soldiers firing rockets at the thing from the perspective of petrified civilians caught in the crossfire, it's pretty intense.
The monster is barely explained, which doesn't really matter since the characters are the core of the story. We get to see a few news broadcasts and listen to a half-formed hypothesis or two, but all you need to know is that it is there and it is not friendly. Predictably, J.J. Abram's nerd command center has launched a viral marketing campaign that hints at the history of the creature and its ties to the faux soft drink Slusho.
I never had the time to delve into the multi-media game that filled the gap between seasons two and three of Lost, and I don't see myself spending an evening or two looking into this one either. But that's what Wikipedia's for, anyhow. The good news is that you do not need any of this information to enjoy the film proper. The filmmakers also have plenty of fun revealing an entirely new creature mythology, spilling nasty little surprises here and there.
The whitebread characters may not be all that interesting in the long run (and Hud can toe the line between humorously dim and annoying), but the love story at the center of the tale is effective enough in asking the viewer to place themselves in their shoes. There are also some moments that strain credibility – the stunning sight of flaming debris smashing into the surrounding neighborhood incites the partygoers to search not for a basement, but to stand vulnerably in the middle of the street!
There's also a segment when the Rob-squad crosses paths with the military, and one must ask why those in command don't seize the camcorder right then and there. This isn't too egregious an offense however, since the soldiers are portrayed as frazzled and overworked, so perhaps they wouldn't have time to bother with this one breach of national security.
There are also segments where seamless edits occur (primarily in the high-rise adventure), which run contrary to the realistic pauses created throughout the rest of the footage. And while it is believable that Hud would film the monster whenever possible due to the fantastic nature of it, it becomes increasingly less convincing that he would take the time to film some of the more down-to-Earth dangers that he and others encounter. Sorry, but if I had to climb out of a window onto the tilted rooftop of a precariously balanced apartment tower, Mister Camera would be the first thing to go (my bowels would probably be second).
At eighty-four minutes, the film is just the right length, since the concept just about wears out its welcome during the finale (which again contains some incredible effects work). I've heard comments about how the nature of the piece reflects society's addiction to viewing amateur footage as outlets like YouTube have exploded in popularity, and I kind of wish that thought was explored further. The fact that so many people in one city are armed with video-recording devices yields a bountiful harvest of possibilities for a concept such as the one employed in Cloverfield.
The thought struck me that much as the coverage of 9/11 was compiled from numerous amateur photojournalists, this film should have been an anthology of short films detailing the demonic siege from the viewpoints of numerous sets of characters, both civilian and otherwise. That would keep the action fresh throughout, and wouldn't ask the audience to believe that any one person would continually film throughout the entire evening. The love story angle could still work in a shorter vignette, and it would have left room for plenty of other creative takes on the same event.
Apparently this same thought occurred to director Matt Reeves (who previously helmed the David Schwimmer vehicle The Pallbearer. Huh?), who recently announced at the premiere that a potential sequel could be concocted via the 'found footage' of another citizen (particularly one guy with a camera who appears on the Brooklyn Bridge during an early escape attempt). I still stand by my assertion that a collection of short films would be more effective, and hopefully they will adopt that method for the inevitable sequel, instead of asking us to believe that someone else compiled massive amounts of amazing footage.
That said, Cloverfield works wonders at reviving a well-worn horror cinema template. It's not the 'best thing ever' that many J.J.-philes were expecting, but it delivers a solid and highly entertaining romp. It almost cleanses the palate after that misguided Roland Emmerich remake of Godzilla ten years ago. I don't know if it succeeded in creating a “Godzilla for America”, since the focus ultimately wasn't on the creature itself, but it certainly succeeded at delivering a rollercoaster ride experience rife with sensory overload. So pop some Dramamine, grab an extra large cup of Slusho and strap yourself in!