Pack the Dramamine, kids, because Cloverfield—the newest creation from Lost/Alias wunderkind J.J. Abrams—is a visceral thrill ride with a few new twists on the classic monster-destroys-New York trope.
For years, especially during the height of the Cold War, the monster movie was a Hollywood staple. Not only did these films provide plenty of shrieks and scares, they also helped to symbolically exorcise the nation’s collective fears about everything from the dangers of atomic energy (Them, It Came From Beneath The Sea) to the rise of the women’s movement (Attack of the 50 Foot Woman). Alas, as the local drive-in theater has given way to the suburban multiplex, a decreasing number of monsters, giant women and big-brained aliens have graced the silver screen. So the anticipation and corporate secrecy around Cloverfield have been fierce, and with reason: not since the 1990 Kevin Bacon cult classic Tremors has Hollywood come up with a creature movie this good.
On the night before Rob (the square-jawed Michael Stahl-David) is to ship out to Japan for a high-profile job, his friends throw him a going-away party. The hip Gen Y well-wishers crammed into the swanky NYC loft include the dim-witted videographer Hud (T.J. Miller) and Rob’s on-again, off-again love interest Beth McIntyre (Odette Yustman). The couple’s inevitable confrontation is cut short when a massive earthquake strikes the city, cutting off the power and plunging everything into darkness. Fleeing the building, Rob and his friends realize that this is no typical natural disaster: a hideous creature intent on clobbering Manhattan and every single one of its well-styled inhabitants has descended upon the sleeping city. From there, Director Matt Reeves’s hyperactive film devolves into a rather formulaic monster movie, complete with a rag-tag crew of survivors trying to make it to an evacuation site before ending up as tapas.
While firmly rooted in the campy creature films of the 1950s, Cloverfield is updated for a contemporary audience. The monster—a bastardized squid/ wolverine/mantis—is amazingly well-rendered in CGI, and its parasitic, spider-like progeny are genuinely scary. The film’s tight editing, chilling sound design and frenetic cinematography ratchet up the fear factor as each of the protagonists are picked off one by one. Several scenes, staged to mimic images of frightened New Yorkers running from plumes of smoke and ash on September 11th, are particularly effective. Furthermore, a clever viral marketing scheme—wherein the origins of the creature may or may not be tied to a fictional Japanese beverage called Slush-o (www.slusho.jp)—shows just how hooked in J.J. Abrams and his ilk at Paramount are to today’s consumer culture.
Yet the movie is certainly not without problems: though only 84 minutes long, the jumpy Blair Witch-style camera work will surely test the strongest of stomachs. The cast, while undoubtedly an attractive lot, makes little impression before being thoroughly masticated by the monster. And one can’t help but wonder how in the world Hud’s camera continues to function even after being crushed by flying debris, thrown from a crashing helicopter and gnawed on by the giant creature. But if you’re looking for a good old-fashioned scare blended with a little modern panache, Cloverfield will eat at you for a few sleepless nights to come.
