Cloverfield: Death, Disaster, and Love in Our Age of Unreason

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CLOVERFIELD, New Theatrical trailer! (From HD source)

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sourced by Jordan Yerman

In 1954's classic horror movie, Gojira, the atomic age of
mass destruction spawns the monstrous reptile Godzilla, a prehistoric
creature rising from the depths of the Pacific Ocean to wreak havoc on
Tokyo. As city buildings crumble to dust and thousands of people die, a
humbled military fights back in a futile attempt to stop the
destruction. A renegade scientist is finally convinced to use his
weapon of mass destruction to destroy Godzilla, but he takes his own
life to make sure the weapon will never be used again.

Now comes Cloverfield, a new generation horror movie, more
suited to our age of unreason, in which a monstrous creature of unknown
origin comes from the depths of the Hudson River to destroy New York
City. With no conclaves of nodding scientists struggling to understand
why and no military strategy sessions to explore best options for
defense, it's not clear where it comes from or why it's destroying
everything in sight; but its sudden appearance leaves no time for
thinking or planning or making sense of it all. As Manhattan crumbles
into dust and people die, a desperate and  equally ineffective military
fights against it, and the many smaller--but hungry--multi-legged
beasties tagging along for the ride.

This isn't the first time New York City's been laid waste by a giant monster that comes out of the harbor. In 1953's The Beast from 20,000 Fathoms,
another prehistoric reptile, also awakened by nuclear radiation, stomps
and chomps down on Coney Island until a radioactive isotope, shot from
the high-point of the Cyclone roller-coaster into the creature's
bazooka-induced neck wound, stops it cold; but not before a virulent
germ, spread by the blood oozing from that neck wound, takes it's
devastating toll on the population. The Manhattanites in Cloverfield don't fair much better, either.

What's
different here is we finally get to see the carnage from the civilian
perspective--at ground level--when a going-away party turns into a
nightmare without end for five twentysomething friends. There is no
renegade scientist to save the day, no atomic age rationale to explain
it; just a bunch of people trying to stay alive under extraordinary
circumstances.

Keeping us shoulder-to-shoulder with them, director Matt Reeves uses
a shaky, camcorder view and imagery that recalls the real horror of
911. Make sure you sit toward the back of the theater,
otherwise you may find yourself barfing from all the shakiness. You
don't want to do that with this film: it's too good to miss.

Begun as a send-off party keep-sake for Rob, who's leaving for
Japan, the recording becomes a morbid testament of the carnage, shot by
his friend Hud, when all hell breaks loose. We follow Rob and the
others up to the rooftop to see what's going on, then hastily run down
the stairs and onto the street. When the Statue of Liberty's head comes
crashing down, confusion and fear kick in and it's time for action.
Filmed in this way, the rough handling and sudden gaps in view as Hud
handles the camcorder create realistic, nerve-wracking tension, and a
damn-it-Hud-show-us-more response; exactly what you would expect from
someone holding a camcorder during an unreasonable situation, while
responding to events unfolding in rapid succession and trying not to
trip over his own feet at the same time. Cloverfield uses
you-are-there shaky cam successfully and skillfully as a necessary part
of the storytelling. Given the twentysomething generation's need to be
constantly connected socially, while sharing every storm and longing,
it's not much of a stretch to believe Hud would hold onto it through
thick and thin. YouTube and CNN love stuff like that, anyway. I only
wish I knew the brand name of that camcorder; the battery life on that
baby is amazing.

What's also amazing are the scenes of destruction. Even the
opportunists raiding a local electronics store stop to listen to the
news broadcasts of the disaster. While the man-in-suit Godzilla and Ray Harryhausen
Beast were artistic and state of the art for the 1950s, today's
reality-savvy audiences require more personal realism than miniatures
and stop motion animation can deliver. Seen through the eye of the
camcorder, the mix of art direction, creature-glimpses, and acting stay
believable within its view. Highlights include Rob turning on the
camcorder's night vision in the subway tunnel to see what's spooking
the rats--should have done that sooner--and Hud's close-encounter of
the monster kind, giving us a long, hard look at the skyscraper-sized
creature's face: classic terror elements jazzed up for the digital age.
Scripter Drew Goddard knows his horror: the Brooklyn Bridge encounter,
reminiscent of a similar monster-whump! in It Came From Beneath the Sea, is quite a terrifying jolt.

While Cloverfield is classic horror at heart, it's also a
love story. After Rob has a blow-out with his girlfriend at the party,
when she calls his cell phone, hurt and pleading for help, he's off and
running to save her--even if it's right into the path of the creature
and it's buddies. His friends stay with him. Reaching the building
where Beth lives, Hud's "don't tell me that's where she lives!" line
sums it up best when they see it's held up only by the building next to it.

For all its new age generation look and feel, Cloverfield relies on good old-fashioned horror themes to deliver the shocks. That makes it a pretty scary film, indeed.