MONSTER!!! The CLOVERFIELD review

There's a moment towards the end of the highly guarded, hotly anticipated monster film CLOVERFIELD where the characters have to navigate the steep incline of a building that has fallen against another. They carefully make their way up the hallway, and we're right there with them, climbing at a funhouse-grade angle straight out of the F.W. Murneau school of design. Out of all of the scenes of chaos - buildings collapsing, the cryptic glimpses of the giant appendages responsible, and severely disorienting whip-pan POV shots (that may cause some to experience motion sickness) - this is the moment that made me sit up, and get really, really, nervous, even though the previous hour had pretty much put my Sprite-filled bladder on red alert...

So welcome to the funhouse. NYC is once again imperiled by the hands (Talons? Claws?) of a giant monster, but unlike the pathos of the lonely, kidnapped and exploited KING KONG, or the abomination that was GODZILLA '98, which featured a pussy of a giant monster not even within an inch of being worthy of its moniker, which also possessed the inexplicable ability to hide(!!!) in the bowels of the city, CLOVERFIELD'S monster is just plain pissed-off. It's born for destruction and nothing more, and it's not afraid to let you know about its bad millennia. It's as if one of Lovecraft's "old ones" has awakened from eons of slumber in order to reclaim its throne as ruler of this ancient rock, and all the noises, lights, and gobs of people really, really, annoy it. Yes, I realize that the destruction of NYC in a post-9/11 world will conjure up parallels to the indelible images of that horrible day, but please, it's a giant sea monster. The original GODZILLA, or GOJIRA capitalized on the fears of post-Hiroshima Japan in the same way. If you want to read too much into it, CLOVERFIELD could be the son of that film, but hatched in the age of global technoinfologicalrapidity** and terrorism. However, I would seriously try not to read too much into it, as it really is a fun movie, and you should just leave your NPR/CNN/Fox News-riddled brain at the door. Should you find yourself enjoying it, and later musing about it at a bar, and some douchebag blowhard tries to shoot you down for doing so with a 9/11-guilt diatribe, please throw your drink in their face, and tell them Jeff sent you.

I won't even bother going into much detail concerning the plight of the hu-mons, because quite frankly, I didn't like any of them. The "Law and Order"-extras-school-of-acting level of "acting" may detach some viewers from caring, but again, this isn't about the humans. This is about Murray Cloverfield, demon from the deep. So, there's a party, and this guy Rob is going to Japan. They drink. They listen to cool music like Gorillaz, and Kings of Leon (they even play that goddamn Sean Kingston song, "Beautiful Girl", which made me want the monster to just erupt from the ground right then and there and slaughter them all, and then spend the remainder of the film trying to find Sean Kingston, eventually eating him too, but not before a hearty face-fucking). Then the explosion that everyone has seen occurs and they all scatter. Long story short, they have to get across the city in order to rescue one of their own, driven by a romantic subplot straight out of "Felicity" (which is no coincidence considering the team of producer Abrams, director Reeves, and screenwriter Goddard) all the while avoiding meeting their fates in the most hilarious way possible (IMHO): A giant. Fucking. Monster. The actors do a credible job of acting scared, and looking like they just got back from Grey Goose night at Le Doux, but covered in ash (I think they cover you in semen at LeDoux). They're just simple, vacuous "dude-brah" dudes, and "OMG!" chicks who are munch/stomp fodder for the beast, or the nightmare-inducing parasitic sea-lice that fall from it (shudder).

It goes without saying that the father, or grandfather (film ages in dog-years these days) of CLOVERFIELD is THE BLAIR WITCH PROJECT, which back in 1998 grifted film proprietors, and later some patrons who existed in a world not quite inundated with internet and reality programming into falling for a hoax-like campaign that presented itself as "found", and "real". CLOVERFIELD was too huge of a concept to ever try to come across as "real", but like BLAIR WITCH, the genius of team Abrams lies within two things: marketing, and secrecy. The fanboy speculation as to what 01-18-08 actually was begat more theories than Jimmy Hoffa's disappearance, which ranged anywhere from a verite-style GODZILLA redo (my initial guess), to a Voltron movie* (WTF? I'm still trying to wrap my head around that one.). Whereas BLAIR WITCH was made on a shoestring in the woods to create a feeling of complete terror, CLOVERFIELD ups the ante by ratcheting up the dread-factor. "Dread" is the best way to describe my personal experience. The thunder of its gait. The intermittent fury of its wrath. The guarded glimpses of its physique. I thought the theater was going to be crushed. If a suspense film can truly make me fear for my own safety, then mission accomplished.

Three out of four. See it on the screen. I think the jolt will be severely diminished at home.






*Which would be the next logical step, because Voltron is the only thing that could even come close to killing this raging motherfucker. Perhaps in the sequel? Hmmmm...

** Copyright, 2008.