The sight of a party of deceptively successful Manhattan yuppies with little interesting to say to each other being unceremoniously interrupted by some unnamed horror sets things up nicely indeed. The sound of a menacing rumble and the sight of haphazard projectiles, screaming thousands running for their lives against the backdrop of a decapitated Statue of Liberty and, as they are being chased, the dust of collapsing buildings taps the audience’s hunger for visceral scares like no other recent film.
Cloverfield is clever and frightening and bears the golden touch of JJ Abrams, the creator of Lost. The man seems to sense on some analytical level what audiences eagerly respond to. The thing to admire is that Cloverfield is not only brilliantly indicative of Abrams’ said handy knack, but also demonstrates how to dominate the multiplex bill on the most modest of budgets. There are no star actors here, so the audience does not shed too many a tear when the characters fall victim to the genre requirements; indeed, the only one laying some claim to fame and recognition is Lizzy Caplan, and even that is because she bears a striking resemblance to Zooey Deschanel. The whole thing is shot and seen through the camcorder of one of the characters (TJ Miller) who, as it was noted rightfully by other reviewers, could not frame a shot if his life depended on it. This strategy of keeping most of the action off-screen keeps the special effects bill down, although it must be said that when needed the effects on display here are top-drawer. It also helps Abrams and director Matt Reeves observe the tried and tested postulate of screen fright: the horror is immeasurably stronger when the menace if, at all, is only seen in fleeting glimpses.
Which brings us to the source of the menace itself. The movie is at its best when it navigates the dark streets flooded by a panicking and injured multitude not knowing whether it is running from or to the frightful something that is out there. Then one of the characters exclaims “I saw it. It’s alive!” and we all but feel a mixture of relief and disappointment as we are settling down in familiar monster-movie territory. The approach of seeing the events through the shaky shooting skills of one of the protagonists relieves the story of the obligation to tell from where the monster comes, although characters speculate about the ocean depths or outer space. The creature also seems to boast a fierce and almost pathological hatred for all things human and when we eventually get a lingering shot, it is not a pretty sight.
The film has already been described on numerous occasions as Godzilla meets The Blair Witch Project and I made a conscious attempt to refrain from using the phrase until it dawned on me that the movie is exactly that. I would even presume that this is how Abrams pitched the project to Paramount, which now seems destined to be rewarded with a small box-office fortune for giving it the green light. Regardless of the fact whether this is true, Cloverfield is a good monster movie in a very clever package and despite its calculated origins (or maybe thanks to them) it works just fine.
