my review of Cloverfield
January 16th, 2008 by talMy family moved to the United States in 1987. That was two years before Six Flags Great Adventure’s "The Great American Scream Machine" rollercoaster was opened to the public in Jackson Township, New Jersey. As a precocious youth of eleven years living in the epitome of suburbia that was (is) Long Island, New York I never expected 1988 to be the year I would first be exposed to viral marketing. Six Flags would constantly barrage us with information about the construction of what would be the most amazing roller coaster ever. Aside from horror movies, skating rink nights, and booklets about the histories of roller coasters (along with how much faster and more awesome the GASM would be compared to any of its predecessors), they actually sponsored a field trip! In seventh grade I, along with every kid in the Oceanside Middle School, would be whisked away by a school bus on a school day to go nuts at Six Flags Great America for a day of fun and frolics with the construction of the GASM right in the center of the park. While we may have been having a good old time on the pirate ship or the flying chairs, we dreamed of riding the huge behemoth of red steel towering above us. I spent an entire year waiting for that roller coaster to open. An entire year of the GASM being the cornerstone of any worthwhile social conversation.
And then it happened. The ride opened. I had spent nearly two months ensuring that my parents’ calendars were synchronized with my very urgent need to be in Jackson Township, New Jersey on the opening weekend of Six Flags Great Adventure in 1989. We got there nice and early. But not early enough. The line was four hours long. FOUR HOURS. I know that may seem long now, but to a 12 year old kid that’s pretty much an eternity. The line was so long that my mom was able to take my sister through nearly every child ride in the entire park by the time my dad and I were at the front of the line. But nevermind, I was well behaved. Those four hours were spent in dreams and fantasies of being whisked away by this giant metal goddess into a serene state of so-scared-I’m-gonna-poop-my-pants-ness.
Two minutes and twenty seconds later it was all over. Worth every second spent in that line, if you ask me.
Such was my anticipation for the film Cloverfield. From the inception of that first tantalizing trailer in the Transformers preview reel I began to seek out information related to the mysterious 1-18-08 project (Cloverfield’s nondescript teaser site at 1-18-08.com was the first I discovered). Since then it was nothing but tasty but dangerous Slusho, the clandestine Tagruato corporation, and the rebellious T.I.D.O. wave. In fact, the viral universe (including myspace pages for the characters in the movie whom interact with each other and refer to events both real and fictional which are referenced in the movie) the marketing team has created a story more compelling than that of the movie itself. Don’t take that as a jab at the movie, I’ll get to the film review soon enough but let’s just say that me telling you I loved it would be the understatement of the year (albeit the year is still very much in its infancy). Perhaps they are laying the groundwork for sequels, the world they’ve created is so fascinating and open ended and it definitely takes cues from Lost, with the mysterious dude in charge of the secretive organization that may or may not be behind the wheel and the rebels who rise up against it all, possibly to their own detriment. But none of that is mentioned in the movie.
Cloverfield is a love story between two ordinary people, one that happens to take place while a monster is destroying everything on the set. The reason the plot is so compelling is because we’ve all wondered what all those people running from the monster in the Godzilla movie were up to. We usually only see things from the perspective of the military or the scientists who are trying to stop the monster or from the perspective of the monster itself, not those poor people running around scared shitless in Neo Tokyo. To put it simply: Cloverfield is to Godzilla what Rosencrantz and Guildenstern Are Dead is to Hamlet, a story focused on those previously insignificant cast members of the play. It reminds me of a conversation between Randall and Dante in Kevin Smith’s Clerks about the innocent carpenters who were working on the Death Star when it was blown up in Return of The Jedi. Not everybody can be Darth Vader or Luke Skywalker, but does that mean that their story is any less interesting?
On to the movie itself. So yeah, the monster is awesome. It’s so frickin awesome that I don’t care if the CGI is obvious in some footage, it’s still scary as shit. And the hand-held camera thing works for me as well. Not that I’m incredibly patriotic, but it’s nice to finally have a great American monster movie, one that stands on its own and I’m sure even the most steadfast Godzilla fans will enjoy. Of course it was convenient that the monster was wherever the characters happened to be, but sometimes you just get days when trouble follows you wherever you go. Besides, it’s a monster movie – if you want a believable fictional narrative go see The Bucket List. From the moment Clover (the studio’s nickname for the monster) rises from the sea, the movie is in non-stop high gear, equal parts fear, suspense, laughter, anxiety, and drama. Which brings me back to The Great American Scream Machine: I really haven’t had this much fun being in a seat since then. I may not have stood in line for four hours, but I would have! This movie really is more of a ride than a film, there were times I really could have used a seatbelt. Cloverfield is my new Great American Scream Machine.
