Strange Monster, or: how I learned to stop placating and defend "Cloverfield"

I am both surprised and mildly outraged over the amount of critical dissing that has been leveled at "Cloverfield," especially by those who generally liked the film. Most of these kinds of reviews spend some time lauding the film's technical wizardry- the integration of low-budget camcorder footage with expensive, convincing special effects- and then proceed to fault the film for a variety of imperfections in the rest of their column space, finally concluding that it is, overall, a mixed bag at best.

The grievances range from petty condemnations of the acting on behalf of a no-name cast to pointed but seemingly obvious comparisons between the movie and a "theme park-ride," (as if a movie about a giant monster attacking a major city was not supposed to have this element to it.) Rest assured, "Cloverfield," is certainly a hell-of-a-ride, nobody can deny that, with new terrors around ever corner and a predictably high bodycount, but it is also so much more.

It is not simply a vacuous, escapist adventure- nothing, mercifully, like the "Pirates of the Carribean," franchise or another obnoxious movie from a few years back, both of which are much more suited to the negative connotations of "theme-park ride." I can see where this idea comes from, though- as many of the scene transitions in "Cloverfield," seem too timed and rehearsed to gel with the idea of the film being a spontaneous first-person documentary- the most prominent example occurring when the protagonists emerge from a subway station underground and are commanded by the military to enter a makeshift hospital area. The camera pans around the room in a circle, catching close ups of battlefield surgeries and even a captive mini-monster struggling to escape, as if the world within the movie was just an elaborately choreographed pretense, a kind of "Truman-Show" reality of sets and cues...which of course, it is.

But I can't agree with all those who find these aspects of the movie too distracting to enjoy its' larger, overall theme and execution. Nor can I support the notion that the main characters are all unlikeable, selfish, spoiled brats. They sure have a yuppie element to them, and their concerns are mostly limited to each other's sexual relationships or lack thereof, but that's precisely the intent. "Cloverfield," begins like an episode of the "The Hills," (or it's more popular older sibling, "Laguna Beach,") and just when it approaches that point of cheap, shameless, interpersonal drama it veers off and becomes something else entirely.

What it becomes is actually quite breathtaking to consider... a film that, like "Easy Rider," or "The Graduate," defiantly represents the concerns, the preoccupations, of an entire generation. Maybe that's why some critics are so intent on finding fault with it, because they aren't in the right age-group. As a soon-to-be 21 year old attending college for Journalism, I personally loved everything about "Cloverfield." It isn't a movie- it's a cultural time-capsule, touching on so many current elements of our lives- from terrorism, to user generated media, to the value of love in a society that revels in emotionless hookups. Not only that, it combines all these elements with those of a traditional (otherwise overdone) supernatural yarn- the giant monster B-movie, simultaneously subverting it.

Fuck, in particular, those critics that bemoan "Cloverfield"'s destruction of New York City and the obvious parallels to the 9/11 terror attacks. Of course that's what the film is evoking, and to great effect, I might add. Why is "Cloverfield," blamed for depicting crumbling buildings in the same spectacular, morbidly fascinating fashion as the mainstream media covered 9/11? The cameraman is, like all those unsuspecting camera wielding people on the fateful day in September, just recording the shit going down in front of him. It's we the viewers that pay to see it. And indeed, for a while now, it will be difficult for ANY American who witnesses a building collapse, even a controlled demolition, to not associate the sight with the fall of the World Trade Center.

The allusions to terrorism don't end there- the monster itself, as lots have pointed out, isn't fully revealed until the final moments of the film. Like my favorite M. Night Shyamalan film, "Signs," this approach definitely works really well on a narrative level, heightening the tension and fear by forcing the audience to imagine for themselves how the adversary really looks. But I think there's more going on than that: The monster has many parts- or "cells," including "smaller" monsters, bugs the size of dogs, that hide in dark places and sound like sprinklers when they attack. The protagonists must navigate a ruined urban environment, fearful of unseen danger at every turn. The images of soldiers and high-powered weaponry combing through city streets are the most obvious, an inverted reflection of the American campaigns in Iraq and Afghanistan. But none of this is approached the wrong way- it's all a magnificent symphony of violence and destruction, never marred by cheap, unrealistic stunts or overdone special effects.

And that's precisely because our heroes aren't directly involved in what would be the main narrative thread in every other monster movie- i.e. finding a way to stop the creature. They don't receive any special information or powers, they never contact anyone else important (no scientists, no government agents) and spend the film either fleeing from the monster or trying to find away around it to get to their trapped friend. They are supposed to be us- the average, self-interested movie-going American public, consumed by an otherworldly situation that cannot be fully understood, let alone controlled. And yet we come to respect these characters and their struggle all the more for it. Sure, some of their motives and actions might seem like the common mistakes of B-movie prey to us sophisticates in the audience, but it is impossible not to connect with these characters on at least a raw physical level, as the audience was forced to connect with the soldiers in Ridley Scott's excellent "Black Hawk Down." Both movies work so well by relentlessly trapping the viewers in the same situation as the leads, and so, like it or not, you experience their micro-reality and nothing else.

I have no doubts that "Cloverfield" will eventually get its due as an important early 21st century work, criticism be damned, although this might take a few years of bad Januaries and copy-cat films. I would strongly encourage all those who have seen the film to go back and watch it again with some of my longwinded rant in mind, as I plan to do soon. Even if it is nothing more to you than a big monster B-movie, it still works really well on at least this level.

In Sum: Monstrously good fun. A Must-see.