Movie review: Cloverfield

Like a lot of people, I've been obsessively following the new Bad Robot film, Cloverfield for the past 6 months.

I first saw the teaser in front of Transformers, went through the Ethan Haas puzzles, only to find out they had nothing to do with Cloverfield. As the movie has approached, there's been countless discussions at work about what rumors were true, what new clues had been discovered, and a lot of scepticism of whether this movie would live up to the hype.

This afternoon, I found out the answer.

For me, the answer was a resounding yes!

Is this a movie to "redefine" the genre' of giant monster movies? Not at all.

Because this isn't a "giant monster movie."

Yes, there is a large monster, yes it's trashing Manhattan. But that's merely the vehicle to set up the story.

First and foremost, this is a story about people and their reactions to disaster.

There are going to be a lot of comparisions to September 11, 2001 with this movie. I can't speak to the accuracy of the rolling wave of dust from collapsed buildings or the sheer confusion where communication is limited and what many people had was simply what they could see, none of it good. I can't speak to any of this because I was on the other side of the country on that day.

What I can speak to, is the reaction of Rob, the main character of the movie. And, in that respect, they got it right.

From my perspective, in everyone's life there is probably at least one person who has at one point or another, been the center of what is good and "right," with your life. You may not see them for a decade, or even talk to them during that stretch of time but, in the back of your mind they are always there, always important and when you do see them it's as if time has not passed and the level of comfort you've felt with them is rekindled.

I've been lucky that I have a few friends like that, one of whom lives in Manhattan and works for a company which had offices in the World Trade Center Towers. I didn't know where her office was located at the time, but after the towers fell that day, I sent a frantic email to her just needing to know she was ok. When I got the response she was fine, that her office was in a different part of New York City, the relief I felt can't be described.

But what if it had been different?

If this was one of those people in your life you would move heaven and earth to get to them to help.

And that's what this movie is really about.

This is the movie about people being people in the face of hell on earth trying to support each other while everything falls apart.

A lot has been made about the hand held camera work in this movie and I'm going to touch on it for two points.

The first is about the camerwork itself. I think it says alot about the director, Matt Reeves and the way he cut the movie. Yes, I understand they often did 50 or 60 takes to get a living feel for the camera work, but in terms of suspension of disbelief, I really felt like I was following a real person filming this, not a director who was only showing you what you needed to see to build suspense. The reactions felt right as the character of "Hud" is panning around wildly at times, especially in the beginning of the movie where the characters don't have a lot of focused direction and Hud is reacting to any and everything. Later, as we start moving toward getting to Beth, the person Rob needs to move heaven and earth to help, the camera is more focused and directed, until the next pitfall hits the group.

From a technical standpoint, I also thought the way Reeves handled the hand help camera viewpoint was exceptionally well done. He starts the movie with inexpert and deliberate over the top jerking of the camera before quickly moving to a more "sedate" version of the hand help camera view.

So, why did he do it?

Much the way you close your eyes for 10-20 seconds to adjust to the darkness, by going over the top initially and disorienting the movie goer, Reeves gives the viewers the equivelent of the 20 seconds of darkness. So, you start to adjust. And when all hell breaks loose and you are back to the original level of shakiness in the camera you've adjusted enough to not only not get sick, but to be able to follow along as if it's you behind the camera. And, as the movie builds to new levels, you are once again somewhat used to the shaking of the camera. And, as the movie reaches its climax you are fully immersed and can handle what's going on before you.

Now, is this to say that things are always shaky and in constant motion? Actually not. Though a good portion of the movie is spent in this mode, there are respites, well timed to allow you to catch your breath and take in what needs to be seen. Still, this is not a movie I would want to be idly flipping channels on a weekday evening and come across in the middle.

My second comment about the hand held camerawork comes in answer to a question that one of the group I saw the movie with had as we walked out of the movie. She mused that she probably would have put down the camera after an hour or so and wondered why the character of "Hud" didn't. The answer I now have for her, having thought about it for a few hours is as follows:

Drew Goddard did a fantastic job of writing this movie. Matt Reeves did a fantastic job of directing this movie. In the 50 to 60 takes that they did for most shots, the actors were probably directed to a certain extent to bring out their characters and find out what would fit best with them.

The character of Hud is the best friend of Rob. We are quickly shown he's insecure and it's implied he relies on Rob for a lot of his direction. As the movie progresses, it's Hud behind the camera who makes the wise cracks which are plainly a defense mechanism. But the wise cracks are really a secondary defense mechanism. His primary weapon against the horror around him is this camera. As long as he is filming and looking through the viewfinder, it's just a film. It's not actually happening to him or his friends because it's all on video. If he ever puts the camera down (which does happen several times) he actually has to confront what is going on around him and that is something he does not want to do.

So, on all those levels the movie succeeded brilliantly. You cared about these characters and as the group was whittled down, you felt their pain. The reactions of the camera and the actors were fantastic. I think Matt Reeves was dead on when he cast professional actors who weren't stars. You looked at them as if they were people not "that Hollywood star who's being badgered by paparazzi but I liked their last film so I'm going to see this one." It was because there weren't any preconceived notions that "oh that's Tom Hanks," but rather someone whos face and imdb.com resume didn't come to mind as soon as you saw them that allowed you to suspend disbelief and really experience this as it was meant to: an intimate perspective of a rather large catastrophe.

There's one moment that really brought it all into perspective for me. At one point during the film the characters have to choose to move from the subway tubes to the surface again (it's in a commercial so not much of a spoiler) however, when they go through the door to the "unknown," they find themselves in a familiar space. In this case, the comment was "Oh, it's 59th street." I don't know the New York subways at all. But, at one pointin time when I lived in the Bay Area, I could tell you what station along my BART line and throughout San Francisco we were at by just at a glance. That simple comment solidified the movie for me. These were people who have just discovered that they have emerged into a comfort zone by opening the mystery door. And that level of comfort in the "oh" spoke worlds about who these people are.

Now, having just blathered on about how this isn't a giant monster movie, I do need to discuss the "Big Bad."

The most cynical of the group I saw this with (you know the type; always griping, nothing is ever positive, on high blood pressure medication by 35,) said the creature was a complete Cthulhu rip off and not original at all. And he's right, but not in the way he meant.

I will be the first to admit, I like Lovecraft's writing, not for his meter or even the prose, but rather the obtuse descriptions (okay, so that's part of his prose) he comes up with. In that respect the giant monster in Cloverfield would be aptly described by Lovecraft because it's a downright horror show in and of itself. It's something out of several people's nightmares and you don't look at it an say "ooh, giant mutant iguana exposed to radiation over several generations and ever expanding."

This creature isn't easily described both because often what you see of it is constantly in motion and it's not standing still long enough for you to stop and say "hrm, they took the head of x, the legs of y, added in z with a little of w thrown in for good measure." When it does slow down enough, or the camera is at an angle to get a better view you take it in and your mind doesn't want to accept what you are seeing.

Another thing done execptionaly well was the lack of background music or score. There was nothing to distract you from the immersion experience. And immersion in sound it had. If there's any justice, this movie will win a technical oscar for sound because, despite the lack of the latest music video tie in song or "haunting score to enhance the mood," everything around you is a multi-layered auditory symphony in the movie. Even when the the characters are focused on something else, there's the background noise of a war being fought somewhere nearby: weapons are being discharged, the monster is roaring and things are getting blown up or flattened by the newest immigrant to come through Ellis Island. There are several moments in the film where the characters are inside buildings where all the alarms are going off. You know the type, the piercing beeps going off in concert with the flashing strobes. One type of director would have them going off, then slowly fade them down. Reeves didn't. They are as loud and obnoxious as they are in real life and they complete the scene.

So, having slobbered like a dog over a fresh bone, is the movie perfect? No.

Every time the camera is turned off and back on, we get a scene (this found media is a tape over from a defining moment in Rob and Beth's friendship,) from the previous recording and there were at least two scenes where I can think of where it broke up the flow of the movie.

Some of the setup of the movie I thought was a little forced. They introduced the main characters in a reasonable fashion, but there were a few moments that felt a little less than real.

However, once the movie gets moving it's mostly a non stop ride. When there finally is a break in the action, I found myself looking at the screen just listening to the rapid beating of my heart, taking in everything and wondering what the hell the movie had done to me.

So, does the movie meet the "was I entertained" criterion?

Let's put it this way. I had a gift certificate to the theater that's been sitting in my wallet for ten months. I used it on this movie because I didn't think it could live up to the hype. Now I wish I'd paid for the movie so I could use it on something else that might not be a good bet.