Wednesday, January 16, 2008

Buy the ticket, take the ride...



Review: Cloverfield

I’d wager that most people have been to an amusement park at some point in their lives. My family was particularly into Disneyland (probably because we’re from suburbia). Now, when you think about it, Disneyland is actually more of a THEME park than an amusement park. There’s a difference between the two. What is that difference? A thin layer of exposition.
You see, when you take a ride at an amusement park, there really isn’t a whole lot of ceremony involved. There are a ton of roller coasters at Six Flags. Riding one of those is basically like picking up a prostitute: You both know what you’re there for, so let’s just get to it.
A theme park is something else though…at a theme park, most of the rides you get on are story based. What I mean is that sure, you still get on the ride, but not before being subjected to some thin layer of exposition as to WHY you’re getting on the ride. For example: in Disneyland’s “California Adventure” theme park, they have a ride dedicated to the Twilight Zone – the Tower of Terror. They strap you into a metal box, shoot you up into the air and then drop you back down. Lots of theme parks have this ride – in fact, the Tower of Terror is pretty tame in comparison to the versions other parks have. What separates it is this narrative you’re forced to listen to before you board the ride. Rod Serling comes out and does his little spiel from the show, telling you that the Tower was once home to famous celebrities but that something bad happened. The narrative continues as you board the ride, ending with him saying something like, “tonight, you, the audience, are part of the show…”

And then they drop you a few stories and you feel like you’re going to die.

That’s Cloverfield in a nutshell.

Now I’m not knocking the film, because I liked it quite a bit. I like going on rides at Disneyland too, but that doesn’t change the fact that the thin narrative before every ride is just a device meant to keep you and your group waiting while the ride cycles through the previous group.
What is the film about? Well, it centers around Rob and Beth, two friends living in Manhattan with a serious crush on one another. At the onset, Rob and Beth have sex, causing a whole bunch of awkwardness when Rob states that he’s heading off to Japan for some major promotion. Beth wants Rob to stay in New York, and Rob has no idea how to express his feelings for Beth. So he basically tells her to get lost at his own going away party.
After that, all hell breaks loose. Manhattan is being attacked. The military sweeps in urging everyone to evacuate. And it is in the midst of this evacuation that Rob gets a frantic call: Beth is trapped in her apartment and she can’t get out. So Rob decides to turn around and head back into the city in an attempt to undo the damage he has wrought on the girl he loves.
It’s funny too, because Rob and his friends are basically you and your friends. I feel that if the film succeeds on any level beyond the sheer thrill of its premise, it will be because these characters are just archetypes lifted from the myspace generation. They’re not particularly clever characters, but they are true to some extent.
I do have a large gripe with Rob though: Rob’s the world’s greatest bad decision maker. I once wrote a film along the lines of something like that, but I never intended people to like my character. The filmmakers WANT you to like Rob. They want him to really click with the audience – and he doesn’t. He’s a real bastard – the film even says so itself at one point. He’s resourceful and determined, but beyond that, not very likable…He’s just some self-serving jerk who decides, “hey, what the hell, I’d like to sleep with this girl again, so I’m gonna go back and get her.” You can get away with a real jerk of a character in your film, believe it or not. But the character has to be really freaking good at what he does. Rob isn’t…he’s just that guy in your group every Friday night who heckles prog-rock. I think part of suspension of disbelief allows us to have moments in films where characters do incredibly stupid things that pay off in unreal ways. The characters themselves literally state, “there’s no way in hell this is going to work, but here goes…” and then it does work. And yeah, you’re crying out “no way”, but you’re also with the character because they can’t believe it either. Rob’s just like that, minus the “it works” part.
Beth also isn’t terribly likable. There’s a girl like her in every group too: the pretty girl who contributes nothing. Her and your other friend have this “thing”, and he’s totally into her because she’s waaaaaaay out of his league and he’s pretty sure he can’t get anything better than that… I mean, why do we even let Beth hang out in this group? She doesn’t bring anything to the table – PLUS, we’re sick of all the drama she drags along.

Okay, sorry…got caught up in the film’s style for a moment there.

One of the better aspects to this film is its commentary on “the group” and on my totally useless generation. At Rob’s party, everyone’s buzzing about the weird relationship between Rob and Beth. They’re also doing shots of jagermeister and listening to Spoon, effectively doing nothing but idly gossiping about one another’s lives. There are a few stark moments in particular when the city is first attacked that basically sums up this youtube/text message culture in all its bloated self-interest. It’s hilariously human. Spielberg would be proud.

All 80 minutes of the film are a great way to spend your evening. It’s a real trip from beginning to end and it isn’t terribly consuming, so count me a fan. But still, like most rides, you can’t help but walk away saying, “huh – I’m not sure if I’d get back in line for that again.” Therein lies the difference between the greats like Spielberg and the new kids like Abrams. Spielberg never told you he was taking you on a ride. He never told you his characters were just like you and your friends. Goddard? Abrams? Reeves? They’re right there, telling you the entire way.