Cloverfield vs Series 7

I was told—online and in the real world—that I would enjoy Cloverfield more if I entered the theater with zero expectations. How do I do this, exactly? Normally, I attend movies with elevated expectations, and take it personally when I’m disappointed in the results. Have I been wrong all this time? So, right before Cloverfield, I did my best to clear my mind. (And for those of you wondering: two. It takes two beers to clear my mind.)

My findings: Cloverfield is a bit like Alien, if Alien were out on the street, and a documentary. It’s a bit like Godzilla, if no one ever said the name of the monster, and it was filmed by your nephew with a Fisher Price My First Video Camera. It’s a bit like Blair Witch, in better clothes. And it’s a bit, uh, you know…Nine-elevenish. With popcorn!

Yeah, about that, just so you know: In Cloverfield, Manhattan buildings drop, lean against each other, and explode, while citizens rush down the street covered in ash and dust. There was a time, not so long ago, when a movie like Cloverfield would have been delayed indefinitely (remember that even Spider-man had to be edited to spare our feelings), but that time is gone.

We start at a going-away party for Rob, who is moving to Japan (dude, no! They have monsters there, roaming the streets and knocking down buildings! Stay in New York where it’s safe.). Rob’s brother is Jason, who is identical to Rob, and they each have girlfriends who are blandly pretty in almost the exact same way (one of them seems to regard Rob and Jason as if they were the same character played by two different actors, and for the life of me, I couldn’t figure out who was playing who, who was dating who, and whose name was what until they started dying and saying things like “Dude, I’m sorry about your brother”.) One guy, Hud, who barely appears on camera and sounds like Jason Lee, is filming testimonials and goodbyes on a video camera, and for the next seventy-five minutes or so, is our only viewpoint into the world of Cloverfield. Something shakes the building, something blows up, the lights flicker, and before you know it, everyone’s out on the street, taking pictures of the Statue of Liberty’s head with their cell phones. They should be running instead.

Once our heroes are out on the street, Cloverfield picks up steam, and actually becomes what those of us with expectations were expecting. It’s exciting and confusing. Ever ran while filming? That’s what it looks like. The point-of-view is all handheld and shaky. Those of you with vertigo might want to take a Dramamine before the show. Because this is essentially a horror film, the ranks are thinned some, and four of the principal characters head down into the subway, hoping to make it all the way back uptown (the bridge is out) to rescue someone from an apartment. The subway stops and tunnels are empty, even though they were surely full earlier when the attack took place, right? But the characters of Cloverfield simply jump down into the tunnels and set off walking, never meeting anyone else except dozens of rats, all running in the same direction. A tip: if rats are running from something, you better too. There’s not much explanation for what’s in the tunnels, or how they got there, or how many of them there are, but that’s one of the scariest parts of Cloverfield. No one has time to check in with the news, or the military, or a local conspiracy theorist (I would like to take this time to thank the makers of Cloverfield for not including a stereotypical computer geek/conspiracy guy. We got enough of that last year from Transformers and Live Free or Die Hard). They’re too busy running from a huge scary monster and what appears to be its crabs. Yes, readers, the monster in Cloverfield has an STD, and it’s rampaging through the city, spreading it to a host of apathetic twentysomethings, the kind of people who stop and take pictures with their cell phones when they should be running from Godzilla.

The monster. We only see glimpses of it at first, a tail here, an arm there. It’s scarier and more consistent in those moments. When we don’t quite know what it could be, it could be anything. Once we see the monster, it’s still scary, with its square-set system of legs, tyrannosaurus rex arms and Rancor face, but the mystery is gone. Most of the people running from the creature never get to see it, and maybe we shouldn’t either. The monster has a convenient movie power of changing size whenever it needs to. It’s small enough to wind down city streets, picking off humans, but also big enough to topple skyscrapers and slap helicopters from the sky.

Cloverfield, I suppose, is the brainchild of J.J. Abrams. He didn’t direct the movie, though, or write its screenplay, and Keri Russell is nowhere to be seen, so I’m not sure how much credit he deserves. Cloverfield feels of-the-moment, with its short attention span, dependence on cheap technology and characters who never truly want to be off camera. It’s a statement on yuppie culture, materialism, the media, violence and movies themselves. Remember when we were saying the same thing about The Blair Witch Project? Yeah, me either.I keep hearing how revolutionary Cloverfield is, but movies have been doing this sort of thing for…movies have always done this, right?

I wouldn’t make you watch Blair Witch again for anything. I like you guys too much. It’s a good, creepy movie, the first time you see it. If anyone out there has seen it twice, let me know what the next time is like. Instead, I think you should have two more beers, pull the shades, and watch one of the weirdest, most effed-up movies of the past decade: Series 7: the Contenders.

Series 7: the Contenders showcases a fake reality show, in which the contestants must hunt and kill each other. You’ll recognize the format right away, not from your home movies, or from other movies, but from the tacky, manipulative, degrading reality competition shows currently dominating the television schedule. Series 7 is a couple years old; when I first saw it, I thought it wouldn’t age well, and as the reality trend faded away, so would the relevance of a movie spoofing it. Do I need to tell you that last week I watched The Amazing Race, American Idol, and Bret Michaels Rock of Love? And that, all told, I only watched like two more hours of TV, period? So, Series 7 is not just really close to how we’re living right now, it’s also pretty close to how I imagine we’ll be living five years from now. Will contestants on reality shows be gunning each other down anytime soon? Probably not. But maybe that’s just because no one’s thought to ask them yet. Series 7 is flawed in much the same way Cloverfield is: once you’ve grasped the concept, you really just need to know how it ends. The format and methods are kind of the point of both movies, without many characters to truly believe in. Like Cloverfield, Series 7 wisely contains a virtually unknown cast. Unlike Cloverfield, though, Series 7 has a ringer: Brooke Smith. You’ll likely recognize Smith as the girl in the pit from Silence of the Lambs, and maybe from her supporting turn on Weeds. And of course, Series 7 didn’t make her a star either. The movie, and Smith’s performance, is way too aggressive, off-putting and confrontational for that. Smith’s character, Dawn, is hugely pregnant, hugely angry, and packing heat. She’s the current champ, and you’re likely to be repulsed by her attitude, appearance and actions. Smith is so interesting and sickly funny though, you won’t be able to look away.

Series 7 was directed by Daniel Minihan, who has moved on to directing dramas for HBO (Six Feet Under, Deadwood and Big Love are among his credits). He’s carving out a niche for himself in a great medium. But, maybe if he got some of those J.J. Abrams dollars, we’d see what else he could do on the big screen.

Cloverfield: B-

Series 7: The Contenders: B