Cloverfield

A group of friends struggles to escape Manhattan as a monster terrorizes the city.

Cloverfield’s biggest strength is in the originality of its approach, but the actual execution of that approach leaves much to be desired.

Director Matt Reeves leverages a hand-held camera gimmick throughout the film’s 85-minute running time. Far worse than the shaky cam favored by directors such as Paul Greengrass, Cloverfield’s camera careens up, down and sideways in a vertigo-inducing triumph of style over substance.

While it’s fine to use this gimmick as a method of intimating the audience with the story, once the actual story takes off, Reeves should have seamlessly transitioned to a smoother filming style. That’s not to say it can’t be first person, but camera work should rarely be noticeable, and should never force the audience to disengage to avoid losing their lunch.

Personally, the cinematography actually caused me to lose any emotional attachment to the character filming the action, as I found myself rooting for his death in the hopes that someone with steadier hands would pick up the camera.

Which leads us into Cloverfield’s other big problem; namely its characters. Without the monster attack, there’s no way any of them could sustain a film, and for a script that focuses entirely on the characters and their reactions, this is nearly fatal. The cast feels like the remnants of a failed ABC 20-something drama, and the opening fifteen minutes, which should have been a distraction from the upcoming disaster, instead serve as a trying exercise in patience. You simply don’t care about any of the people involved.