“Cloverfield” has, from the start, accomplished its goal. From the moment the first trailer unofficially hit the Internet, everyone from fanboys of the film’s producer J.J. Abrams to the curious Internet surfers were hooked to a film they didn’t even know the name of yet.
Then came the actual viral marketing: the endless Web sites that provided little bits of information; the video news reports from around the world of a drilling rig off the coast of New York that had been destroyed; the MySpace pages for the characters, which, through profile comments, showed dialogue prior to the film’s story; and on and on.
And the marketing has only continued since the release of the film as more images and tidbits have been added to these various Web sites. But the viral marketing served a greater purpose – even greater than telling the rest of the film’s story. The online campaign served as an experience by itself that, when combined with the film, became all too real and actually like a mirror for the audience.
Even I can admit that I fell into the whirlwind of hype, mystery and excitement. And after experiencing it all, I can gladly say I’ve been awakened, refreshed and given a new perspective.
For months I was hooked to every clue and every rumored plotline I could learn. But why? Why do we try to spoil the fun with entertainment today? Ever since “Survivor” started, this has been the case. We simply can’t wait to know who will be kicked off and will hunt down the results online before the show even airs.
In the case of “Cloverfield,” I had to know more about the plot, not just to satiate my enormous curiosity but also to release a sense of fear, to know that none of it was real and to be reassured it was all just movie.
And essentially it is just a movie, even though it’s better classified as something entirely different. It has a story about a group of friends who host a going-away party for their friend Rob. The party is interrupted by a monster the size of a skyscraper that emerges from the ocean and wreaks havoc on Manhattan as Rob’s friends start to disappear faster than you can imagine. What this ultimately does, however, is makes the core character development nonexistent in the film but rather floating about in cyberspace on MySpace pages and fake Web sites.
The film itself then is a retelling of Rob and company’s attempt to escape the city as seen through their perspective, literally.
Shown through the supposed lens of a hand-held camcorder from the party, “Cloverfield” displays all of the carnage and adrenaline-rushing excitement that had been built up for months. You’ll have to forget the fact that the camcorder is the world’s most indestructible camera, that the camera’s tape has infinite length, that batteries last all night and that filming it all is more important than life. You’ll also need to have the stomach of a sailor to make it through the beating you’ll get from having to watch it in first-person.
And much like the many “monster in a big city” films before it, images of people breaking into electronics stores and reporters being viciously mauled are all present in “Cloverfield.” But what’s new to the mix is what Abrams and director Matt Reeves were most interested in, which is the way people in 2008 react in situations of fear and mass panic: they document it and show it to the world in hope of securing a digital legacy.
As the Statue of Liberty’s head comes tumbling down the streets of Manhattan, people aren’t running in fear; instead, they’re whipping out their Nokias (apparently only Nokias exist in Manhattan) to take pictures, record video and know that they have something important to share with the world.
And why is it that we love to document our lives so much? Sure, mothers love to photograph every five minutes of their newborn baby’s life, but why do we believe that simply going out to dinner with friends is worthy of an album of 50 photos on Facebook? In the case of “Cloverfield,” why do we consider documenting more important than our own lives?
Just take a look at CNN’s iReports during big events such as mall or school shootings, and you’ll find plenty of cell phone videos – sometimes even of the shooters – when the film-takers should have been running for their lives.
So to truly enjoy “Cloverfield,” you have to look beyond the remarkable special effects and view it for what it is: a thrilling YouTube-ian account of fear. It’s Sept. 11 meets “Godzilla,” except filmed by the average Joe.
And it’s ultimately not so much a reflection of a culture but rather a byproduct. We all live in fear, whether it’s fear from terrorists, monsters, or confusing relationships, and we try to document all of it, knowing that it will one day be published online. That sense of securing our importance and popularity in society has only grown larger since the advent of YouTube. When those fears and technology combine, you get that which “Cloverfield” has conveyed so perfectly in the last several months.
And in the end, that is the bigger story; there is no government conspiracy, no epic tale of an alien monster. It’s simply a cathartic experience – one much like “United 93” – for Americans to face their big, bad, metaphorical monster and attempt to let go of their fears in a visceral thrill ride that sadly ends all too soon.
“Cloverfield” did what last summer’s HBO series “Voyeur Project” was unable to do: create a story that is spread out across the Internet and then comes together in one film to cast a mirror upon the audience.
While it’s easy to blow it off as overhyped nonsense with a brainless “story,” average acting and a camera that has a 75 percent chance of making you leave with a popcorn bag full of vomit, “Cloverfield” does have some redeeming qualities that, when looked at as a whole, from its start to now, are worthwhile and will certainly be memorable.