Cloverfield and the "Real"

Where to Start

The movie does an exceptional job delivering the story from an authentic source – a handheld video. The initially unwilling Hud grows to love the camera and it allows him to get closer to his crush, Marlena. When he first films the monster on celluloid, a part of us understands the excitement of trying capture something "real" -- like proof of a miracle. It is something that cuts through the superficiality of life. We are at first only given jerky glimpses of the monstrosity, much like the distorted naked body parts in some pornography. We are rewarded with the “real” in the final minutes. The up-close in-your-face shot of the monster gives us the intense detail we craved, a full body shot of the beast, and even an indication of some intelligence.

Cloverfield wants to give you the real. What do I mean by Real? Think of pornography. There is Playboy and then there are extreme sex magazines far south of Hustler. The primordial excitement that a nude picture evokes is “real.” However, we must compare it to the unreal for it to make sense. Bo Derek’s nude body in Playboy was somewhere between risqué and naughty, but hardcore porn (at some point) is appalling to our morality -- with a few unfortunate exceptions. There is a point where seeing a photograph or video of a sexual organ from the most unimaginable angles and magnification reaches a point of being... unreal. Our senses are turned upside down and the thrill turns to disgust. The essence of a sense-arousing nude body disappears into the separate universe of a sexual body part. The "real" is lost.

So what does this have to do with a monster in Manhattan? Cloverfield wants to give you the "real." The "real" is also like an "a-ha" or "eureka" moment, like when a sublime sunrise punctures your very being. The moment overwhelms your senses and stays until a thought like "what a beautiful sunrise" emerges. Then poof, the words have killed the enlightened moment. The "real" is like seeing something with new and fresh eyes… or a monster in Manhattan.

The “Real” and the Monster

We feel every bit of excitement with each increasingly clearer shot of the monster. Photographing the “real” for Hud seems to be in close competition with his survival instinct. Is this portrayal of these dueling interests valid or moviemaking fantasy? Certainly there were pictures of the horror on 911 from New Yorkers with cameras and phones, but they usually didn't come from people running back into the danger. Remember, Hud is going back with his three companions into the new home of the monster, baby monsters are chasing them in a dark subway, and he somehow retains a fairly coherent commentary.

Everyday life can seem unreal. Like the hollow greetings of “how are you doing,” which usually are a chore and not a real instrument for connection. Maybe movies are desperately trying to convey two forces, either the “real” or a contortion of the “real” in a grotesque, unreal, but new form. But can the movies ever succeed at this? Like many sci-fi movies (and especially ones in Manhattan – ie. I Am Legend), the story is about 911. Even when the planes hit the WTC buildings, we wanted to watch it again and again. But what did most people say? ‘It was like watching a movie.’ If that wasn’t the “real,” what is?

Rob and the “Real”

Overall, the human drama becomes loses its sense of authenticity as the movie progresses, especially the incongruent humor and Hud’s loquaciousness. The monster is not the only "real" thing in the movie though. After watching their best friends and thousands of civilians die, the mind-numbing experience breaks from the spectator quality to give you something else "real." What works really well is the moment when death becomes intensely personal. I am referring to when Rob is hit with the full scale of his brother Jason's death - the numbness is on target. Rob telling his mother about Jason’s death plays with the “real” very successfully.

Rob and the “real” also tango when we are forced to consider whether we would take the risks Rob does to be with Beth. This irrational act works because of the character development, and the revelation by his now dead brother that he hadn’t lived in the moment. The idea that it takes a winged monster, who bowls Liberty’s head down a Manhattan street, is analogous to how much it takes for people to wake up to what’s “real” right under their noses. We all see it through camera lens in his body movement, words, and actions, as do most of the partygoers.

Their narrow escapes from death brought them together, but perhaps it also makes them feel slightly immune to the danger – with the video acting subconsciously as their key to immortality. I found myself convinced that I might do the same things as Rob. I was not however convinced of the other three following along on the life-threatening venture. Yet, the act is not entirely implausible. We all remember the firefighters on 911 entering the doomed buildings in a totally selfless way. But between the spawning of baby monsters and the seemingly omnipresent big mama omnivore’s great speed and agility, forget it! In the heat of the moment, firefighters amazingly went into the second tower with little odds of survival, but bringing friends along is a totally different animal.

Any thoughts?

(Part 1 of 3)