? So I was expecting The Blair Witch Project Meets Godzilla vs. Mothra with a fairly decent (read: lousy) “undead slasher chases teens in their underwear” flick thrown in for good measure. Another way of saying, something not so good.
? But Cloverfield wasn’t half bad. It was sufficiently gripping with a minimum of kitsch (although the impaled girlfriend crooning, “You came back for me,” almost made me spit out a Goober). And the occasional goofy-funny line hinting at a certain ironic distance was much appreciated. (Thank you, Seinfeld generation!)
? Yeah, yeah, I know: The Japanese monster movies of old were Hiroshima/Nagasaki effluvia, and so Cloverfield should be read as some kind of coded blowback from 9/11. (That Fido, or whatever the alien is called, starts his romp in Lower Manhattan is certainly no accident.)
? Is it just me or have they run out of ways to render space aliens? They all look like lizard people (or my seventh-grade science teacher), with crustacean spawns tossed about like so much parmigiana. Where is the imagination in that? I have been skteching a completely original monster, one that is in no respect anthropoid or recognizable from a seafood menu: It consists of a giant bag of No. 34 De Cecco Fussili semolina pasta balanced precariously on a triangular wedge of imported provolone and trailing a Wang Freestyle laptop with radioactive stylus.
? Now that’s scary.
? Favorite line in the movie: “The air caught on fire! There’s not gonna be a lull!”
? Favorite moment: The driverless hansom cab clip-clopping down—is it Broadway? Central Park West?
? Anyone catch the May 22 doomsday date? Just happens to be the day Spielberg and Lucas like to debut their new blockbusters. (As I was leaving my local googleplex, I saw a poster for the upcoming Indiana Jones IV: The Case of the Quartz-Crystal Timex , or whatever the heck it is. Opens . . . May 22.)
? File this under Suspension of Disbelief Alert : Lily walking a good three, three and a half miles through the No. 6 subway tunnel, from Spring Street to Bloomies, in three-inch heels—this after a rather heart-thumping run for your life that included barely surviving the collapse of the Brooklyn Bridge. Space aliens invade Manhattan—no problem. (I lived through the Koch/Dinkins years.) But I’m sorry . . . lose the pumps.
? By the way, if you were wondering what “Cloverfield” stands for (by way of IMDB.com):
The title “Cloverfield,” initially just a codename for the movie, is named for the boulevard in Santa Monica where the Bad Robot offices were located during the making of the film.
? What lessons can we take away from Cloverfield , boys and girls?
1. Ask Jesus to forgive you your sins before the space alien lands.
2. Spend as much quality time with your loved ones as you can (and seriously reconsider the one-night stands—you’re only going to have to go back for her in the end).
3. DON’T GO BACK FOR THE CAMERA, MORON.
4. Find out the brand name of the digital handheld the moron did go back for. Talk about takes a licking and keeps on ticking . . .
Note to RJN: We should check out whether there really is a Hammer Down Protocol. If so, we may want to consider moving the offices to Staten Island. No one will find us there . . .
