3.5 stars. Rated PG-13, for dramatic intensity, brief violence and fleeting profanity
By Derrick Bang • Originally published in The Davis Enterprise, 3.11.16
The original Cloverfield was a
cinematic stealth bomb that producer J.J. Abrams unleashed on an unsuspecting
public in January 2008.
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| When Howard (John Goodman, right) thinks that his younger companions are keeping secrets, his rage is palpable: something that Michelle (Mary Elizabeth Winstead) and Emmett (John Gallagher Jr.) already have discovered. Alas, the situation is about to get even worse ... thanks to the unveiling of a particularly nasty barrel. |
It remains one of the very few
truly satisfying “found footage” movies: significantly more rewarding than The
Blair Witch Project and dozens of even paler imitators. Abrams also quite
craftily kept it under wraps during production, resulting in an entertaining
surprise for those who love such things.
Flash-forward to the present day,
and Abrams has done it again. 10 Cloverfield Lane also was made under heavily
cloaked conditions, its title revealed only a few weeks back, when the initial
trailers landed in theaters. Fans obviously got the word; Wednesday evening’s
preview screening had a massive turn-away crowd.
This new film offers a similarly
tranquil prologue, an unsettling first act that builds to a suspenseful and
exciting climax, and then a bonkers, hell-for-leather “epilogue” that takes the
narrative into an entirely different direction. It’s fun, nervous-making and
suggestively grody (gotta love movies that let our imaginations concoct the
worst).
But it has very little to do with Cloverfield, and thus isn’t really a sequel ... although Abrams cheekily dubs
it a “blood relative” or “spiritual successor.” This one offers a new director
(Dan Trachtenberg) and three new writers (Josh Campbell, Matthew Stuecken and
Damien Chazelle), and they deliver what would have been dubbed a well-crafted
“B picture,” back in the day. (The original Invasion of the Body Snatchers is
a good example.)
Trachtenberg, Abrams & Co.
also have made impressive use of their quite modest budget; rarely will you see
money spent so well. I’m also reminded of 2012’s Cabin in the Woods: an
entirely different sort of film — gleefully deranged horror, for openers — albeit
with a similarly cunning and uneasily humorous approach.
Best of all, Trachtenberg’s film
is not a “found footage” project, and thank God for that: no shaky camera work
or incessant, awkward selfies. Cinematographer Jeff Cutter handles this like
any other mainstream suspense film.
We meet Michelle (Mary Elizabeth
Winstead), a wannabe fashion designer, during a montage that shows her in
crisis: packing hastily, fleeing her city apartment, leaving a ring behind,
jumping into her car and roaring away. She ignores a phone call from her
frantic husband, Ben (voiced by an unbilled Bradley Cooper).
The hovering atmosphere is just a
bit off: Radio reports discuss unusual rolling electrical blackouts; her
late-night fill-up at a rural gas station feels unusually, ominously quiet.
Then, catastrophe: an unexpected
road accident. When Michelle regains consciousness, she’s on a mattress,
chained to the cement wall of a fortified room. On the other hand, she also has
been treated medically, an injured leg braced, and an IV drip running into one
arm.
On the third hand, she also has
been undressed to her underwear.
Faint hints of the Saw series
might flicker into your mind at about this point, but rest easy; this isn’t
that sort of film. This one’s much better (and definitely not gratuitously
gory).
Michelle soon meets her captor,
Howard Stambler (John Goodman), who petulantly insists that he’s actually her
savior. He explains that he rescued her from the wreck, and brought her to his
underground bunker. Turns out that Howard is a survivalist, awash in conspiracy
theories ... but very, very organized.
His intensity also is more than a
little unnerving — even scary — but Michelle keeps her cool; we see the wheels
turning behind Winstead’s eyes. Fair enough, she replies, but now she’d like to
go home. Or call for help. Or ... something. Pretty please?
Howard’s regret looks and sounds
genuine. She can’t leave. He can’t leave. Something really, really bad happened
topside, in the outer world ... nuclear and/or chemical bombs, an invasion by
Russians, something. Maybe Martians.
Goodman suggests the latter with
a straight face. It’s a laugh line, to be sure, but only for us; Michelle finds
the suggestion even more frightening, given what it suggests about Howard’s
stability.
It subsequently turns out that
their little community includes a third person: Emmett (John Gallagher Jr.),
roughly Michelle’s age, and an amiable “country boy” who eventually confesses,
with regret, that he has lived his entire life within a 40-mile radius of where
he was born.
And that’s it: Howard, Michelle
and Emmett are stuck with each other, in this fortified shelter, for a long
time. Likely years, Howard insists.
(OK, yes; at about this point,
it’s impossible not to think of Room, and how it seems like Hollywood
scripters once again are reading each other’s mail. But the similarity remains
superficial.)
Michelle isn’t one to take things
at face value; she gets a few chances to, ah, realize that Howard likely is
telling the truth. (Forgive my vagueness, but you’ll thank me later; this film
makes the most of its various surprises, big and small.)
Even so, Howard’s “truth” may be
concealing a few other secrets. Possibly nasty ones?
Days pass, maybe weeks. The three
settle into an uneasy routine of sleeping, eating, board games, jigsaw puzzles,
DVD movies and other time-fillers. But the anxious atmosphere never really goes
away, which Michelle perceives far more than the sweetly naïve Emmett. Despite
everybody’s efforts at best behavior, we recognize that the dynamic is
unstable.
The tension builds, until ...
Well, that would be telling.
Winstead is a marvelously plucky
and resourceful heroine: a character we respect and admire more than Michelle
admires herself. That’s actually key to what makes her interesting; Michelle
admits, at one point, that she’s always been one to run away from problems or
“hard choices.” Yet she’s clearly smart and perceptive, and we watch her
blossom into a better, stronger version of herself.
Winstead will be recognized from
her recent starring turn as Nurse Phinney in PBS’ Mercy Street; she also had
memorable recent genre roles in Scott Pilgrim vs. the World and Abraham Lincoln: Vampire Hunter. Point being, she’s remarkably versatile, and graced
with an inherent subtle complexity — a singularity of purpose — that makes even
her trivial actions and comments quite interesting.
Goodman, as often is the case, is
a force of nature. His take on Howard is richly disconcerting: cheerfully
amiable at one moment, his eyes crinkling in spontaneous delight, and then —
like a switch being thrown — ferociously unhinged. Goodman wields his bulk like
a weapon, Cutter’s camera framing the actor for maximum physical intensity.
Goodman’s bravura moment comes
during a round of charades: a scene laced with so many aggressive
double-entendres that we’re pummeled to a point of screaming intensity.
Poor Emmett almost vanishes in
the shadow of his two companions. That’s not to fault Gallagher Jr., an
inherently sympathetic actor best remembered as journalist Jim Harper during
three seasons of HBO’s Newsroom. Emmett is, simply, an uncomplicated and callow
young man: clearly out of his depth in these circumstances.
And yet, we can’t help wondering
what he’s doing here, alongside Howard ... their collective stories
notwithstanding.
Production designer Ramsey Avery
has a field day with Howard’s survival bunker: a delightful blend of
well-constructed practicality — air purifier, steady water supply, fully
appointed kitchen, amazingly well-stocked larder — and jarringly cozy
accoutrements, such as cute lamps, an heirloom dining table and oddly placed
frilly bits. It feels like a man-cave assembled by a guy who thinks he might
one day share it with a woman, but hasn’t the faintest idea how to cater to
said potential female companion.
As for the rest, you’ll have to
find out for yourself. I’ve already said too much, and Trachtenberg (a noteworthy
big-screen debut) — along with skilled editor Stefan Grube — deserve their best
shot at keeping you at the edge of your seat.
See this one quickly, before its
various surprises get spoiled.
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