* Everyone is talking about this movie. Prior to the sad death of Heath Ledger today it was the most talked-about event in genre culture I could think of in a long time. I do wish I could still say the same.

* Anyway, "everyone" includes me, and including a bunch of other people.

* "Everyone" also includes the filmmakers, who are still pumping out the "clues." The official site now features a photo of what looks to be the remains of the beast washed up on a beach. (Via Whitney Matheson.) On the other hand, there's that sound clip from the end of the film itself which says "help us" when played forwards and "it's still alive" backwards, which sure fits with the film's lo-fi realist motif, doesn't it. And then there's the supposed revelation of the monster's origin within the final Coney Island footage, which folks are now reporting has been labeled by J.J. Abrams as a falling satellite rather than the falling creature itself, the satellite supposedly waking the creature who's laid dormant for thousands of years off the coast of Coney Island or something, which is stupid and a lot less randomly cool and weird than a giant monster falling out of the sky. And supposedly that Russian dude in the alley calls it a water god that comes from the land of the ice and snow.

* One of the freshest takes on the film comes from Andrew Sullivan, of all people, who writes:

The real coup was in using very rudimentary camera work to feature CGI. So it was the first CGI horror movie which wasn't so in love with its new technology to be confident enough to hide it, and to subjugate it to story and narrative. Yeah, The Host was pretty cool, in a pomo kind of way. But Cloverfield actually scared me - because it was so realistic for a movie about a mega-monster terrifying Manhattan.

I'd cite him for a violation of the Adams Axiom over the bit about The Host if I could figure out what the hell he means by it, but the point that follows is the one I keep coming back to and the point that precedes it is one that I'd never thought of before in those terms at all. Well done Sully.

* The great pop-culture blogger Rich Juzwiak echoes my sentiments at his site Four Four:

I loved so much of it: the conceit, the commentary on our documentary culture (a relevant spin on the found-footage template brilliantly arranged by Cannibal Holocaust), the snatches of information we are given (the fake news broadcasts felt so real, that still days later when I turn on CNN, my first impulse is relief that the whole monster thing isn't still going on ), the monster itself (kind of reptilian, kind of amphibious, kind of insect-like...the more I saw it, the more I wanted to know about it). And the stuff that I loved, I really loved. It, in my mind, all was adequate compensation for the aspects of the film that were fucking horrible, namely all of the characters. If only the characters were as extraordinary as the events depicted, I'd have no problem labeling Cloverfield a classic.

That last sentence is dead-on. You should also read Rich's piece for its hilarious takedown of the reunion scene and his charmingly cynical analysis of how economic necessity, MPAA-dictated discretion, and artistic innovation all dovetailed in the film's first-person construction.

* In the only review you'll read that compares Cloverfield to James Cameron Mitchell's Shortbus, My New Plaid Pants's Jason Adams finally stops yelling "dude!" long enough to offer a pretty sober and positive review of the film, centered on what he feels is its extremely effective evocation of the 9/11 experience. It's nice to see him do this in a way that explicitly rejects the NYC jingoism of the likes of Manohla Dargis, by the way.

* The most amusing catalog of said provincialism I've come across can be found in CRWM's hilariously quote-laden review roundup at And Now the Screaming Starts. But after he finishes pointing out the silliness of all these critics basically replacing actual engagement with the film with yelling "damn tourists!" at it, he has the best neither-fish-nor-fowl analysis of the 9/11 content in the film I've come across so far: The movie's neither a brilliant allegory for the attacks nor a crass exploitation of them, but simply a monster-attack film that employs the "visual language" as a locus of horror, as well it probably should.

* What do I think, with a few days hindsight? Sully, Rich, Jason, and CRWM are all correct--this is a very, very good "giant monster attacks" movie. I'd go so far as to say it's the best I've ever seen. Why? Because it makes the monster and the attack frightening by tying it so tightly to the trauma of the destruction of a city as seen from ground level. The problem is those damn characters! It's been gratifying to see the response to them so universally negative that even J.J. Abrams might have to listen when prepping the now-inevitable sequel. I don't hate them or find them reprehensible because they're good-looking and well-to-do like some critics--they just don't do much, and the one thing they do do--rescue the damsel in distress--is cliched and dopey and reductive. I find myself hoping that the DVD will enable you to snip out the character bits and watch the attack as though it really were unfolding before you on a cable news network, or through various YouTube videos you're flipping between. That material has so much power and it's all the movie can do to keep it from being totally undercut by Rob doing it all for the glory of love, Peter Cetera-style.

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