When is a Hit Not a Hit?

Science fiction commentator Erika Nelson has a brilliant review of Drew Goddard and Matt Reeves' "Cloverfield" at her blog, Confessions of an Aspiring Science Fiction Scholar. 

Nelson maintains she heard bad things about "Cloverfield," and that kept her out of theaters. I find that fascinating, and it fuels a message-board/Web-fueled impression I've maintained of the public's reaction to film, but which  financial data refutes. 

The $25 million production grossed $80 million in the United States, and topped Martin Luther King Day weekend receipts. It went on to gross $170.5 million worldwide, and $29.1 million in DVD sales. No mean numbers. 

That being said, I tried this experiment: Google "Cloverfield, review." Here are my results: 

1. Rolling Stone: Peter Travers writes: "Now that the fanboy hype has cleared, we can see 'Cloverfield' for what it is: borrowed inspiration, trite screenwriting and amateurish acting all in the service of a ballsy idea ... "

2. Neil Cumpston posted this at Ain'tItCoolNews.com (Google finds it through KillerFilm), in which he points out the part of the film he didn't like (Cumpston seemed to enjoy the part wherein the monster "rips the living shit" out of the city): "The bad: Smarty pants story-telling shit where the video you're watching has un-recorded bits where you see the hero's relationship a few weeks back, before the monster shows up."

3. The New York Times' Manhola Dargis does some ripping of  "the living shit" of her own: "Like 'Cloverfield' itself, this new monster is nothing more than a blunt instrument designed to smash and grab without Freudian complexity or political critique, despite the tack allusions to Sept. 11."

4. TheMovieBlog.com also concedes the battle to "Cloverfield's" production values, but this reviewer, "John," is upset about the marketing campaign ("I haven't been a fan, nor am I now ...") and he echoes Cumpston's disdain for the intercut back story. "Far beyond the cheesiest of the cheese," he writes, and then "Honestly, the monster was nothing special," and furthermore, "I heard more than a few people walking out complaining about not seeing more of the monster, or more of the carnage he wrought in the movie. I can see where they're coming from."

5. Peter Sciretta at SlashFilm.com writes glowingly of the film, but also notes the hype, "can wear thin really fast, especially when you're subject them to [sic] to near-pointless online viral storylines." 

And that's the first page. It's not a scientific survey, and it even runs somewhat counter to anecdotal measurements by aggregators like RottenTomatoes.com, which ranked critics' reactions to the movie at 77 percent. 

But what I think it does indicate is that there were three threads that fed the bad rap "Cloverfield" seemed to accumulate. 

One: Viral marketing is not what it was in 1999. Consumers are savvy to it and they could dislike the notion of being manipulated by incremental information, or incidental episodes of the campaign. 

Two: Some contingent of genre audiences want little in the way of human characterization. The lowest common denominator of our adherents to the form want nothing more than a video game of violence, carnage, and special effects for 90 minutes. (This is not endemic to horror cinema, one might also propose.)

Three: Something about "Cloverfield's" visual language rubbed some people the wrong way — whether it was the size and shape of the monster, how much screentime the monster was given, or the images of destruction on the screen. 

I'm most interested in this component of public reaction. I think the anti-9/11 subtext packed into some of the negative comments about "Cloverfield" amount to a public expression of persistent discomfort with seeing New York City impacted by catastrophic events. And since what horror cinema does best is bring us to those places of discomfort, we can term any negative response to such subtext a success. Thanks for confirming the film's strength, Ms. Dargis.

What infuriates me is the combination of the first two components. The aggressive treatment of the film because of hype and marketing is a direct function of a vicious cycle. By our response to the advertising in question, we perpetuate the advertising. And advertising of film is seldom advertising any more, it is summarization. Trailers are minutes long, and contain most of the key beats of at least the first act. And we soak it up. In fact, the "Star Trek" trailer before "Cloverfield" was news on sites like Mania.com.

There is nothing worse for horror cinema than this culture of a priori relationships with the text. 

The horror film relies upon the sublimation of the audience's need for some comprehension of narrative and expected experience. Only when the audience is in the moment, unshackled from connection to a known progression of scenes, can it experience the best effect of the film. 

We live in a world in which there is no longer a news cycle. Every 24 minutes we expect the Internet to produce new information. Narrative within fiction, be it book or film, is ruthlessly exposed before release or publication. 

And for horror cinema, it is a particularly destructive phenomenon. Our inherent disappointment in the knowledge we carry into the theater is expressed as disappointment in the film. But the film never had a chance.