They could just be disposable actors in a Halloween sequel, but their improvisational delivery gives the movie a nice touch. Since the production team is trying to stuff a lot of material into an 80-minute movie, the audience is forced to give characters some leeway in draining their emotions. Sometimes the dialogue feels too real, which is never a bad thing. Odette Yustman is attractive, but is exploited as a beautiful MacGuffin.

For those expecting some sort of Blair Witch disappointment, don't. There is a monster...ok, I'll spill some beans, there's multiple monsters. And you will see them, quite often—and they're plenty more threatening than that big ugly green mess that came around in 1998 (oh, what was its name...) But where the movie deserves its appraisal is its camerawork. In the past, I've criticized directors (Tony Scott and Fernando Mereilles, to name a few) for using jerky and shaky camera movements along with gritty filters to give an undeserved sense of realism to their films. But Cloverfield is supposed to be based in realism, and is poised to touch the nerves of the typical sensitive American audience who may still recall the events of September 11th very vividly. That's where Reeves doesn't fail—the audience can't move away from the danger, are strapped to their seats when the camera witnesses the destruction of an American metropolis. We're never safe from the gaze of this little camcorder. Like Beckett, we keep waiting and waiting—and when it happens—it's an experience. That's all any moviegoer could want in a movie, and it's a fantastic thing.

Lacking any sort of musical score, it's the thunderous screeches of the monster and the crumbling of Broadway that the audience must generate tension from. In this respect, Cloverfield is a fascinating film. Whether or not its ending was meant to insinuate some sort of socio-political message, the final product is a satisfying and entertaining alternative to anything coming out in the next two months.