I don't know. Something terrible.

I was full of doubt when I heard Cloverfield was a love story. But after watching it, I saw that at its root, Cloverfield truly is a love story that gets bogged down by a completely predictable monster. The movie begins with a farewell party for Rob, who is going to Japan for a new job. At the party is Beth, a onetime short romantic acquaintance of Rob’s who shared a flirtatious day with Rob six weeks earlier, but the present reality is that Beth comes to Rob’s farewell party with another man. Documenting the drama is Jason, Rob’s brother, Hud, Marlena and Lily. When Hud isn’t covering interaction between Beth and Rob, which ends at the party with Beth walking out on Rob, he is intent on filming Marlena, a crush of his.

The party goes on for twenty minutes, nearly a third of the movie, before the monster makes an appearance. Heard and felt by all, the party moves to the roof to position for a better look at the source of the noise. They get it. The monster quickly comes their way after throwing the head of the Statue of Liberty down the street. From there the party is thrown into chaos and all residents of Manhattan are ordered to leave. Rob and three of his friends are on their way out of the city when he gets a call from Beth who is stuck in her apartment. Faced with a decision, Rob tells all to go on their way without him. He is determined to find and save Beth and his friends are determined not to let Rob go on his own even though it is clear that it might be a one-way trip for all of them.

At best, Cloverfield is intriguing. I am aware of its cult following—mostly by Lost fans—and after watching only a few minutes of the movie I understand that it could only be loved by a ravenous group of fanatics and not beloved by the whole world. Much like the Star Wars prequels are to most people—overwhelmingly disappointing—Cloverfield failed to meet my expectations.

As probably all do, I spent the first few minutes of the movie settling into the movement of the camera. The cinematography, “shot” completely by the characters with their indestructible video camera, is rarely focused on what I wanted to be seeing. It certainly achieves the feeling of watching a homemade video because it made me yearn for a traditionally shot film. Ever heard of a camera track?

The camera work isn’t the only area of the movie that has the homemade feel. Unfortunately, the acting reminds me of one reason why I go to the movies—for quality acting—because it just isn’t there in Cloverfield. You’ve got to hand it to the cast though; they do a great job acting like they aren’t acting, thus, making them aggravating to watch.

There are things to love in Cloverfield. The monster could have easily been reminiscent of Godzilla, but it has a refreshing appearance…if a 30-story tall monster can have that. We see enough of it to peak our interest, but there is a lot about the monster and what the military knows about it that isn’t revealed, leaving the option for a sequel.

It must have taken a considerable about of work to maintain the feeling of a homemade video and the integrity of a believable monster stomping through the streets of New York City. In all scenes the monster (which remains unnamed) looks as real as anything else on camera. However, the strength of the visual effects is overpowering. I ended up caring more about the action sequences than I worried about the fate of Rob and Beth.

Although there are some unexpected twists in Cloverfield—like the little creatures that drip off the big monster—they are coupled with predictable elements like an infection carried in the bite of the creatures that deflates the movie of ingenuity. The contagious or deadly bite is used too often in virus/vampire thrillers which are a completely different subset of movies, but unsurprising nonetheless. The scene in which Marlena gets taken away by military personnel in HAZMAT suits was seen a mile away.

Another cheap thrill was the rash celebration in the helicopter after the B-2 Stealth Bomber drops its payload on the monster. The explosion of the bombs and the collapse of the monster create a massive cloud of dust. There is a short delay before the monster jumps at the helicopter cutting off Hud’s premature exclamations of victory. Surprised? No, not really.

The only dialogue in the movie that feels thought through is Hud’s, the man behind the camera. Throughout incessant yelling and cumbersome noise were Hud’s dry and smart-alecky comments.

When Beth sees the monster for the first time she yells, “What is that?”

“It’s…It’s a terrible thing.” Hud replies, injecting some much needed humor into a painful script.

In another scene, Rob, Lilly and Hud must cross from one building to another via a precarious bridge. “I’ll go first,” Rob says.

“Okay. I’ll…I’ll document,” Hud says.

But Hud’s humor can’t hold the movie together and it slowly falls apart while we race toward the ending where we already know what is going to happen. There was nothing done to protect us from knowing the conclusion of this movie. We know from the beginning that the tape is found in Central Park, thus leading us to assume death is imminent for those behind the camera. I felt myself watching solely to know who lives their last moments on tape, but wouldn’t it have been more enjoyable to not be expecting that? Then again, maybe the director wanted us to know that the movie ended abruptly so we could expect a terrible ending. The last second declaration of love would have been more poignant had we not known that the tape ends in Central Park.

It was a love/hate relationship, all 73 minutes of it, and when it ended I thought of a scene, featuring Beth and Hud, for which the dialogue is an appropriate reaction to the film.

“What the hell was that?” Beth asks.

“I don’t know. Something terrible.”