Cloverfield and American Apocalyptic Imagery on Screen
By the turn of the millennium, New York City was used to being destroyed. Throughout the late 1990s, the urban centre was subject to a wild variety of repetitive cycles of widespread destruction and rebuilding as a never-ending tirade of alien invaders, creatures and mutated monsters carved their way through the concrete jungle. It was a common sight for most movie-going audiences, to see their beloved landmarks torn down and blown apart, its rubble strewn from Manhattan to the Bronx for their Independence Day (1996), or their inevitable Armageddon (1998). But then it happened for real. And the innocent glee in destroying their country was lost.
The 9/11 terrorist attacks shook the world like no previous event ever had. Though, due to the historical significance, emotional weight and recency of the event, any ‘dramatisations of the two hijacked airliners striking the World Trade Center and the extent of the death and destruction experienced on 9/11 have remained a persistent taboo in American film’ (McSweeney, 2016, p. 136). Although some dramatic, realistic films have attempted to recreate the narrative experiences with supposedly-sensitive portrayals and multifaceted explorations into each element of the event - the build-up and motivations, the personal reaction and the destructive event itself - this serious saturation is low, and usually critically received by both audiences and scholars alike with negative distaste. For an obvious example, a film like Oliver Stone’s World Trade Center (2006) was quick to release and badly received. Consider also the span of films portraying torture as a necessary but unfortunate circumstance of warfare - in the immediate aftermath, America needed confirmation bias, and reassurance, and both The Hurt Locker (2008) and Zero Dark Thirty (2012) provide patriotic affirmation following a time of crisis, without dwelling on any images of potential consequences.
Of course, there still remains some ethical confusion around the use of 9/11-evoking imagery in contemporary American blockbuster cinema, and whether its possible use as ‘convenient shorthand for trauma and a dubious source of entertainment’ (McSweeney, 2016, p. 136) is culturally insensitive. Pointedly, 9/11 was ‘paradoxically both erased from the cinema screens and returned to in film after film’ (McSweeney, 2016, p. 2). A film like Lilo and Stitch (2002) may have altered the completed footage to remove any accidentally-explicit reference to the disaster, for fear of unintentional insensitivity; multiple television shows removed open reference to the World Trade Center itself; and marketing campaigns were changed to avoid any mention of possible city-bound destruction.
Equally, however, contemporary American blockbuster cinema is completely unable to avoid these unconscious allusions, by nature of the visual spectacle of the disaster itself - it remains in the public memory, waiting to be exploited throughout the filmic destruction. Subsequently, each film which tackles this has an inherent dichotomy behind its messaging. They could be seen as a ‘cynical re-packaging of cultural trauma designed to sell movie tickets’ (McSweeney, 2016, p. 137), exploiting the imagery for a quick, and cheap emotional response, without much consideration for the sensitivity, (even inspiring, as Stone (2011, p. 168) implies ‘pleasure’ from the ‘exciting, 9/11–inspired display’) or they could function as a ‘palpable manifestation of that very same trauma and an attempt to come to terms with it in ways deemed socially acceptable by society at large’ (McSweeney, 2016, p. 137). This conflicting reading has been reflected throughout the history of genre blockbuster features, coined as the ‘imagination of disaster’ by Susan Sontag (1965, p. 47). This concept calls upon the ‘intersection between a naïve and largely debased commercial art product and the most profound dilemmas of the contemporary situation’ – juxtaposingly, throughout history, science-fiction and horror feature films both ‘reflect worldwide anxieties, and they serve to allay them’, through their fantastical narratives and implicit monstrous representations.
Similarly, Douglas Kellner (2009, p. 2) uses the application of a term coined as ‘transcoding’ in order to reference how ‘specific political discourses’, such as the War on Terror, are ‘translated, or encoded into media texts’. A multitude of fantastical, allegorically-bound films can have critiques of the contemporary American government system buried below calamitous creatures and heroic protagonists, acting under varying levels of subtlety.
Despite the many explicit and implicit restrictions, a variety of evocative disastrous imagery, ranging from ‘images of planes colliding with skyscrapers, tall buildings collapsing, debris falling from the skies and scenes of dust-caked, panicked crowds fleeing disaster’ (McSweeney, 2016, p. 136), were thrown onto American screens in the aftermath of the event. This saturation of recognisable imagery often found its home in the allegorically-anthropomorphised critters and creatures of science-fiction and horror features that plagued the cinematic landscape in the early 2000s.
In many ways, Cloverfield (2008), functioning as an American attempt to utilise ‘situational cues from the Japanese kaiju eiga tradition’ itself famous for the allegorical power of its cinematic monsters, whilst using ‘its American stages to confront contemporary issues in the US imaginary’ (Macdonald, 2017, p. 164) is a perfectly allegorised exploration of the event itself. The effective exploitation of recognisable apocalyptic imagery is here, throwing ‘omnipresent dust, the falling scraps of paper, and the images of fleeing civilians’ (Macdonald, 2017, p. 165) in clear reference to the 9/11 terrorist attacks (00:23.19). A litany of destroyed buildings collapse, throwing steadily-advancing clouds towards the protagonists (00:21.36), whilst simultaneously obscuring the monster from view, trapping individuals in place with little hope of rescue (01:00.51), and presenting two ‘Twin Towers’ collapsed and nightmarish (00:54.57) in the most explicit allusion in the film.
This replication of recognisable and evocative apocalyptic imagery is a commonality to most American blockbusters, following the event. Science-fiction and horror features return to the panicked crowds, the collapsing towers and dust clouds with disturbing ease, though, as mentioned, maybe, in the modern day, this is an unconscious connection. Crafted with a specific awareness, however, Spielberg’s War of the Worlds (2005) contains many sequences wherein the contemporary fears are ‘transcoded’ onto the aliens of the past - floating clothing (01:06.04), a crashed plane (00:42.49), or frightened individuals reduced to atoms and dust (00:27.00). In the modern cinematic landscape, perhaps unconsciously, the focus of modern superhero franchises, with their reliance on city-wide spectacle, and un-personalised and desensitised destruction calls to mind a subverted, wishful re-telling of the disaster, with little focus on the damaging impact throughout. A film like The Avengers (2012), or Man of Steel (2013) will consistently present wildly exacerbated property damage, yet provide little consideration to the effect this has on humans living within the city. These diluted films simply don’t want to tackle the event in all its reality.
In Cloverfield, this spectacle-focused impact is heightened by the artistic decision to frame the film through the (then, highly popular) mode of Found-Footage. Whilst it could be seen as jumping onto a newly-resurged trend, this decision has a few different cinematic and narrative impacts. First, the style. As ‘Cloverfield’s monster is emblematic of the insidious fear of fear itself that characterised the War on Terror and its global media coverage’ (Macdonald, 2017, p. 167), and a large portion of this media coverage was actual found-footage, itself an ‘artefact of the event, as much as the millions of singed papers and photos that blanketed the New York City suburbs’ (Barr, 2016, p. 53) were, the decision to use an amateur style to build on an ‘established sense of naturalism’ (Macdonald, 2017, p. 165) is clear and effective. Since Kjetil Rødje (2017, p. 206) states the cameras in Found-Footage films, ‘take on roles as active agents’ and ‘not only operate as simple recording devices, but they become actors’, the use of this medium keeps the focus of the film on a small group of protagonists, with a singular, personal goal, therefore further grounding the narrative and allegorical experience of the characters the audience will align with. In addition, as Coyle (2010, p. 227) outlines, this use of individual focus lent by the single camera also reflects public attitudes following the event, and the change it incited in ‘perceptions of self and agency in relation to government and the state’, wherein Rob’s ‘prioritisation of the individual over conformity to government strategies’ in his ignorance of their protestation, as he goes to save Beth (00:51.33) suggests a clear corresponding attitude in the film to that of the public.
Finally, the sincere, horror-heavy tone throughout is equally significant to the power of this allegory. The serious handling and lack of ‘awe at the destruction - for the audience or for the characters’ leaves ‘only tangible, palpable fear’ (Barr, 2016, p. 53) and the decision to remove the creature from the centre of the action, following the New Yorkers in the wake of his destructive path, makes the allusion even more impactful – a removal of the fantastical leaves the audience with the allegory laid bare. If there is frequently no creature to see, the audience is simply left with the panic and destruction of the frightened protagonists as they travel around a decaying, collapsing city, and thus, the tragic allusion grows more explicit. However, now the innocence in these once-spectacular images is lost. As Kellner (2009, p. 126) states, iconography such as the famed decapitated Statue of Liberty (00:20.52) lain discarded and degraded in the streets of New York speaks to a ‘broader theme of the end of innocence even for the affluent young, in the era of bin Laden and Bush/Cheney, where spectacles of terror had become part of everyday life’. Likewise, this commitment to the removal of the fantastical as often as possible can also relate to the adoption of (relatively) unknown actors in the role of the protagonists, along with the close-knit chemistry and unspoken history they bring with them - the protagonists are people, New-Yorkers, not particularly fantastic, or even very likeable at times, but real, and thus, un-romanticised in the way that Hollywood stars commonly are, and any sense of disillusionment from following them and their visages (as seen in World Trade Center and its odd-choice casting of Nicholas Cage), is subsequently weakened.
Crucial to this dark tone is the film’s conclusion, wherein, after their companions have all been killed in various ways, both Rob and Beth are trapped and killed, and all of Manhattan is destroyed (01:13.03). Cloverfield stands in a strong contrast to the other examples identified throughout this exploration, which succumb to positive endings, a sanitised view of the violence and impersonal study of the human effect. A reversal of the status-quo, whilst acknowledging the event and drawing on its presence and imagery is ignorant of the event itself. 9/11 didn’t end. It continues into the modern day - its ramifications felt and rippling throughout modern global society, and the cinematic climate that exploits and explores it.
Instead, Cloverfield’s negative ending reminds viewers of the mood of ultimate nihilism and inevitability permeating in many victims of the event, and suggests that the subsequent distraught that pervaded American culture following the event is unresolved - the final words spoken in the film (though reversed, for mysterious-effect) tell that the monster is “still alive” (01:24.24), and thus, the war on terror itself that the creature stands for has not truly been defeated - whether that is through failed militaristic intervention or simply the passage of time aimed to provide distance from the event itself. The tragedy lives on, past the film, and past the memories it inspires and brings with it, into the world we all currently live within, waiting for the next, tragic time it needs to rear its ugly head and make itself be known.
Literary Reference List
Macdonald, J. (2017) ‘Godzilla, Gorillas and Geopolitics in the Global 21st Century’ in Mustachio, C.D.G. and Barr, J. (ed.), Giant Creatures in Our World: Essays on Kaiju and American Popular Culture. California: McFarland, pp. 161 - 178.
Barr, J. (2016) The Kaiju Film: A Critical Study of Cinema's Biggest Monsters. North Carolina: McFarland & Company.
McSweeney, T. (2016) The 'War on Terror' and American Film. Edinburgh: Edinburgh University Press.
Sontag, S. (1965) ‘The Imagination of Disaster’ in Redmond, S. (ed.), Liquid Metal: The Science Fiction Film Reader. Columbia: Wallflower Press, pp. 40 - 47.
Coyle, R. (2010) ‘Point of audition: Sound and music in Cloverfield’, Science Fiction Film and Television, Volume 3, Issue 2, pp. 217 - 237.
Rødje, K. (2017) ‘Intra-Diegetic Cameras as Cinematic Actor Assemblages in Found Footage Horror Cinema’, Film-Philosophy, Volume 21, Issue 2, pp. 206 - 222.
Stone, J. (2011) ‘Enjoying 9/11: The Pleasures of Cloverfield’, Radical History Review, Issue 111, pp. 167 - 174.
Kellner, D. (2009) Cinema Wars : Hollywood Film and Politics in the Bush-Cheney Era. New Jersey: Wiley-Blackwell.
Filmography
Cloverfield, 2008. [Film]. Directed by Matt Reeves. US: Paramount Pictures.
War of the Worlds, 2005. [Film]. Directed by Steven Spielberg. US: Paramount Pictures.
Independence Day, 1996. [Film]. Directed by Roland Emmerich. US: 20th Century Studios.
Armageddon, 1998. [Film]. Directed by Michael Bay. US: Touchstone Pictures.
Lilo and Stitch, 2002. [Film]. Directed by Chris Sanders and Dean DeBlois. US: Walt Disney Pictures.
The Hurt Locker, 2008. [Film]. Directed by Kathryn Bigelow. US: Summit Entertainment.
Zero Dark Thirty, 2012. [Film]. Directed by Kathryn Bigelow. US: Sony Pictures Releasing.
The Avengers, 2012. [Film]. Directed by Joss Whedon. US: Walt Disney Studios
Motion Pictures.
Man of Steel, 2013. [Film]. Directed by Zack Snyder. US: Warner Bros. Pictures.
World Trade Center, 2006. [Film]. Directed by Oliver Stone. US: Paramount Pictures.
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