10 Cloverfield Lane: Not all monsters are so obvious
The following post is rife with spoilers. You’ve been warned.
When it was released in 2008, Cloverfield was the culmination of a massive viral marketing campaign. That sheer buzz helped the film eclipse its monster movie competitors, and it all felt like a really big cultural experience.
It’s quasi-sequel (or as producer J.J. Abrams called it, a “blood relative”), 10 Cloverfield Lane was given a similar media roll-out, albeit if not quite as culturally all-consuming. It also had those monstrous coattails to ride upon. Ultimately, though, 10CL doesn’t need much help to be a genuinely good and entertaining film. Instead, it’s got something its predecessor never had.
That’s not a wonderful performance from Mary Elizabeth Winstead, who created a character who takes fear and uncertainty and readily transmogrifies them into raw power. Nor is it the tension that permeates every single moment of the film, playful montages included. It’s not even the fact that it’s another starring role for John Gallagher, Jr., who played worst-nice-guy ever Jim Harper on Newsroom.
Nope, it’s having an amazing villain, one who held the moral high ground the whole time.
—
John Goodman crawled right into the skin of the super creepy survivalist/conspiracy nut Howard. The man’s got a huge, physical presence, and he uses it to control his “guests” and assert his dominance. He’s not the least bit likable, and even in moments of brevity (his dance scene), it’s just plain awkward and uncomfortable. And, as we learn just before the halfway point, he’s got a thing for holding pretty girls captive.
But like I said earlier, he’s never not wrong in his actions. Mostly.
Should he have chained the Winstead’s Michelle to a pipe after running her off the road and abducting her to his bomb shelter? Probably not. But when she got free, our plucky heroine did try to A) stab him with crutches and then later B) run headlong toward an unknown biological threat. He may have also been a wee bit overbearing with some of his rules, like the whole no touching policy. In his defense, it’s his bunker that’s keeping everyone alive. And touching could have led to romance, which leads to a partnership, and that inevitably ends with the odd man out choking on his blood as the lovebirds celebrate with rations. You may concede all of this, but then ask how could I ever validate the cold blooded murder of Gallagher’s good-hearted Emmett over a few measly missing supplies? As far as Howard knew, this presented a genuine threat, and he was just trying to do everything to stay alive.
I don’t feel bad for this character. I didn’t want him to win, and I was happy when he met his end in a most fiery way. He did, after all, murder at least one person and was a general psychopath. But he had his own very valid reasons, and that’s what matters most. He wasn’t a cannibal who’d gone crazy from huffing paint fumes. Nor was he the spawn of Satan looking to corrupt some poor mortal. And he certainly wasn’t some supervillain bent on world domination. Sure, he was nuttier than Mr. Peanut, but everything he did he had reasons for doing. And not just his own twisted reasoning, but decisions that made real-world sense. His reactions, though clearly overblown, are grounded in seemly logical choices. Ones concerning his personal well-being and to prevent the spread of unknown pathogens. You may hate him for what he wanted to do, but he wasn’t wrong about everything. (Up to the whole “let me create a surrogate wife-daughter hybrid” deal.) And most of the bloodshed portrayed in the movie happened directly to him, too.
So, no, don’t sympathize with the guy; although you can comfortably to a fairly decent extent. Instead, I think it’s just rare that we have this complex of a bad guy in a film, one where you can hate him but also recognize that he was totally right. Who else can you say that about in most films? Voldemort? Greedy man-child. Hans Gruber? Money-loving terrorist. The Joker? Violent sociopath. Darth Vader? An emotionally stunted narcissist crying out for help. Hannibal Lecter? Cannibalistic prankster. The Terminator, Agent Smith or Freddy Krueger? All creations to fulfill a specific plot device. All of these men, and so many other classic villains, all had their reasons for being bad. They just weren’t really that valid or meaningful.
Howard/Goodman was a much different beast entirely. You could hate him, but you also had to confront the fact that you might make some of the same choices. Yes, he was probably going to keep Michelle locked in a life of fear and servitude, but it beats the alternative of bleeding to death from your ears and tear ducts. This was a man who had been told he was crazy all his life, and then when the shit actually hits the fan, he was actually right. That kind of moral validation is huge, and it makes for a character with a purpose. And not just or blood or vengeance. He’s on the right side of history, and though his actions may be crude, putting him directly in the villain box is to ignore the sounds of apocalypse. That, to me, is way more interesting than any other baddie. It forces the audience face harsh truths and make tough decisions about morality and what it means to survive. You don’t want to side him with cause of who he is, but if you don’t you’re condemning yourself to go trudging through an uncertain, mostly hazardous world. You can hate him, but it may not feel quite as satisfying.
Let me take a character who has no real motivation. Paul (the awesome Michael Pitt)from 2007’s Funny Games. This is a character whose every action is based on fulfilling his own arbitrary needs. Is he bored and looking for a way to give life meaning again? Maybe he’s crazy and the film is just a weird, extended delusion? Perhaps it’s a case of a good old fashioned, bloodthirsty psycho? There’s no clear, discernible reason for doing what he does, and so the audience (i.e. me) just hates him for no real reason. We don’t want him to hurt the nice family, and when he does, that just makes us mad. And when he or his partner get (albeit inconsequentially) hurt, we celebrate because they’re bad. Yes, this might be the intended response, but none of this is a journey for the audience. It’s all laid out right there in front of us, and the only power we have is to decide which reason makes us hate him the most.
But the Howard character is not like young Paul. You could even make the argument, as I may have somewhat already, that he’s as much a victim of all this. Or you might disagree and enjoy when he gets his come-uppins. There may even be some of you who see the film and aren’t sure what to make of him. No matter, you can’t just stand by passively and see this guy as either some unfortunate villain or evil mastermind. You’ve got to put in the work to figure it out, and even when you come to a conclusion, he finds new ways to make you question yourself further. It’s not an easy thing to check off “main villain,” and that’s wildly appealing.
The film’s climax isn’t quite as fascinating. The emergence of face-sucking alien creatures makes it pretty clear we’re to cheer for the brave Michelle. But for a brief period, it felt oh-so wonderful not to be sure of the hatred for a villain, and if he even deserved it in the first place. More movies should prove as morally challenging, and if a proposed third Cloverfield movie ever comes to fruition, may the monsters continue to run amok.
