Cloverfield

Yesterday, I was granted the present of any three wishes. One of them I made was to be taken to see “Cloverfield.”

Like many youngsters of my era, I was hooked on monster films. “It Came from Outer Space,” “20 Million Miles to Earth,” “Rodan,” “It Came from Beneath the Sea,” and the granddaddy of them all, “Godzilla.”

This list causes me to digress to fabricate a trivia question. Who are two classic monster film stars who later co-starred in a long-running TV series? Raymond Burr (Godzilla) and William Hopper (20 Million Miles to Earth). The series was “Perry Mason.”

While the special effects of “Godzilla” were primitive to the point of being comical, the terror was contagious. Japanese do great terror. Good transference. “Cloverfield’ adds a dimension.

I’m not that concerned about giving away any surprises in “Cloverfield.” The ending is revealed in the opening sequence, if you’re paying attention.

The viewpoint is a hand held camera. A little distressing at first, but you get used to it.

The camera starts out with its role in two young people hooking up in New York City. This apparently was not erased, as the storyline jumps a month to a going away party for the guy. He’s moving to Japan for a job.

There are some subplots woven in, with a decent dose of humor. This tends to draw you in and make it a more personal tragedy. The camera has been passed to a friend. As the drama of the party unfolds, something of greater importance occurs. New York comes under attack. Decades have passed since “King Kong,” and they still don’t have a monster emergency plan.

From there, the derivative aspects of the film emerge. “Escape from New York,” “Planet of the Apes.” and “Aliens,” not to mention echoes of the real life September 11th. A little irksome, but palatable.

Most monster flicks divulge all the whats, whys and wherefores. Part of the charm of this is that you experience the fear of the unknown. The characters of the film have little idea what’s going on, so either do you. There is no lengthy explanation of the origin or nature of the beast. No moral messages or symbolism. Just straight-up giant lizard kicking your ass. I like it. Closer to realism (as intergalactic dinosaur scenarios go). I don’t need to hear how our hedonism or thirst for nuclear weapons manifested itself as some kind of karmic payback. I just want a low level airstrike scrambled to splatter his scaly hide over three states.

There is the obligatory, “Don’t go there!” device. Of course, the protagonist does anyway. The rescue of the damsel is unbelievable in several respects, but you live with it. To fully enjoy this, you must ignore the implausible. Buildings toppling all around you, panicky citizen stampedes, peril springing out at every corner, and this guy still has a camera plastered to his face. I’d have dropped it in the first two seconds and be swiveling my head like an owl. Just go with it.

Not a flick I’d watch a second time. But, the impact of the first experience makes it worthwhile.

In the post-movie analysis, I’m asked the inevitable question. “A four hundred foot monster is closing in on me and I’m pinned by building debris. I call you on the cell phone. You’d come rescue me, wouldn’t you?”

I answer, returning the tongue-in-cheek tone. “Sure, hon.”

I’d be paddling my kayak down the East River so fast I could pull a water skier.