Low-tech monster film delivers chills

Just when you thought there was no new way of making a giant-monster-rampaging-through-a-city movie, along comes "Cloverfield" to brighten things up.

This one takes the handheld "Blair Witch" approach. The first thing we see is a government logo stating (or warning) that what we are about to see is the unedited footage discovered in a video camera at a spot "formerly known as Central Park."

Everything that follows on screen purports to be shot through a videocam documenting a birthday party in New York one night. The first 15 minutes or so of "Cloverfield" takes place at this party, where we meet a few 20-somethings.

Then something shakes the ground and makes the lights flicker. Loud stomping is heard. Skyscrapers are bursting into flame, and something seems to have taken a swipe at the Statue of Liberty.

The next hour or so is a breathless sprint through a monster-struck Manhattan, as a handful of survivors try to rescue a friend trapped in an apartment building (which happens to be doing a Pisa-like lean against another high-rise).

Putting aside the nausea-inducing style of an exclusively handheld camera, "Cloverfield" comes up with some dandy examples of monster-movie suspense. Nasty attacks on the Brooklyn Bridge and in a subway tunnel are exploited for maximum panic. A helicopter crash is a genuine movie nightmare.

The videocam approach lends a stranglehold of helplessness to the movie. There's no distance from the mayhem, no longshots of burning cities.

And when it comes to the monster making a direct assault on the dude with the camera, we get to see what that looks like, too. Let's just say the monster doesn't floss.

The mostly drab TV-bred cast includes Lizzy Caplan, Michael Stahl-David, and Odette Yustman. The script by Drew Goddard gives an appropriate number of comic-relief moments within the general grimness.

What's appealing about the movie (assuming you find monster movies appealing in the first place) is the blend of lo-tech look with seamless special effects. Producer J.J. Abrams, of "Lost" and "Alias" fame, and director Matt Reeves use the videocam technique to suck us into the reality of what we're seeing. Then they hit us with Godzilla's cousin.

All of which puts the film squarely in the tradition of the great Orson Welles radio broadcast of "The War of the Worlds," which also played off a supernatural attack against a mundane setting. This is fun stuff, as long as you've taken your Dramamine.