A bundle of massively entertaining scenarios squashed unceremoniously into one

Rating: 9/10 (11 September 2016)

JJ Abrams called 10 Cloverfield Lane a "spiritual successor" to Cloverfield, which proved to be one of the most subtle anti- spirituality comments made so far this year. In case you weren't aware, "spiritual" is actually Abrams-speak for "not at all". Just as "new", in relation to his addition to the Star Wars canon, actually meant "rehashed and served on a glistening chrome platter". In any case, don't trust Abrams, mega-multi-muchacho filmmaker though he is. Trust me instead.
All the pieces of 10 Cloverfield Lane are really quite good. Each thrills sufficiently, and manages to provide substantial and effective suspense accompanied by excellent performances and solid direction by debut filmmaker Dan Trachtenberg. Despite taking on a high-concept approach, Trachtenberg never overwhelms his narrative, a feat given how often great concepts are squashed by vapid stories nowadays. However, when taken as a whole, the film feels curiously haphazard. Segments lack continuity, and the final fifteen minutes are akin to duck feet on a grizzly bear. As far as an under-budgeted claustrophobic thriller goes, it passes with flying colours as a prime example of gold- standard entertainment, but its strange construction makes it difficult to recommend.
Mary Elizabeth Winstead stars as Michelle, who finds herself in a doomsday shelter with two men after a car accident. Although one of the men, Emmett, is the definition of harmlessness, Howard, played by John Goodman, is much more sinister. Howard is the man who built the shelter and brought Michelle there. He serves as the rough, taciturn authourity figure who sees all and knows all, acting supposedly in the best interests of the three members of his tiny, underground world. But Michelle isn't about to follow him without question. She immediately decides that all she wants to do is escape.
Perhaps the most terrifying part of the film is not what's out there, but what's inside. Howard himself is a menacing, idiosyncratic figure who maintains his authourity with a thick ring of keys, a gun, and an iron fist. And yet, he may be not all that he seems. Michelle senses this right off the mark, fuelling her desire to escape. Thus begins their deliriously entertaining game of cat and mouse that plays tricks on our senses with creaks, thumps, and the occasional nasty shock. What makes it all the more terrifying is how frustratingly small the shelter is. A potent sense of claustrophobia is invoked within the viewer, as Michelle plots away against Howard behind his back, but without any knowledge of where that hulking, flabby back might be.
While it's the suspense that drives the film, what elevates it beyond an uncommonly effective thriller are the remarkable performances by each of its three leads. Mary Elizabeth Winstead makes it easy to root for her character. Not only is she especially vulnerable as a woman living with two strange men, she's also an unprecedented badass with more tricks up her sleeve than a professional magician. John Gallagher Jr., while serving as the standard "nice guy" character who offsets Howard's incessant humorlessness, provides the film's emotional foundation.
John Goodman is absolutely petrifying, a villain disguised as a hero. His primary demeanour is that of unfathomable coldness, but his temper tantrums come frequently and with little provocation. In a way, he's a perverse father figure, the guy you spent your childhood tiptoeing around for fear of a beating. Shrouded in mystery, but with enough revealed to make us question his intentions, we spend much of the film guessing as to who Howard truly is beyond a lumbering source of jump scares.
The film's ending is without a doubt the weirdest thing I've seen in a film all year. It isn't surreal or artsy -- common sources of weirdness, but it arrives like a bolt from the blue, a massive contrast with what came before. I've committed to no-spoiler reviews, so I won't tell you exactly what happens. Chances are that you won't like it, but I did. In fact, I loved it. I found it extremely satisfying, and, well, a pretty gosh darn awesome fifteen minutes of pure exhilaration accompanied by a wonderfully climactic finale and a perfect resolution to Michelle's character arc.
Only problem is, it's tangential. The story is segmented by this strange turn of events, which has little, if anything to do with what came before. In any film, unless it's an artistic choice -- which I'm sure Abrams would insist -- a lack of continuity is a major, major problem.
Too many people call 10 Cloverfield Lane a JJ Abrams film. Sure, he produced it. But anyone who knows anything about JJ Abrams should also know that he isn't able to do something like this. Abrams' films are big stories with big budgets meant to be viewed on big screens, and no, Super 8 isn't an exception. So to put 10 Cloverfield Lane's pen in Abrams' hand is a travesty indeed, because to do so negates Trachtenberg's surprising feat: He has created a small story with a small budget, but one that thrills, chills, and spills on a massive scale.