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Cloverfield, a surreptitiously subversive, stylistically clever little gem of an entertainment disguised, under its deadpan-neutral title, as a dumb Gen-YouTube monster movie, makes the convincingly chilling argument that the world will end — or, at least, Manhattan will crumble — with a bang and a whimper. The bang part, as millions who have seen the trailer already know, is supplied by the…thing…that arises on an otherwise peaceful May night to wreak destruction on New York City: He (She? It?) swats at skyscrapers and smashes NYC landmarks, abetted by tentacled mini-monsters that lunge directly at humans like voracious paparazzi. And when the military arrives to fight back, let’s just say the troops opt for the all-out surge approach. The movie is not for the weak of stomach – not from excessive gore – but from the “blair witch” concept of filming using a single hand-held camera. Once you get over the initial shock of the cinematography it is about 84 minutes of interesting action. The movie ends with you figuring that probably even the hero and heroine wind up dying; however, my guess is that since it had a decent box office showing that either they will be rescued or at least the video they were filming when son or daughter of whatever the monster was decides to take revenge on Manhattan after it’s rebuilt decades later. With the caveat of the unsettling cinematography, there are certainly worse things you could do with an hour and 20 minutes.