Fandom 50 (2/50): 10 Cloverfield Lane
Mar. 16th, 2025 07:06 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
yelpThe most recent movie I watched on Netflix was "10 Cloverfield Lane", which is not one I would have chosen for myself, but enjoyed nonetheless in a nail-biting way. (Is my fandom50 just going to turn into all Netflix reviews? Ah well.) It begins with the protagonist, Michelle, waking in an underground bunker with a man named Howard, who claims to have saved her life—and that some kind of disaster has made the world aboveground uninhabitable, so he can't let her leave. She'll have to stay down here with him for the foreseeable future.
Throughout the movie, both Michelle and we the audience are trying to figure out whether Howard is telling the truth, in whole or in part. Even as Michelle begins to uncover some dark secrets, we still wonder how much of the situation is true and how much is manufactured. Even in the end, I still have questions about his actual version of events, but being left without solid answers is the intended effect, I think. (To top things off, I've never seen the "Cloverfield" movie, so I came into this even more clueless—nor did I know whether it was at all related to this one despite the similar name.)
As you can imagine, the premise hooked me immediately. It's a forced proximity/unreliable narrator kind of situation, which I enjoy very much in fic, but it was also much more disturbing here. John Goodman (who plays Howard, phenomenally), is just so much larger than Michelle, looming over her in the scene where she wakes up on a thin mattress on the concrete floor. In exchanges, I request a lot of power imbalance things, and I find I tend to DNW M/F for this. The inherent difference in size and strength (on average) sets the scenario up in a particular direction, not to mention it mirrors real-world power differentials, physical and social, that I don't like in my escapism. (Please only do my power imbalance in the exact way I want, thanks!) But boy, the film is going for that discomfort, the obvious visual contrast between the two leads, and it really works.
Howard is a hard character to read. He's not violent, and he's prepped thoroughly for a disaster, and he's allowing Michelle and a young man named Emmett to share in the fruits of his labor. But he also clearly relishes being the lord of his domain, and quickly loses his temper at what he sees as rebellion. When Michelle flirts with Emmett a bit, Howard flies into a rage. (Later, Howard says it was always meant to be just him and Michelle down there—which pings some suspicion for sure.) When he takes her on a tour of the space, even normal domestic requests like "use a coaster for the table" take on an unsettling tone, underscored by our uncertainty about what's really going on out there and his true intentions. Despite being trapped down here by an unexpected global disaster, he seems entirely ready for the situation, almost like this is exactly what he's been hoping for all along, and now things are finally going the way he wanted.
He also withholds information with Michelle, and often mentions someone called "Megan" without elaborating. At first we wonder if Megan was his wife, which makes his constant comparisons between her and Michelle feel sinister and threatening. (When we find out Megan was his daughter, that doesn't make things much better—and instead casts his controlling tendencies in a different light.) He has Michelle dress in Megan's old clothes, and even makes horrifying comments like, "Megan was a good cook. You'll learn to love cooking too." He has a very specific vision for the role she'll play, trapped down here for the next undefined interval. (But why does he have his daughter's clothes down here? Why does he have sedatives? Why?)
One thing he repeatedly states is that Michelle could show a little gratitude for his saving her life. When Michelle does thank him, halfheartedly, he gets this tiny smile on his face, truly pleased, like this simple courtesy was all he was looking for. (Have I mentioned the acting is really phenomenal?) As long as she plays along, he'll be nice. If she tries to deviate, he loses his temper. Something about being molded by someone with more power than you into a specific box, a particular script in their head that they want you to follow—it's just so uncomfortable for me, and so effective for what the film sets out to do.
Throughout the movie, both Michelle and we the audience are trying to figure out whether Howard is telling the truth, in whole or in part. Even as Michelle begins to uncover some dark secrets, we still wonder how much of the situation is true and how much is manufactured. Even in the end, I still have questions about his actual version of events, but being left without solid answers is the intended effect, I think. (To top things off, I've never seen the "Cloverfield" movie, so I came into this even more clueless—nor did I know whether it was at all related to this one despite the similar name.)
As you can imagine, the premise hooked me immediately. It's a forced proximity/unreliable narrator kind of situation, which I enjoy very much in fic, but it was also much more disturbing here. John Goodman (who plays Howard, phenomenally), is just so much larger than Michelle, looming over her in the scene where she wakes up on a thin mattress on the concrete floor. In exchanges, I request a lot of power imbalance things, and I find I tend to DNW M/F for this. The inherent difference in size and strength (on average) sets the scenario up in a particular direction, not to mention it mirrors real-world power differentials, physical and social, that I don't like in my escapism. (Please only do my power imbalance in the exact way I want, thanks!) But boy, the film is going for that discomfort, the obvious visual contrast between the two leads, and it really works.
Howard is a hard character to read. He's not violent, and he's prepped thoroughly for a disaster, and he's allowing Michelle and a young man named Emmett to share in the fruits of his labor. But he also clearly relishes being the lord of his domain, and quickly loses his temper at what he sees as rebellion. When Michelle flirts with Emmett a bit, Howard flies into a rage. (Later, Howard says it was always meant to be just him and Michelle down there—which pings some suspicion for sure.) When he takes her on a tour of the space, even normal domestic requests like "use a coaster for the table" take on an unsettling tone, underscored by our uncertainty about what's really going on out there and his true intentions. Despite being trapped down here by an unexpected global disaster, he seems entirely ready for the situation, almost like this is exactly what he's been hoping for all along, and now things are finally going the way he wanted.
He also withholds information with Michelle, and often mentions someone called "Megan" without elaborating. At first we wonder if Megan was his wife, which makes his constant comparisons between her and Michelle feel sinister and threatening. (When we find out Megan was his daughter, that doesn't make things much better—and instead casts his controlling tendencies in a different light.) He has Michelle dress in Megan's old clothes, and even makes horrifying comments like, "Megan was a good cook. You'll learn to love cooking too." He has a very specific vision for the role she'll play, trapped down here for the next undefined interval. (But why does he have his daughter's clothes down here? Why does he have sedatives? Why?)
One thing he repeatedly states is that Michelle could show a little gratitude for his saving her life. When Michelle does thank him, halfheartedly, he gets this tiny smile on his face, truly pleased, like this simple courtesy was all he was looking for. (Have I mentioned the acting is really phenomenal?) As long as she plays along, he'll be nice. If she tries to deviate, he loses his temper. Something about being molded by someone with more power than you into a specific box, a particular script in their head that they want you to follow—it's just so uncomfortable for me, and so effective for what the film sets out to do.
