Why doesn't the monster turn up ten minutes earlier so we don't have to spend any longer listening to the witless yammerings of a bunch of personality-challenged twenty-somethings than is absolutely necessary?Why, if Hud has been carrying a torch for Marlena, doesn't it occur to him that he'll earn some serious brownie points by putting the camera down and his arm protectively around her?
Why does Hud become an accomplished camera-man during the quieter, more intimate moments, yet prove utterly useless at composition and focus when there's actually something visual happening?
And why does he have such an acute knack for product placement?
Why couldn't there have been a script polish, so that the endless variations on "Rob! Rob! Fuck, man, where you going? Rob! Jesus, dude, did you see that?" were replaced with either erudite dialogue or blessed silence?
Why, during the scene in the military facility, does no-one ever say "Son, give me the camera" and follow it up with the butt of a rifle to the face?
Why, with the monster laying waste to the city, does everyone stop to loot 36-inch widescreen TVs from an electrical goods shop instead of hotwiring the hottest models at a Mercedes dealership, putting the pedal down and making a decent stab at getting out alive?
Why didn't it end with ...
SPOILER ALERT
... that poignant, almost poetic image of the camera unable to focus on Hud's face as he lies dead in front of the very gizmo he's clung onto the whole time ...
SPOILER ENDS
... instead of lumbering on for another ten minutes as the melodrama and cliches pile up?
Why, faced with the inevitable prospect of a 'Cloverfield' sequel, do I find myself hoping that the camcorder-wielder this time around will be a White House intern capturing grainy footage of a big scaly monster stepping on Dubya's head?
Go, monster, go.
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