Much ado was made in recent months about the cryptic monster movie from television golden boy JJ Abrams

However, “Cloverfield” is most shocking in that the real nightmare is not the towering amalgam of a dinosaur and a sea monster but instead a posse of narcissistic yuppies who abide by the motto of the YouTube generation: If you don’t catch it on camera, it didn’t really happen.

Take, for instance, a scene where the creature dismembers the head of the Statue of Liberty, which then embarks on a Manhattan-sized game of pinball.

Personally, I might consider, ya know, running. But this is not the world of “Cloverfield,” in which onlookers can’t resist whipping out their cell phones to capture the moment.

I expected someone to yell, “Don’t forget to tag me,” in hopes of documentation in a photo and then boom – whack-a-moled.

This is when the Abrams vehicle is at its best, as a proverbial backhand to our inability to exist outside the vacuum of social networking.

You’ll notice I haven’t mentioned the names of any character. Each is so one-dimensional and flimsy they take on satirical proportions and don’t warrant further examination.

When the billed suspense-fest bucks its atypical approach for more formulaic jump-out-of-your-seat gags, there isn’t enough investment for us to care if they become a late night snack.

By divulging so little about the monster, “Cloverfield” maintains a relative level of suspense initially, but when the ultimate confrontation occurs, I couldn’t shake a Seinfeldian comparison.

It’s as if the monster were Jerry’s girlfriend, the one who was only attractive in a certain light inside the diner. Well, my verdict after closer examination – not so horrifying – slight misnomer for a supposed monster flick.

By shooting the film like a home movie, it heightens a real-time, almost spontaneous feeling and draws less attention to a plot as calculated as most Hollywood fare.

The brute can take down the Brooklyn Bridge but can’t muster the strength to destroy a video camera? Perhaps I’m nitpicking, but really?

At a running time of 84 minutes, it plays a bit like an extension of Abrams’ helmed television series, (“Lost” and “Alias”) which might be acceptable if it didn’t aspire for so much more.

But with sometimes gut-busting social commentary and technical splendor, it can’t be dismissed as mere diversionary entertainment.

In a post-Sept. 11 world, ash filled New York streets with leaning skyscrapers take on a level of eeriness no bumbling creature can approach.

Go figure, all this from a monster flick.