Why I Still Care About Kevin Smith
A few years ago I wrote a piece about how the critically maligned film Glass made me rediscover my love of the work of M. Night Shyamalan. In it, I talked about how a lot of the things that some people couldn’t stand about M. Night (his occasionally bizarre dialogue, his big narrative swings, his tonal inconsistencies) were the very elements that endeared his films to me. M. Night taught me that you can acknowledge an artist’s imperfections while simultaneously reveling in them. He’s a solid technical filmmaker, no better or worse than many of his peers, but that’s not what moves me about his work. It’s the hyper-specific oddity that he brings to every film he makes, the parts of himself that he cannot (and should not) deny. From the Yahtzee scene in The Visit to the family dinner in Signs, my favorite Shyamalan moments are so singular to his vision: a little disquieting, a little goofy, but undeniably emotional.
The difference between Kevin Smith and M. Night Shyamalan is that Kevin doesn’t have an Unbreakable, a Sixth Sense. The closest he came was 1997’s Chasing Amy, which excelled more as a display of raw emotion than a piece of technical filmmaking. Every film he’s made, including that one, has had its share of flaws and imperfections. And yet they all contain elements that are wonderful, things that could have only come from his mind, imagination, and experience. Even the films of his that I’ve flat-out disliked have had elements that I’ve admired. But what I admire most of all is Kevin himself. This is one case where, for me, the films are inseparable from the filmmaker.
Kevin’s work used to be deeply personal. Clerks and Chasing Amy are both autobiographical, albeit fictionalized, and they’re commonly considered to be his finest work. I don’t think that’s a coincidence. Even Dogma, the most fantastical movie in his filmography, was his way of processing the impact of his Catholic upbringing and his shifting views on religion. I’ve long suspected that Jay and Silent Bob Strike Back was based in Kevin’s apprehension about being swallowed up by the Hollywood machine and having his art be compromised by commerce. In 2006, Kevin made his most emotionally direct film to date, Jersey Girl. It was a movie about discovering what it meant to be a father and the boundless love that Kevin felt for his own newborn daughter. Pretty much everybody hated it, fans and critics alike. In the work that followed, Clerks II included, the filmmaker kept himself at arm’s length. He began to write about characters that were clearly divorced from his own experience. He couldn’t even relate to Dante and Randal, the eponymous Clerks, anymore. And none of this is conjecture. Kevin said it himself, following the disappointing box office of his 2008 film Zack and Miri Make a Porno.
“There had been a weird confluence of events. I thought I was breaking down after the failure to make $60 million, which is what I had hoped ‘Zack And Miri’ would do, but what I was really confronting was the notion that I can’t be the same filmmaker I was 15 years prior. I’m not in touch with the person I write about anymore. It’s been years since I paid my own bills or lived with my parents. I thought, ‘Oh I’m sad that “Zack And Miri” didn’t do well’ but really I’m sad because I shouldn’t even have made ‘Zack And Miri’ because I’m beyond it now. Not that I’m too good for it but that one happened all too easily. The script came out so fast, and we were done with the movie so fast. Now there’s nothing wrong with that, but the world I came from? My world was about digging my fingers into my chest, pulling open my cavity, pulling out a big chunk of fatty heart tissue, slapping it on a platter, putting another one on it and slapping it onto a projector. I didn’t just make movies, I put my heart and soul into them.”
Now, I happen to love Zack and Miri, and Clerks II as well. They’re movies that are written with a lot of humor and tenderness, and they are still heartfelt. The only real difference is that they are fiction, pure and simple. Kevin filmed Clerks in the Quick Stop where he worked, using his friends as actors and sometimes pulling his dialogue from things they actually said. He began Clerks II by setting the store on fire, and then transplanted Randal and Dante to a goofy fast food restaurant so that hijinks could ensue. It feels real when they’re screaming at each other, but the rest of it is a fever dream. Seriously, we are meant to accept that Rosario Dawson is in love with, and super attracted to, one of Kevin Smith’s weird friends, and she is such a great actress that she sells the hell out of it. It must be seen to be believed. No offense, Brian.
Right in-between his ill-fated buddy cop comedy and his movie about a podcaster who gets turned into a walrus Kevin released Red State, and it is an outlier, a return to emotion-driven expression. Clerks and Chasing Amy were complex movies bred of frustration, sadness, and love in equal measure. Red State, on the other hand, is all about anger. It is a screed against the Westboro Baptist Church, a Hate group that, somewhat democratically, seems to hate just about everyone except themselves. They are most famous for their rampant homophobia, though that’s just the tip of the shitberg as it were. It is deeply satisfying to watch as Kevin enacts cinematic revenge upon these profoundly unlikable bigots, particularly the moment where he gives himself a cameo just to have a chance to scream “shut the fuck up!” at his proxy Fred Phelps. If Kevin had gotten a chance to film his original ending, with the Four Horsemen of the Apocalypse blazing across the sky to signal the commencement of the rapture, I think that the film could have stood among his very best. Instead it will have to settle for being the most underrated film in his distinguished ouvre.
In 2018, Kevin had a heart attack. In 2022, Randal had one as well. Both share the same story: they were unable to catch their breath, in no real pain, taken to the hospital against their will, only to be told that they were having a massive cardiac event. It was a “widowmaker”, a complete blockage, with a survival rate of 20%. Kevin and Randal both endured, but both were deeply shaken by the experience. The year before, Kevin had completed the script for Clerks III. It took the goofiness of the second film even farther: It would begin with the store being destroyed again, this time by Hurricane Sandy. Randal, who had been driven insane by the event, would construct “a lean-to version of Quick Stop, like a bodega shanty-town” behind a movie theater and become the mayor of the parking lot. Though it sounds promisingly bizarre in a Mad Max Beyond Thunderdome-esque way, Jeff Anderson (aka Randal) turned the script down. It wasn’t worth leaving retirement for. At the time, Jeff seemed like something of a villain, robbing us all of our wonderful new Clerks adventure. But he was right, and after his heart attack Kevin started from scratch.
First came Jay and Silent Bob Reboot, a nostalgia tour full of cameos and old faces and beloved comedians performing schtick. Most of the time it was funny enough to get by, though I’ll admit to an occasional cringe. What really struck me were the moving moments between Kevin’s best friend, Jason Mewes, and his daughter, Harley Quinn Smith. Jason plays her long absent father, a man desperate to reconnect with a child who may or may not be ready to forgive him. There are scenes between them where they both tap into something powerful and real, where all the jokes about shitting in Ubers and distracting klansmen with the Coffee is for Closers speech from Glengarry Glen Ross fall away. In those few precious moments you’re left with Smith’s most genuine work in years. Those scenes, special as they seemed at the time, were just hinting at what would come next.
Clerks III’s trailer, slick as it was, did a tremendous disservice to the film. It was full of cameos, goofiness, callbacks… and listen, all of that stuff is in the movie, but there’s also a hell of a lot more to discover here. This is not a greatest hits reel like Jay and Silent Bob Reboot. This is a film where, like Randal, Kevin Smith comes back from the brink of death to rediscover his passion, his love of expression and his voice. Clerks III is not some shallow retread of the first film, nor is it a fantastical departure like Clerks II. It is a film about growing older, about contending with mortality, about learning to live with pain and disappointment. I laughed a lot during this film, but when I left that theater I felt a weight that I couldn’t deny. Kevin had the courage, for the first time in a long time, to leave his audience thinking.
As I was watching Dante’s final monologue, experiencing the power of Kevin’s words and Brian O’Halloran’s performance, my eyes filled with some strange liquid. Could it be tears? Yeah right, like a 2022 Kevin Smith comedy could ever make me cry. It’s just pollen. Lots of pollen in here. The few harrowing minutes that followed did nothing to alleviate those feelings. Clerks II featured a scene like this, where the two friends went at each other unrelentingly for minutes on end, but at the end of that scene they’d reconcilled, professed their mutual love and decided to buy the Quick Stop together. At the end of their fight in Clerks III you just have to sit with it.
Sometimes life doesn’t wrap itself up in a neat little package. Sometimes the passage of time can help us to overcome the hardships we’re made to endure, and sometimes we have no choice but to sit back and think, “wow, the world’s kinda fucked up sometimes.” That’s the feeling that Clerks III left me with. And yet, no spoilers, as the film resolved I felt a sense of peace as well. I got the feeling that Kevin had figured a few things out, that he might just be able to achieve his own version of immortality. Treat the people you care about well, because every interaction could be the last. And then, when it’s all said and done, maybe those same people will do you the honor of keeping your name and your spirit alive, for a little while at least. I think it’s a real nice message. Not a big deal. Lots of pollen in here.
In recent years it’s become harder and harder for me to justify my loyalty to Kevin Smith. Red State and Tusk both started out strong only to trip and fall long before they could attempt to stick the landing. Jay and Silent Bob Reboot was wildly inconsistent in its tone and the quality of its humor. Yoga Hosers is, flat out, one of my least favorite films by any filmmaker. And yet every time a new project has been announced I have been there with bells on, because I knew Kevin had this in him. I knew his potential, his skill as a writer, his tremendous capacity for empathy. Eventually he would make something beautiful again, and… he did. Clerks III might just be his best, most affecting work since Chasing Amy. It’s certainly his most personal film since Jersey Girl. And like all of his best work it’s goofy and sincere, broad and character-driven all at once. Kevin’s artistry is defined by wild juxtapositions. They’re a huge part of what makes his work unique and special, and I wouldn’t have it any other way.
Even if Clerks III hadn’t worked I still would have continued to be there for Kevin and his work for years to come. I would have suffered through whatever dreck he fed me. Why? Because I believe in him as a person, and an artist. Kevin has always been a deeply inspirational figure to me. He started with literally nothing and accomplished so much. He’s been able to live the “art life,” as David Lynch would say, for nearly as long as I’ve been alive through sheer force of personality and will. And he didn’t just settle for personal accomplishment either. He brought all of his friends along on the journey, and he didn’t rest until he’d enhanced all of their lives as well. He’s always been an incredibly generous and compassionate person, and regardless of how you feel about his filmmaking, it's hard to deny how admirably he has conducted himself. Plus he’s a hell of a raconteur and gives the best Q&A’s around, and that counts for something.
Clerks III is a perfect conclusion to the View Askewniverse, the scattershot narrative that Kevin’s been building across his films since 1994, and I do hope that he’s done exploring that plane of existence. It’s time to leave well enough alone. Clerks III would be a fantastic final film in general, if he wanted to pack it in. But, very happily, Kevin’s got many more films to come, and hopefully his newfound passion will continue to drive his work for the rest of his years. Still, the reflective nature of this particular film caused me to think back on all of Kevin’s work, and how even his most divisive films have so much to admire:
I love Jersey Girl for its tenderness and its artistic ambition. I love Zack and Miri for that trademark blending of seemingly incompatible elements, that seamless mix of wholesomeness and perversity. I love Cop Out for giving Tracey Morgan a role he could sink his teeth into, and for Kevin’s clear affection for Bruce Willis (particularly his work on Moonlighting). I love Red State and Tusk for giving Michael Parks the opportunity to do the work of his career, and for Kevin’s increasing command of atmosphere and tension. I love Yoga Hosers for… well, okay, I don’t love Yoga Hosers. Let’s not go nuts here. But I do quasi-appreciate it for being the weirdest fucking movie in Kevin’s filmography by a significant margin. He plays an army of sentient Nazi bratwurst in it so, uh… points for creativity?
The point is that I have a lot of affection for Kevin’s work, but I’m not an apologist. I don’t think Cop Out and Jersey Girl are great cinema, but I also don’t understand why the critical reaction to them was so vitriolic. I loved aspects of Red State and Tusk with all my heart, but I’m still not comfortable recommending them unreservedly. Even Clerks III has plenty of moments that didn’t connect with me, but when it hit me it did it hard. Being a Kevin Smith fan isn’t always smooth sailing but I’ve never considered abandoning him, because I know what he’s capable of. Not only has he grown significantly as a filmmaker since 1994, his friends have evolved right along with him. Brian O’Halloran and Jeff Anderson rose to the challenge in this film in a pretty remarkable way, selling the hell out of most of their emotional beats and bringing effective new dimensions to their shopworn characters. Kevin likes to say that if he can be a filmmaker anyone can, and he’s right. But Kevin had the courage, the will, the talent and the vision to make it happen, and I respect the hell out of that. And besides, he’s just a really nice guy. I’m so glad that he’s alive.
Also, if you’re wondering why I never mentioned Mallrats… I’ve never seen it, okay? I’ll get around to it. Leave me alone.