The geek shall inherit the earth

’m just the right age to remember Clerks as an event – perhaps the event of the mid-90s. Arriving as part of a holy indie trilogy that included Reservoir Dogs and El Mariachi, the movie seemed to promise a new democracy in the medium of film.

Made for $27, 000 cobbled together from maxed out credit cards, and displaying little technical expertise, Clerks proved that successful filmmaking was within the reach of the ordinary video store jockey if the script was good enough. And what a script. Anticipating the superfriend debates that would soon rule the internet, the brilliantly witty patois both hinted at the hyper-society to come and documented the profane preoccupations of a generation.
What could be more important than determining who shot first – Hans or Greedo? Not bloody much. Littered with jokes about homos and fucking the dead, Clerks wowed the burgeoning slacker demographic with its delightfully realistic anti-PC rants. In the persons of Dante (Brian O’Halloran) and Randal (Jeff Anderson), we found heroes for the age. The geeks and the underachievers had finally inherited the Earth. They would make writer-director Kevin Smith a household name and alas, ultimately become something of a millstone around the New Jersey auteur’s neck.
When Mallrats was released in 1995, critics were less interested in the freewheeling innovations of this grungy screwball comedy than in declaring, “It’s not as good as Clerks”. Chasing Amy, a polymorphously perverse romance starring Ben Affleck and Smith’s then girlfriend Joey Lauren Adams, attracted better notices, but again, was dismissed for being “not as good as Clerks”. Every film Mr. Smith has authored since has met with similar equivocation.
So when murmurs about a sequel to the 1994 classic began to percolate through the www, fans were afraid. I was afraid. As it turns out, Kevin Smith was afraid.
“I was fine until a couple of weeks before the shoot,” he tells me. “And suddenly it hit me: ‘What the fuck am I doing?’ Some people really love these characters. It’s like they’ve taken on a life of their own over the past 10 years. And literally two hours before we started filming I had a choice – take a nap or watch the first film again. So I sat down and watched Clerks for the first time in a long time. And God, I was glad I did. It really demystified it for me. I remembered why we made the movie in the first place – to show a bunch of guys sitting around and talking about Star Wars and shit. And guess what we we’re showing in Clerks 2? Same bunch of guys sitting around and talking about Star Wars and shit.”
Fans are overly protective of said guys with good reason. The Smithiverse often feels more like an extended dysfunctional family than a movie cult. The same legendary characters drift in and out of all Smith’s projects – Jay and Silent Bob have appeared in every film except Jersey Girl. They have their own website, comic book and animation series. Smith’s wife and seven year-old daughter are regulars on screen. With inter-textual aplomb, Bluntman And Chronic, the comic book created by Chasing Amy’s Holden and Banky, has made it into stores. Meanwhile, rumours abound that Alanis Morrisette will return for the proposed Dogma sequel or that Loki and Bartleby will get their own spin-off graphic novel.
Mr. Smith clearly loves his creations almost as much as his doting fans. They are, he explains, an extension of himself – a cheap innovative form of therapy. The splendidly obnoxious Randal was, at the time of writing Clerks, Smith’s Freudian id. Since then, the goalposts have moved.
“Of all the characters I’ve written, Randal is my absolute favourite,” explains the director. “When I started out I was closer to Dante, but over the years I’ve become closer to what Randal is. I don’t know why, because Dante is the one who is now thinking about marriage and babies, but Randal is, underneath it all, a dreamer, and like most guys – like me anyway – he doesn’t like shit to change. And we’ve both viewed Brazilian fart porn, so that’s a special bond.”
Happily, Randal and Dante’s return is an absolute triumph. Even the audience at Cannes felt obliged top provide an eight-minute standing ovation as the final credits rolled. Featuring donkey-fucking (or ‘interspecies erotica’ as the film has it) and fights between Star Wars and Lord Of The Rings nerds (“It’s walking to a volcano for three fucking movies,” shouts Randal) it presses all the right buttons. Fans will be additionally thrilled to learn that Jason Mewes is back from rehab and heroin addiction to assume arse-flashing duties as Jay.
“I really wanted to make a film about being in my thirties,” says Kevin. “I tried to do that with Jersey Girl but it didn’t work out. I loved that movie but I know it’s a bit sentimental and mawkish in places. So I wanted to do something more realistic this time. And because Randal and Dante were my proxies when I was in my twenties, they felt like the best place to go.”
For most folks, Clerks 2 is a Return To Form movie, particularly in the wake of the much-maligned Jersey Girl. I wonder if it bothers Smith that nobody is interested in his attempts to reinvent himself as a mature filmmaker? Jersey Girl was a deeply personal film inspired by Smith’s own experiences as a father. Clerks 2 features conversations about ass-to-mouth action. Is it okay that he’s the ass-to-mouth guy?
“Well, yeah,” he nods. “It’s a weird thing. I think the scene in Clerks 2 between Randal and Dante in the jail cell is the most emotional scene I’ve ever done. It’s totally over the top. But that doesn’t bother people when there’s no strings on the soundtrack and Jason is there to call them fags. I guess it’s all about presentation.”
Unfortunately not everyone has been enchanted by the prospect of comical bestiality. At a recent screening in New York, Good Morning America’s film critic Joel Siegel ostentatiously stormed off, loudly declaring it the first time he’d walked out on a film in 30 years. The incident is fairly typical. Smith has spent his career walking a tightrope between pleasing die-hard fans and the critics. And the truth is, he generally has more luck emolliating the former. He’s not, however, too down on the press. He did, after all, marry Jennifer Schwalbach, the USA Today journalist sent to interview him in 1999.
“It seems like every year critics decide to gang up on someone,” Kevin sighs. “This year, M. Night Shyalaman is really taking it in the ass. Two years ago, when Jersey Girl came out, it was my turn. Joel Siegel leaving is pretty minor compared to that shit. I think he should have displayed some courtesy towards the other people in the screening, but mostly, I’m happy about it. I was starting to think I’d lost my touch.”
Today, sitting with him in Edinburgh’s Caledonian Hotel, Kevin is jolly and articulate despite staying to answer fans’ post-premiere questions until 2.30am the previous night. Such selfless accessibility is far from uncharacteristic. Kevin’s blog at View Askew is updated daily. He tours colleges in the US, making time for the weird and obsessive wherever he goes.
“Yeah, there’s no point stalking me,” he says. “I’m everywhere. It just takes all the fun out of it. If you can come see me on a college tour or in my comic book store or read my blog everyday, there’s no point going through my garbage. What’s left that you don’t know?”
Doesn’t Mrs. Smith get upset with him for divulging all manner of personal details on the net?
“Yeah,” he grimaces. “That has caused a little friction around the home. You know, we have that discussion that a lot of writers seem to have with their partners – it’s not just your life, it’s our life. So sometimes when I’m writing about our sexual proclivities and stuff, she gets upset. But I’ve been doing this shit forever. Too old to change my ways now.”
For all the devotees who would make him king, Smith is a remarkably modest fellow. Unaffected by celebrity, he spends most of his time sitting at home surfing the net or watching TV. He still potters down to his comic book store to serve behind the counter. He continues to reside in the Garden State and displays a militant affection for the place. And in person, he’s such an absolute sweetheart I start feeling horribly guilty about the critical kicking I once administered to Dogma.
“I can still go to the mall,” says Kevin. “And if I’m walking around for the day maybe 10 or 12 people will come up and say, ‘Hey, aren’t you Silent Bob?’ and we’ll chat for a couple of minutes and go our separate ways and everybody’s happy. I can still live a normal life and I’m real glad of it. I’ve seen stuff with Ben (Affleck) and I just don’t know how he goes on. He literally can’t leave the house. You see all these chicks who want to fuck him just because he’s Ben Affleck. Come to think of it, all the filmmakers I know have chicks wanting to fuck them as well. All except me. I came to the conclusion some time ago that either all my fans view me as a brother figure or I’m so physically repugnant that nobody could bear to take my cock in their mouth.”
He laughs.
“I’m not saying I’d be interested but it’d be nice to know I had offers.”