Clerks iii

Even if you don’t believe a third Clerks movie was entirely necessary, it’s hard not to feel an emotional tug. The original, which launched Kevin Smith as the reigning Jersey slacker-auteur of 90s cinema, remains one of the quintessential Gen X indies; a scabrously funny yet surprisingly sweet-natured comedy that found a way to transcend its obvious amateur limitations. For those who’ve been with the “View Askewniverse” from the very beginning, the Clerks films have become like cinematic inflection points; we haven’t just hung out with Dante and Randal over these past 28 years… we’ve literally grown up alongside them.    

In a startlingly grim turn-of-events (grimmer, perhaps, than the film is ultimately equipped to deal with), we learn that Dante’s happily-ever-after at the end of Clerks II was scuppered after his pregnant girlfriend Becky (Rosario Dawson) was killed by a drunk driver… leaving him to persist with his Sartre-like existence at the Quick Stop (he co-owns the business, but - on the other hand - he’s still scraping gum out of the shutter locks, even though he’s pushing 50). Not much has changed over the years - he brews the coffee every morning and hosts the occasional game of street hockey on the store roof, while Jay and Silent Bob have transformed the now-defunct video store next door into an amateur weed dispensary (but still spend most of their time hanging curbside). But when Randal suffers a near-fatal heart attack (a nod to Smith’s own real-life brush with death), Dante encourages him to make a movie… and before you can nod and whisper the word “meta” with a knowing smirk, Randal’s cranked out an autobiographical script, directly based on his own misadventures as a convenience store clerk over the years.

The most remarkable thing about Smith as a filmmaker these days is that he’s all but lost his comedic fastball (his once potent punchlines now rarely top 85 MPH)… yet he remains more keenly attuned to the emotional nuances of his projects than ever. Clerks III is a much better effort than the largely unwatchable Jay and Silent Bob Reboot (in the early days, the charm of Silent Bob was that he only spoke when he actually had something worth expressing; now he’s basically a spastic mime) - yet even that movie found a credible way to justify its own existence. For a director who was primarily known as a poet laureate of the profane (who can forget the explanation of the term “snowballing” in the first Clerks?), Smith has noticeably mellowed. He now feels most at ease when ruminating - with unironic sincerity - on Generation X’s surly (yet not-entirely-unwelcome) transition into middle age.       

There are some decent meta gags. Dante frets over Randal’s callous decision to have his character shot and killed by a robber - the original ending of Clerks (“What if there’s a sequel?” Dante asks. “What am I - a hack?” Randal scoffs). Silent Bob, signing on as the project’s unlikely DP, notes that contriving to keep the front shutters closed will allow them to shoot at night, but pretend that it’s still daytime (the same trick Smith used when filming the first movie). An amusing audition sequence features cameos from the likes of Ben Affleck, Sarah Michelle Gellar, and Danny Trejo as would-be actors for Randal to cast. Pop culture references still mostly land (Randal taunts the Jesus-loving Elias by claiming he only answers to Conan the Barbarian’s God Crom). But the savage wit that once galvanized Smith’s writing (and made his spotty grasp of cinematic craft tolerable) has waned; most of the jokes have a jocular yet slightly desperate strain about them… as if Smith’s a 50-something dad of diminishing cool trying to show his daughter and her less-than-impressed friends that he hasn’t lost his once risible edge. “That’s how we did things in the 90s, son!” Jay barks early on, in one of quite a few lines that are just a tad too self-aware (on the plus side - depending on your perspective - Smith’s penchant for puerile shock humor appears to have largely run its course… in other words, no stink palms or donkey shows this time).​

But - as was the case with Clerks II - Smith is not operating out of cynical self-indulgence; he’s pulled off the genuinely impressive feat of ensuring that Dante and Randal’s register jockeying journey is worthy of its own cinematic trilogy. Brian O’Halloran and Jeff Anderson were never really talented enough to break out beyond the View Askew oeuvre (and O’Halloran in particular is asked to punch slightly above his dramatic weight here), but the roles fit them like comfortable old clothes. “I’m not even supposed to be here today,” was always Dante’s signature lament, yet here he remains - an ever-present fixture at the Quick Stop, all these years later. There’s a certain comfort in that. The more things change, the more they stay the same… at least in New Jersey.