Hey! You! Yes, you! The one with the dead end monkey's job. The one who slaves away forty hours a week for a slave wage in a convenience store. Guess what? This is your life. No, no, wait . . . this is your life on drugs.
No, that's not right ether, hold up.
This is your life on Kevin Smith's mind.
Yes, Kevin Smith. Thanks to Dogma, those of you in the crowd who don't have IFC probably know what I'm talking about now, right? Yeah, Kev has come along way. Didn't he just do a commercial for Coke? Guess we call that an "Independent Commercial" right?
But in 1994 Smith was just like any of you. He worked his crappy day job, emptied his bank account, maxed out his credit cards, and sold his plasma to make a movie. Why? Just because. Making movies may not be fun, but when you're done, and you get to see that baby up on screen . . . that kicks maximum posterior.
However, the question still remains: is it any good?
Clerks begins with 20-something New Jersey dude named Dante (Brian O'Halloran) falling out of his closet. Dante works at a local Quick Stop, and this is his day off. So, of course, the boss calls.
The entire movie centers on Dante's supposed "day off." We meet his girlfriend, his ex-girlfriend, his best friend (and next door video store clerk) Randal (Jeff Anderson), and the strange, often shady characters that come and go throughout the course of a day. There are no "wacky adventures" (if you don't count Dante and Randal's visit to a wake), there is no Earthshattering revelation. No giant monsters, no invading aliens, just the simple, stupid, pointless lives of two job market slaves.
So the question arises: Why the hell would anyone want to watch this for two hours?
The answer: because it's damn funny. In the same way that The Blair Witch Project scared the shit out of people with it's stark, unblemished normalcy, Clerks gives you the feeling your watching a low budget movie, and, at the same time, peeking in on the boring, normal life of someone. Hell, it was even shot on location, in the Quick Stop Smith himself labored in.
I really shouldn't say "normal" because the events of Clerks are far from normal. Aside from the psycho customers (Smith's revenge for his own tenure as a clerk), there's also rooftop hockey, necrophelia, and relationship advice from Jay and Silent Bob, the friendly neighborhood drug dealers.
Also, there's the dialogue that's become Smith's trademark. Jokes, puns, and gags fly fast and furious, because everyone talks like an English major who's watched too much South Park**. And, yes, people do talk like this. I'm just not sure if life imitated art first, or art imitated life. I'd ask Smith himself, but I doubt even he knows the answer.
Regardless, this is supposed to be a comedy, and its ironic sense of humor gets me right in the kisser. With the outrageously twisted situations Smith puts his characters into, it's hard not to laugh. To say nothing of their dialogue. Name another movie that begs the question, "Were independent contractors killed when the second Death Star blew up? And, if so, were they innocent victims?" This turns into a protracted debate (one of many) between Randal and Dante, and, wonder of wonders, is actually interesting. I mean, who the hell else would think of this crap?
But once you get past that and start to look at the people saying this crap, things start to shake a little. One of the problems with making independent movies is you have to hire your friends. They'll usually work for nothing, or, at the very least, they'll work for chips 'n dip. These people are not actors, and Smith himself has testified that, many times, he directed actors to parrot lines back at him, rather then butcher the lines themselves.
Yet, once again, the showcased normalcy pops up. None of these people are actors. I've never heard of them before (except for Jason Mews, but look who he is), and I probably won't again. So the feeling is that I'm watching a day in the life of one poor, clerk workin' bastard. This is his life, and it's a sad, sad state of affairs. Look upon his suffering, ye mighty, and tremble.
Though, it occurs to me that both Randal and Dante would make excellent additions to Fight Club.
But I'm not supposed to talk about that.
So, see Clerks. Nothing much happens, but nothing ever happened Seinfeld either, and the damn thing is everywhere now. It's funny, got great dialogue, and might just make you treat the convenience store worker you buy gas from everyday with just a little bit more respect (Clerks, not Seinfeld). He may be surly and short-tempered, but he has to deal with stuff like this every day of his life.
Well . . . maybe not stuff like this, but you get the point.
