Clerks II: Over the Counter, Not the Top

Joel Siegel's highly-publicized condemnation of Kevin Smith's Clerks II at a recent press screening can be called at best naive, at worst melodramatic. Yelling in a packed theater that you're offended by raucous humor in a Kevin Smith film is like walking out on the first day of medical school because you're terrified of blood. Frank discussions of genitals, bodily excretions, depraved acts and creative coitus are the benchmarks of Smith's genre, and one reason devoted fans (myself included) have been awaiting this film for their next fix. Granted, Smith lays the raunch on thick in this anticipated sequel, including a now-infamous, er, climax involving bestiality - or rather, "interspecies erotica." But bondage gear and donkey sex are par for the course, a congenital part of the boundary-slashing content that lifted Smith from Quik Stop clerk to cult idol and film marketing innovator.

If anything, the writer/director had to add bestiality to the mix just to top the first installment. As fans of the film will recall, Clerks ends with the protagonist's ex-girlfriend having sex with a corpse in a convenience store bathroom. By contrast, the sequel's equine intercourse scene is surprisingly tame (and includes a twist that reduces its offensiveness ranking, at least for female viewers). But if this sort of humor isn't your cup of tea, no need to throw a fit; find an inner happy place for 97 minutes (which should be a required skill for any film critic, to lower the risk of psychosis induced by crappy movie overexposure), then go home and pan the movie to your heart's content. Don't cause a ruckus and spoil it for the debauched, Hell-bound masses actually enjoying this smut.

Siegel's squeamishness isn't impossible to understand; nearly everything about Clerks II is bigger than the original, from its level of profanity to the waistlines of its male leads. The plot follows the original's basic formula, documenting another day in the life of consummate slackers Dante Hicks (Brian O'Halloran) and Randal Graves (Jeff Anderson). But twelve years have passed, and the boys are still writhing in the winter of minimum-wage discontent, this time at Mooby's, Smith's mythical recurring fast food joint. Dante and Randal haven't aged well; they lumber through each scene, their bloated faces and polyester-clad bellies (courtesy of purple Mooby's uniforms) filling the screen like giant technicolor Rorschach tests. Randal, adorable in the first film despite a mini-mullet and a knack for deliberate callousness, now looks pasty and pock-marked, with his acerbic wit sharpened to scalpel-precision. He lays the scorn on thicker and takes the insults to new levels, unafraid to spit out racial and homophobic slurs. Dante's character, by contrast, hasn't changed a bit, still wanting what he can't have and complaining about problems he created for himself. The softest and most endearing of the Mooby's crew is newcomer Elias (Trevor Fehrman), a nineteen-year-old Christian fundamentalist whose sunny innocence (and accompanying sexual repression) provide the perfect foil for Randal's jagged edges. Their interaction leads to the funniest sequences in the film, including a discussion of abstinence that belongs in the archives of comic genius.

Actually, the only things smaller about Clerks II are the women. Dante's new love interests are the underfed and over-aerobicized Emma (Jennifer Schwalbach, Smith's real-life wife upgraded from her role as Missy in Jay & Silent Bob Strike Back) and the equally-tiny Becky (Rosario Dawson), the Mooby's manager. Both women flash their whitened teeth and Hollywood breasts (literally, in one instance), while inexplicably falling for a whiny underachiever with unfortunate facial hair. Their tight jeans and starlet looks are a long way from sweet and mousy Veronica (Marilyn Ghigliotti), who brought Dante lasagna before her sorority meeting and endured his conniptions about her oral sex history, or flirtatious Caitlin (Lisa Spoonhauer) who dumped the Asian Design major. Smith likes his women scrawny; from Claire Forlani to Shannon Elizabeth, he's made it clear what type of actress he'll cast with the help of studio backing. Dawson, however, is a wise choice for Becky, cover-girl face or no. Despite the inherent absurdity of a woman with her looks flipping burgers, she slides into Smith's irreverent world with an every-girl charm, making lines like "sometimes it's ok to go ass to mouth" sound natural coming from her lips. (Feel free to debate in the comments section).

While Smith admittedly wanted the sequel to address life in his (presumably) more mature '30s, the film reflects a host of issues beyond the common thirty-something concerns of marriage and career building. Randal, always the most self-aware and honest character, provides a voice for Smith's larger themes, including the profundity of male friendship (accompanied by a gay joke, naturally), and the strength required to create a life free of social expectation. Through it all, the writer/director makes sure to sprinkle in trademark rants, topped by a Star Wars versus Lord of the Rings geek showdown. But he never stops giving us reminders of how much his career, and his characters, have been digested in the Hollywood machine (the obligatory and mercifully short Ben Affleck cameo is a prime example).

With a $5 million budget and nationwide distribution by MGM and The Weinstein Company, Clerks II and its creator have come a long way from the original's total budget of $27,000. Smith and his characters have grown up, and they've got the scars to show for it. Ironically, Smith's success seems to have brought him nearly as much angst as Randal and Dante feel after over a decade of failure (or, at least, lack of achievement - failure implies that they tried). Of all the people in Smith's irreverent, strip mall-filled world, Greek Chorus Jay (Jason Mewes, whose ongoing battle with drug addiction has been recounted in Smith's blog) and Silent Bob (Smith) are the sole constants, the only characters who haven't changed since they were first seen leaning against a store window, butchering Morris Day songs and selling dime bags. Perhaps their contentment with their own slacker existence is what Siegel truly found so offensive.

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