Directed by Kevin Smith
Running time 113 mins
Certificate 18
Well sing hallelujah for the most anticipated cinematic return of the year.
Do I mean Sigourney Weaver in brown leather for Alien: Resurrection, or John Travolta back with John Woo for Face/Off? Nah, I mean the return of the invincible, the godlike, the magnificent Jay and Silent Bob.
If you don't know who I'm talking about, then you may well be beyond redemption, because you're probably thinking that The Full Monty is an indie-flick, even though it was paid for by a multi-million pound film production arm of a large and respected TV firm. Indie-films, that's real indie-films, are shot on a borrowed bolex with a budget of $23,000 dollars, like Kevin Smith's first cinematic outing, the brilliant Clerks. There he introduced two of the most irrepressible, revolting and screen-enhancing characters ever, drug-dealing sleazebag Jay and his mountainous henchman, the silent Silent Bob. Throughout Clerks Jay ran around, trying to make a quick score, impress women with his vile banter and make life hell for Quick-E-Stop shop assistant Dante. Silent Bob then strolls in to make the only wise comment of the entire film, then strolls out. Total film stealers.
Next they become blundering, Star Wars fixated anti- establishment goons in Mallrats, with Bob yet again saving the day. Now they're here again, goofing off in the name of, well, goofing off and by criminey, they could slack in the Olympics.
Admittedly, they don't turn up for the first hour and a half, but it's a Kevin Smith, so there's still more than enough to watch.
Although he remains far from predictable, Kevin Smith is following in the grand tradition of true American auteurs in that he has developed, within three films, certain predictable hallmarks. First of all, nothing really happens, beyond character evolution. Secondly his fantastic grasp of dialogue. Thirdly, like David Lynch, he's built up a good, solid stable of acting and production talent that keeps cropping up. Jason Lee, best known as Brodie from Mallrats, is back along with Brian O'Halloran (Clerks' Dante) in a cameo plus the mighty Jason Mewes and Smith himself as Jay and Silent Bob. Behind the camera we have long-time collaborators David Klein and Scott Mosier back as director of photography and producer respectively while Soul Asylum's Dave Pirner, who contributed tracks to both of Smith's earlier works, produces the soundtrack. It seems that having a comfortable working relationship with his cast and crew agrees with Smith, in the same way that it has added a certain obvious on-screen ease to fellow East Coaster Woody Allen's movies. Smith even goes as far as to cast his former girlfriend and muse, Joey Lauren Adams, in the quasi-titular role.
Quasi-titular, you say. How does that work?
Well, Ben Affleck plays Holden, writer and artist of the new hit underground comic Bluntman And Chronic. One night, he and his room-mate and inker, Banky, go to a convention, where they are introduced by a friend to Alyssa, a fellow comics creator. Holden develops an immediate crush on her, but there's two serious impediments to their burgeoning relationship. She's a lesbian and he's not a woman. Doesn't stop them becoming friends though and eventually much more.
This is all carried through with Smith's normal verve for dialogue. He is now master of the conversational set piece, such as the legendary Death Star sub-contractors debate, or the snowball argument, and continues to prove his worth here. Trust me, you'll be quoting the Star Wars as a racist tract rant, the Jaws sexual injury contest, the "but it's a nice kind of painful" speech and the anti-inkers diatribe for months to come. It's all done with that kind of happy speed that we've come to expect, until unanticipated disaster strikes. While Holden can handle everything that Alyssa has told him about her past, a few facts that she hasn't mentioned come up that he can't deal with. The question that dominates the film is whether he can overcome his doubts, or whether he will bring everything crashing around their ears, ruining every relationship that he and they hold dear.
It's almost inevitable that this movie is going to come in for some criticism, because it's being sold as a movie by a straight guy, about a straight guy that goes out with a lesbian. Immediate controversy territory, right? The fundamentalists are going to complain that it's going to legitimize amoral lifestyles, there'll be gay pressure groups claiming that it presents a message that homosexuals can be straightened by heterosexual experiences: it's a minefield, right?
To people that hold this view, I'd like to take a moment to quote Kevin Smith on that very subject: have you seen the fucking movie? It doesn't say that all every lesbian really needs is a good man. It's about one woman, one man and their relationship which, coincidentally, fails: it's not a manifesto.
As per usual, it's one of those times where the criticism may well be something to do with false advertising. Chasing Amy is not about sexual relationships between straights and gays: it's about expectations in relationships, and the ability to come to terms with who your partner is, rather than who they were. Alyssa has been prepared to throw away all that she thought she wanted to remain true to herself, yet Holden can't get past what she was once: that's where the true heartbreak of this film lies. During yet another brilliant Smith-penned speech, Adams explains that she is not simply a cliched lesbian, fulfilling all of Banky's stereotypes, but a person that wasn't prepared to limit her options in life or in sex. It's the false expectations put upon her by the straight and gay communities that can be the only truly damaging influences. This is an idea should be explained to and understood by everyone, but that will probably have great resonance amongst some bisexuals, a sexual attitude that has taken a lot of flack from all sides.
In that way, it's one of the most pro-sexual liberation movies in recent years, and one of the most deeply human. With Lee's superbly observed Banky hanging around like a pen-wielding Sibyl, permanently crying disaster for his buddy, and Alyssa's friends criticizing her as a sell-out, Smith makes some very serious points about the nature of love and of relationships. It's one of those rare moments where the hype line ("It's not who you love. It's how.") really sums up the film.
It all adds up to Smith's most mature work so far, replacing the teen-angst of Clerks and the fairytale romance of Mallrats with a sense of adult loss. It's worth the price of admission for Silent Bob's explanation of the title, in one of the most moving speeches since Darth asked Luke to take his mask off. True, it is a very male movie, in some basic peeing upright kind of way, but since Smith is a man, it's hard to criticize him for going with what he knows. But what makes him such a great director is that he can dismantle and examine the less admirable aspects of the male psyche without looking like an apologist.
The great question is, with his New Jersey trilogy complete, what will Smith do now? He's such a distinctive voice that it would be a shame if he got buried in the studios, but he is still determined to produce a superhero movie. Actually, it's the only thing he talks about in interviews anymore. His constant whining about Batman And Robin and his rejected Superman Lives script is becoming a bit of a scratched record, so it might be nice if he just got it out of his system. There's even rumors floating around that he might take a side-step into comics with a brief spell writing Marvel's Daredevil. Mercifully, with his spoof on organized religion, Dogma, in the pipeline, we're due at least one more outing for Jay and Silent Bob. Hell, the man could retire after that for all we care. He'll have done more than enough to ensure slacker godhood.
RMW