Walked downstairs last night to take my dirty dishes to the dishwasher and dad was on the couch watching a very young John Cusack and an even younger Jack Black.
Dad grunted. “No, hang on,” he fumbled for the remote and paused it, “it’s… oh, yeah. High Fidelity.”
“That is literally a Top 5 movie for me.” That was a reference. “I love that movie. I didn’t realize it was streaming.”
“Yeah. It’s alright, I guess.”
I gasped again. “You’ve never seen it?”
“No.” His tone of voice gave away that he was surprised I liked it, and that I was reacting so strongly. I got the impression he was just looking for something to watch.
“Well, I would love to hear your thoughts about it when you’re done.” I put the dishes away and went back upstairs, and soon to bed.
In the morning, I went downstairs after showering and dressing, and dad was making coffee. I got my vitamins, waited for the coffee, nonchalant.
A friend posted this scene to their Insta stories and it made me smile:
I remember that movie! Their caption, though, was: “Anyone else see this and cry thinking about Clerks III?” I realized that I have not seen Clerks III, and I got nostalgic for Kevin Smith movies. I have always lumped them into “stoner humor” but I have never said that disparagingly. Stoner humor is kind but rude, raw, silly about serious things. I adore stoner humor. A mix of sincere and gross that a lot of other flavors of humor just can’t touch.
I resolved then and there to rewatch at least the Clerks trilogy, and include as many other Kevin Smith films I could find online. So it was written, so mote it be, y’all.
Wow did that not really age well. It was rough going back to 1994, for sure. Dante is such a tight-ass and Randall is a huge jerk. Veronica and Caitlyn are definitely women written by (young) men. And the movie feels like it drags when it should be fast. It’s 94 minutes long! Why does it feel slow?
The setup for the plot, though, rings true. Dante (Brian O’Halloran) is called in to his shitty job at a local convenience store to fill in for a missing co-worker. Anyone who’s had a retail or customer service job can relate, and just that plot point is enough to get me reminiscing about working fast food, or shopping mall, or call center jobs and the sheer hostility me and my co-workers had for the customers and the bonds of friendship formed with fellow wage slaves. The stories I could tell…
And that means the best parts, for me, are the side discussions. The things workers would talk about to get our minds away from the servitude we had to enact on behalf of our bosses and at the hands of our customers. Particularly in tech support, we would recognize conversations like the famous “Death Star II contractors” scene in Clerks where Randall (Jeff Anderson) tries to make the case that the leftist rebels killed innocent plumbers and roofers. Less well-known (or at least, less well-remembered by me) is the response where a random customer interjects that roofers do, in fact, have personal politics and that they are making a political and moral choice to work for known bad actors. Glad to see Kevin Smith undercutting one of his characters’ apolitical stances.
The shenanigans involving Dante disregarding his current girlfriend, Veronica (Marilyn Ghigliotti) and pining over his ex-girlfriend Caitlin (Lisa Spoonauer), I did not find charming now and I vaguely recall being put off by it in 1994, as well, although back in the day I was more inclined to think I was the one out of step with the times; Dante’s prudishness about what his girlfriend did matched the attitudes my other male friends displayed back then. It was a different time, y’all, for sure.
It was a rough start for a filmmaker but there is still a core identity here: the working-class humor and frustration of working bad low-paying jobs. That’s what I connected with back then, and that’s the part I still resonate with today. In retrospect, I would give this a solid 3 out of 5 stars.
On the surface, “Annie Hall” (which I saw tonight as part of the Independent Film Revival group’s series on Directing Dysfunction) and another movie I saw this weekend, “Forgetting Sarah Marshall”, are about the same basic thing: love and breaking up.
They both feature men who are still at heart boys, and they are both comedies. Both films make use of improvisational dialogue, and both films were written by their male leads. And while I don’t know this for certain about the more recent film, I think they both have been created with a great deal of autobiography.
But what a difference 30 years have made. In 1977, Woody Allen’s take on male insecurity was a nervous energy. He was constantly touching and grabbing Diane Keaton. He paced, he stuttered, he mocked himself and others. Alvy Singer had an aggressive “come here/go away” dynamic with every woman in the movie; his male friendship, however, with Rob was more uni-directional – Rob was constantly trying to convince Alvy to do something against his nature; move to California and avoid death.
Jason Segel’s Peter, on the other hand, plays a more mellow and unaware insecurity. In fact, to my eyes (and this may say more about me than Peter) doesn’t seem insecure at all in the beginning of the movie. It’s not until later, when he’s in the depths of his depression and he encounters the sympathetic, welcoming, and yet tough force of Mila Kunis’ Rachel that I began to see how uncertain he was. I will always hear Rachel’s encouraging shout of “Whoo! Dracula musical!Yeah!” into an otherwise silent bar whenever I’m afraid of taking a step through the next metaphorical door I encounter. And look how it turned out for Peter.
As far as the comedy goes, the jokes in “Annie Hall” are vaudevillian and fall mostly flat to my ears now. “Forgetting Sarah Marshall” has some rather broad and rather coarse humor, too, but it’s also capable of much more subtle laughs.
I don’t want to turn this into a thesis, though. Just seeing these two movies back to back gave me an opportunity to compare. In the end, I related to the more recent movie far more.
I can’t believe “Annie Hall” won an Oscar. Over “Star Wars”? C’mon.