Courtesy of Lionsgate
Few movies have aged worse than Clerks II, a 2006 sequel that rehashes the nerdy pop-culture banter of its 1994 predecessor even though it had already become outdated by the time of its release, and which dispenses a steady stream of “edgy” sexual and homophobic jokiness that would be more offensive if it weren’t so embarrassing. To be sure, mores change, but Clerks II is a relic of a barely bygone era in which guys (embodied by Jeff Anderson’s wantonly profane Randall) thought they were transgressively cool by ranting about all manner of obscenities, inappropriateness, and racial slurs. Crude, smug, and—worse still—desperate to push boundaries while simultaneously indulging in squishy man-child bromance, it encapsulates a good bit of what was lame and wrong about the 2000s.
Since Clerks II functioned as a half-assed paean to not growing up, it’s no surprise to discover that Clerks III (Sept. 13, in theaters) is a similarly stuck-in-the-past endeavor. Kevin Smith’s latest entry in his View Askewniverse takes a page from Jay and Silent Bob Strike Back and Jay and Silent Bob Reboot by taking a self-conscious detour into navel-gazing. It’s an idea that’s as tired as Smith’s trademark flat visual compositions, Star Wars chitchat, maudlin melodrama and wannabe-raunchy humor, although at least there’s very little of the verbal ugliness that defined his franchise’s previous chapter. Instead, the focus is on moviemaking—in particular, convenience store workers (and now owners) Dante (Brian O’Halloran) and Randall’s efforts to make a feature film about their lives (which, of course, turns out to be the original Clerks).
The impetus for this project is Randall’s near-death experience courtesy of a heart attack, which makes him realize that his life is going nowhere and he has to do something meaningful with the time he has left—this despite the fact that Clerks II climaxed with him speechifying about the greatness of working at the Quick Stop. Considering his tenure at RST Video, the rental store that’s now been converted into a weed shop operated by perpetual delinquents Jay (Jason Mewes) and Silent Bob (Smith), Randall decides that he’s got the same qualifications to make a movie as Quentin Tarantino famously did, and in a single night, he pens a 168-page script called “Inconvenience” that’s based on his and Dante’s retail careers. Randall has made himself the nominal Luke Skywalker and Han Solo of this saga and relegated Dante to peripheral supporting player, which riles up the forever-goateed Dante, albeit not enough to stop him from serving as producer and hustling up financing from his ex-fiancé Emma (Jennifer Schwalbach).