Clerks and Clerks II: Vulgar Conservatism

This review was published originally on cinekklesia on December 16, 2006.

There's an expression about cynicism that I like: "Scratch a cynic and underneath, you'll find a romantic" (some versions say "disappointed idealist"). I can't help but apply this notion to director Kevin Smith, with the following alteration: "Scratch an antinomian and find a conservative." Smith, the legendary filmmaker known for his vulgar sense of humor, has developed a reputation for bucking conventional, bourgeois morality while simultaneously defending his practice. In 1994, he released Clerks, which garnered him near-instant critical and commercial praise, and in 2006, he released the sequel, Clerks II. Both movies purposefully push the comical envelope, but both also harbor some very conservative messages — though Michael Medved probably won't be praising Kevin Smith anytime soon.

Both movies detail the lives of Dante Hicks (Brian C. O'Halloran) and Randal Graves (Jeff Anderson), two low-paid, frontline workers in the United States' culture of bargain convenience. In the first movie, they were in their early 20's, one working for a local 7-Eleven knockoff, while the other worked next door at an affiliated video store. The film, shot in a wonderfully grainy black-and-white, focused on their antics during a day on which everything seemed to fall apart in Dante's love life. In between scenes of Dante dealing with both his current and ex-girlfriends, we see him having semi-meaningless (or, semi-philosophical, depending your view) conversations with Randal, playing hockey on the roof of the store, getting thrown out of a funeral parlor, and dealing with the New Jersey riffraff who pepper him with stupid questions.

In Clerks II, we fast-forward a decade. Dante and Randal are still working minimum-wage retail (this time, at a fast-food establishment, since their prior workplaces were gutted in a fire), Dante still can't get his act together relationally (this time, with different women), and the customers are just as rude and annoying. Unfortunately, once Kevin Smith became established, he left his initial black-and-white aesthetic in favor of high-budget color films; that is a shame since the cinematography of the first Clerks had an understated charm that Smith has not replicated since.

Of course, as anyone who has seen either film knows, the vulgar jokes fly fast and furious between the counter jockeys and the customers. Thus, any recommendation to see either film is highly conditional. In addition, if you see only one of these films, then check out the first, since the sequel tries too hard to push the proverbial envelope and ends up a little too crude and a little too juvenile.

Nevertheless, despite his vulgarity, Smith does demonstrate a deft sense of humor that is grounded in the obnoxiousness of his characters. The first Clerks, in particular, paints slightly exaggerated (or, completely realistic, depending on your view of New Jersey) portraits that propel each scene to heights of comical absurdity. Smith's portrayals are so funny that one wonders whether his considerable talent could be put to use in a less vulgar fashion. However, as sad as it may seem, Smith's humor seems best suited to the bawdy, and his talent seems to be almost necessarily connected with dirty jokes. Alas.

Yet, despite all the bawdy banter, Smith evinces an underlying (and purposeful) conservatism in both movies. First of all, Dante ends up learning a lesson about personal responsibility. Even though he is, by far, less vulgar and more socially respectable than Randal, he constantly bemoans his fate, hems and haws about the steps that he could take towards a better future, and generally demonstrates a cowardly indecision. Randal, despite his juvenile sensibilities, is fully aware of his position at the bottom of the occupational food chain; however, he doesn't care and actually revels in a life of low achievement — which, after all, facilitates lower stress levels, while encouraging a non-pretentious attitude.

Secondly, it is clear that Kevin Smith places a high value on geographic immobility. While he certainly plays on New Jersey's stereotype as a socially backward state—one that merely houses a long strip of shopping malls and chain stores between New York and Philadelphia—he nevertheless advocates staying put. While Dante feels antsy about his position in life—and, in the second movie, plans to move away to Florida—Randal presents an opposing narrative: he tells Dante that his current status is no accident, that being a clerk—and, one can infer, a clerk in New Jersey—is an intrinsic part of who he is. Running away to Florida won't change that; rather, he should embrace his identity and stay put — with his "own kind," as it were. If Kevin Smith were as antinomian as he superficially seems, then "home" would have no value. However, a friend of mine once opined that good satire is based ultimately on love, and Smith certainly has plenty of that for his home state.

Finally, both Clerks films reveal a near-essentialist search for "true identity" and the "true self" that is far from anarchic. Smith seems to view life as a long series of bawdy, misfit adventures punctuated by glimpses of honesty and truth. Within the boredom and angst of the everyday, Dante learns something about both himself and the previously unknown value of his environs. He realizes that glimmers of beauty can be found within the vulgarity of his life — while glimmers of value can be found in an environment as socially and culturally desolate as New Jersey. (Note that this is not necessarily my view of the Garden State).

In addition, Smith seems to suggest that if one focused on the vulgarity of the two films, then he/she would miss the larger point. Bourgeois morality would dictate that one eschew such crude joking since "good people" don't do that sort of thing. In the process, however, bourgeois morality ends up detracting us from the search for deeper truths since the adherents of said morality spend all of their time worrying about social propriety, rather than the "really important things."

While Smith has a point, it is important to keep in mind that vulgarity can and does have a degrading effect on one's intellectual, emotional, and spiritual life. While bourgeois morality does detract one from the Truth, vulgarity can do the same; an alternative to both is the preferred approach (see Phil. 4:8). In any case, an honest appraisal of Clerks and Clerks II must note that within all the bawdy humor, Smith presents an essentially conservative view of personal responsibility and geographic (im)mobility — whether his audience wants it or not.