Have a Nice Day

This article is from the archive of The New York Sun before the launch of its new website in 2022. The Sun has neither altered nor updated such articles but will seek to correct any errors, mis-categorizations or other problems introduced during transfer.

The New York Sun

New Jersey should try to secure Kevin Smith as its state mascot and spokesman. In a little over a decade of making movies, in his move from indie darling to broadcasting mini-mogul, Mr. Smith has staked Jersey as his Lake Wobegon, his Yoknapatawpha County. In “Clerks II” — the rude, hilarious sequel to 1994’s “Clerks” — Mr. Smith suggests that in Jersey’s suburbia, thou shalt find salvation.

Mr. Smith has bookended his career thus far with the scrappy indie hit “Clerks” and now the craven sellout “Clerks II.” But this Jersey boy is determined to eat his money-flavored cake and have a film that’s true to its predecessor, as well. For the most part he succeeds, retapping the soul of that cultural artifact he both solidified and commoditized, the slacker. Ingloriously replaced by coddled overgrown Gen Y fratboys, and shallow hipsters, the slackers didn’t have to contend with the various modern existential crises we do. They would become the highstrung, well-paid, overworked lemmings of the first dot-com boom and then bust, but for the early to mid-’90s, the slacker was the high-water mark of rebellion. Captains of industry’s worst nightmare, slackers thumbed their noses at capitalism by contentedly idling away the hours in dead-end jobs, hanging out, smoking pot, and avoiding the system completely, or at least participating in it as little as possible. A simple, unique life was possible for those imprisoned by the conformist tedium of strip malls.

But unlike the genre-defining “Reality Bites,” which was pure demographic-specific fluff stacked with the hot young Hollywood stars of the day, “Clerks” felt authentic. Mocking film snobs by shooting in black-and-white, “Clerks” winked at everyone who has ever clocked in. It knew the dirty jokes, impassioned arguments about nothing in particular, and immature pranks required to make it through a shift. It reveled in the indignities experienced by anyone who’s ever had to say “Thank you and have a nice day.””Clerks” declared to the world that yes, that person behind the counter might be stoned. And yes, that person probably doesn’t like you. Certain critics for this fine newspaper have languished in such thankless service jobs. Sneering at the customer, can, on occasion, take the edge off minimum wage.

Not that “Clerks” was the best the 1990s had to offer. Mr. Smith borrowed much from his more polished contemporaries, and owed much to the pop-culture sodden dialogue of Quentin Tarantino, and the easygoing vérité of Steven Soderbergh. The outrageous humor of “Clerks” was slowly becoming the national norm, and the buzz around the flick seemed not to be how great it was, but about how cheap it was to make and how much money it made. By his second movie, 1995’s “Mallrats,” Mr. Smith was lost in Tinseltown’s wilderness, making duds or misfires.

Returning to the world of “Clerks,” which in 10 years has spawned a Lilliputian empire of cartoons, action figures, and comic books, seems a calculated attempt at sacrificing the cash cow to the box office gods as penance for “Jersey Girl.” And it surely is. But luckily, Mr. Smith had something else in mind, as well. He’s written a love letter to grown-up Gen Xers, telling them to unshackle themselves from the life they’ve been told to chase. It’s okay to eschew bling, beauty, and bucks. Open that convenience store-bar-comic book shop with your best friend, fall in love with someone nice, and if anyone has a problem with it, tell them where to put “it.”

Mr. Smith opens this sequel by torching the iconic convenience store that’s been the sole employment of slacker heroes Dante (Brian O’Halloran) and Randall (Jeff Anderson) for the better part of a decade. The characters are played by the same actors from the first movie, whose post-“Clerks” careers have been less than notable. The obscurity of Messrs. O’Halloran and Anderson today adds a strange urgency and poignancy to their performances, as does the fact that the slightly more wrinkled and paunchier pair make no pains to hide their age.

With their livelihood destroyed, the duo find themselves working and wreaking havoc at a fast food joint named Mooby’s.The movie finds it pace on the eve of Dante moving to Florida with his possessive and domineering fiancée, a woman whose hatred of Jersey is the worst possible sin in Mr. Smith’s book. Becky, played by Rosario Dawson in full attainable goddess mode, manages Mooby’s and her almost plausible romantic feelings for Dante complicate his departure. Further complicating his near-marital bliss is Randal, whose deep affection for his partner in crime is matched only by his sense of betrayal, which manifests itself in snarky insults, passive-aggressive taunts, and the eventual hiring of an equine-themed going-away floor show that would make Old McDonald himself turn red.

Interspersed between Dante’s struggles to reconcile his slacker past with a pre-fab future in sunny Florida are cameos from Mr. Smith’s actor pals. As quirky teenage Bible thumper and “funployee of the month” Elias, Trevor Fehrman is hysterical, especially when relaying the utterly insane reasons his girlfriend has given him why they can’t consummate their relationship. And also showing up are Jay (Jason Mewes) and Silent Bob (Mr. Smith), the drug dealing Pozzo and Lucky of Mr. Smith’s Jersey universe. While this pair of dope-smoking tricksters have appeared in numerous Smith movies, they seem fresh and original again in “Clerks II.” That I wasn’t rolling my eyes at this pair is another testament to Mr.Smith’s ability to revisit his former glory, subverting it rather than merely being derivative of it.

There is racism, sexism, homophobia, and sexual perversion aplenty in “Clerks II,” but shock is old hat nowadays. The true shock here is the platonic love between the main characters, Dante and Becky’s romance, and the underlying ethic that doing your own thing, fashion and celebrity worship be damned, will lead to wisdom and happiness. Mr. Smith posits that enlightenment can be found wallowing amid the bleak grandeur of New Jersey. Instead of coveting the idyllic beaches of an imagined Florida and aspiring to the successes trumpeted by the rich and beautiful on magazine covers, celebrate your lot. The heroes of “Clerks 2” — older, wiser, and fatter — ache over what they feel was a life wasted hanging out and settling for the bare materialistic minimum. But by the end of the flick, Jersey has set them free.


The New York Sun

© 2024 The New York Sun Company, LLC. All rights reserved.

Use of this site constitutes acceptance of our Terms of Use and Privacy Policy. The material on this site is protected by copyright law and may not be reproduced, distributed, transmitted, cached or otherwise used.

The New York Sun

Sign in or  Create a free account

By continuing you agree to our Privacy Policy and Terms of Use