As someone who is reading this review, or has reviewed films in the past, you can probably find a better word to use to elaborate my point. As a formidable teen in the 90s, nothing impressed me more than garage films that were funny, realistic, and jarring all at the same time. Clerks fit that bill. In fact, it still fits that bill whenever I feel the urge to time travel back to a place where cinema was better and creativity soared higher in Hollywood than today. Wunderkind Smith crafted a voice of a generation with this singular film, and since its release in 1994 has tried again and again to recreate that talent. Within the 17 other films he has directed since Clerks, only two have attempted to come close to the excitement that Randal and Dante held. Personally, those are Chasing Amy and the more recent Zack & Miri Make a Porno (though I credit this more towards the humor of Seth Rogan than Smith’s direction), but now I may find myself putting Red State within this elitist mix.
(As an aside, I did love Clerks: The Animated Series, but I didn’t want to confuse the reader)
Before mass hysteria pertaining to this comment, allow me to validate my point. Coming off the treacherous Cop Out (which had to be turned off early due to utter embarrassment), hesitation rang supreme as I put in the Blu-ray version of Smith’s latest outing. I recall hearing that he decided to distribute this himself, which continued to bode unwell as I hit play on the title screen. Then, the drops of piano notes hit – and my mind sunk in. Red State is a film about the power of religion, the horrors of fear, and chaotic representation of terrorism. It is about Five Points Church, their preacher Albin Cooper, the eradication of “sin”, and those caught in the crossfire. Sex-crazed teens, a cache of weapons, and a detailed work-oriented John Goodman round out the rest of the plot to this film, which honestly, is the weakest part of Red State. Smith begins our film with what feels like the beginning of the third act, and he is not afraid to keep us focused on that direction. As our teens fall prey to a petty sting operation set up by Cooper and his congregation, the rest of the movie is set either trying to escape or eradicate. This is where Smith surprised me.
Red State is not a creative film. Watching it unfold with blood, bullets, and a high body count – one cannot help but see that Smith is merely invading the space that friends Tarantino or Rodriguez already dominate. Through the shower of carnage and Goodman’s screams, one cannot help but see the ghost of Grindhouse past, or any of the more recent torture-porn semi-horror releases. Yet, as a viewer of all of his epic fails, there is some finesse to Smith’s camera. Horror may even be the wrong genre all together. He dabbles between the lines of comic and sheer shock, and is successful. His choice of casting is among the best I have seen in a long time, eerily reminiscent of a Cohen production, Michael Park’s Albin Cooper has been grandly ushered into the world of horror genius/villain. I could, and would have loved, to watch a full two hours of him merely giving sermons or asking for tea. An actor is only as good as the man giving him the direction, so to credit Park, I must also say that Smith’s eye was not dull on this count. The same can be said for Stephen Root (giving a small, but nuanced performance of a sexually-conflicted sheriff), John Goodman surprising me completely as an Agent trying to do his best amongst erupted chaos, and Melissa Leo countering Park around every turn, giving yet another dirty, grunge performance. It is these characters – these actors playing these characters – that build Red State into something stronger than anticipated.
Red State will never have the shelf longevity of Clerks, nor will it appeal to most audiences as our taste of Smith has dwindled over the years. BUT, there was something unique about this film that continued to pine in my mind. I enjoyed Smith’s juxtaposition between Goodman’s orders and that Cooper felt he was receiving from the Lord. Stagnant plot holes aside, the scenes were beautifully developed and choreographed. I especially liked that the arsenal room had a cross light hanging from the ceiling. The final scene with the horn was a small twist that left a smile on my face, and questioned why Smith hadn’t painted with such detail since 1994. Michael Park deserves an award; even an MTV Award will do, and if anything see Red State for merely the actors that inhabit the idiot box for the hour and a half. A small, insignificant glimmer of hope will appear to those that dreamed of a triumphant Smith cinematic return.
Then, like this viewer typing this today, we will accidentally turn to the “Making of…” on the same disc; hear Smith discuss why he made this film – and with shattered hope return to the original idea:
Kevin Smith movies suck.
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