It’s been almost 25 years since the infamous Esquire piece in which Andrew Sarris suggested that Kevin Smith might become “the next Scorsese.” One doesn’t need a quarter century of hindsight to blanch at such a suggestion; indeed, there was plenty of contemporaneous pushback. But Smith has become something else instead — an institution of a certain kind. An early adopter of online forums and Internet community-building, Smith leveraged a few well-received films and some modest box office success into an empire, now encompassing a shared universe of interconnected characters, a production company, podcasts, and even an honest-to-goodness, brick-and-mortar movie theater. There are a few narratives here, like how Smith’s career parallels that of the Sundance Film Festival, from scrappy underdog to gradual mainstream acceptance, eventual multi-million-dollar wheeling and dealing, and finally, a sort of retreat into self-reflexive meta-commentary and careful brand management. There’s something there also about how his rise charts a model for Gen Xers who grew up and cashed in — the slacker-to-millionaire pipeline. Or even how Smith’s comic book bonafides predated (even predicted) the rise of the MCU, with its own model of shared characters spanning movies and TV (and which, like Smith’s work, has entered an era of diminishing returns and waning interest outside of a diehard fanbase).
Any of this could be gruel for a dozen think-pieces, but if Smith is to be treated like a filmmaker rather than a brand, one must eventually consider the movies themselves. Opinions vary there, too, of course; Smith’s raunchy dialogue and constant stream of pop culture references were never to every taste, and for every project where he seems to be stretching himself (Red State, Tusk) there’s a concomitant retreat to safer, more familiar territory (Clerks III, Jay and Silent Bob Reboot). His newest project, The 4:30 Movie, splits the difference between these modes. Borrowing the day-in-the-life narrative structure of Clerks, The 4:30 Movie charts the zany misadventures of three friends in the summer of 1986 as they sneak around a movie theater and wait for a date to arrive. The lucky guy is high schooler Brain (Austin Zajur), who has finally worked up the nerve to ask out his long-time crush Melody (Siena Agudong), She says yes, but can’t meet him until 4:30. So Brian, along with best buds Belly (the nerd, played by Reed Northrup) and Burnie (the muscular Lothario, played with brio by Nicholas Cirillo) set out to buy tickets to a PG movie, then sneak into some R-rated movies until Melody arrives. Standing in their way is maniacal theater manager Mike (Ken Jeong, doing typical Ken Jeong things), who rules the theater with an iron fist and seems to delight in banning troublemakers for life.
The premise is thin, and Smith seems rather content to largely fill out the movie’s already brief runtime with a series of cameos from famous friends, a few trailers for fake movies, and a couple of heart-to-heart conversations that resolve various conflicts with a minimum of fuss. Justin Long is there as a weird patron waiting in line for popcorn; Rachel Dratch and Jason Lee pop up as Brian’s parents; Sam Richardson is a local wrestler named Major Murder; even Method Man shows up for some reason. The fake trailers are also chock full of brief appearances by a handful of Smith regulars; daughter Harley is the titular Sister Sugar Walls, while Jason Biggs falls victim to an ass monster in Booties. Rapper Logic and Diedrich Bader get to play larger roles in Astro Blaster, the movie that Brian and his pals watch to start their day. None of this is particularly funny; as leftover Grindhouse pastiche, it barely passes muster, but as a kind of home movie showcase, it’s at least reasonably charming.
There are intimations of jokes here, mostly lots of nods to modern audiences about how things were different in the ’80s (you better believe there’s a Bill Cosby joke, as well as a bunch of Star Wars prequel talk and how such a thing “could never happen”). Otherwise, the plot throws a few roadblocks into the boy’s path, has Brian and Burnie fight over a girl, and throws in a few platitudes about how magic and important the movies are. And that’s really the mode that Smith is working in here: uncomplicated nostalgia. Smith parted ways with critics and mainstream Hollywood some time ago, and seems perfectly content to fuck around with his friends and make movies in his hometown. The 4:30 Movie eventually reveals itself to be at least partially autobiographical, and if the proceedings feel very much like rose-tinted glasses, Smith has proven successful enough to maybe have earned a victory lap. He’s never going to be the next Scorsese, but it seems like that was never actually the goal for him. He’s doing things his own way, and if that doesn’t make The 4:30 Movie actually good, it’s still not nothing. Smith is now strictly a for-fans-only kind of showman, and one suspects those fans wouldn’t have it any other way.
DIRECTOR: Kevin Smith; CAST: Austin Zajur, Reed Northrup, Nicholas Cirillo, Ken Jeong; DISTRIBUTOR: Saban Films; IN THEATERS: September 13; RUNTIME: 1 hr. 27 min.
