Hey, everyone. "Moriarty" here with some Rumblings From The Lab.
In the midst of dealing with a catastrophe at Casa De Smith (who ever thought putting a swimming pool on the roof was a good idea?), Mr. View Askew is also still testing his new film, JERSEY GIRL, and this week, our own Mr. Beaks snuck in to take a peek:
JERSEY GIRL (w. & d. Kevin Smith)
For a film about a bullshit artist (i.e. a publicist), Kevin Smith’s JERSEY GIRL sure is neck deep in some hokey Hollywood horse puckey of its own. But, surprisingly, this isn’t a bad thing. Leaving behind the Askewniverse for a snarky approximation of the Cameron Crowe aesthetic (aided immeasurably by veteran cinematographer Vilmos Zsigmond, who serves in the same capacity that John Toll does for Mr. Nancy Wilson; drenching the film in faded, earthy hues to suggest a soulful authenticity largely absent in the writing), Smith has triumphantly traversed the tricky segue from fanboy demigod to grown-up filmmaker. Never mind the tabloids, JERSEY GIRL works! It’s a guaranteed crowd pleaser that, come fall, will quickly banish whatever evil spirits GIGLI summons this August (I’m fully expecting to see Gozer beckoning from the doors of the Mann’s Chinese when that fucker finally gets released).
But at what cost? Ever since CLERKS, the knock on Smith has been that he’s a very clever writer with a clunky visual sense. Glancing over his oeuvre, it’s been pretty well earned. Even at his best, with the deeply personal CHASING AMY in 1997, there’s always been a nagging listlessness to his direction; a sense that the brainy banter and earnest intent will override any behind-the-camera shortcomings. However, what few have bothered to note is that Smith’s writing is actually the biggest culprit here. If anything, the awkward staging of these movies is compounded by his stylized dialogue that’s further removed from naturalism than Mamet, Pinter and Beckett combined. In Smith’s films, everyone’s an encyclopedia of late 20th Century pop culture, perpetually a parsec away from launching into Quint’s USS Indianapolis speech, or an impassioned defense of the “Holy Trilogy”. While these digressions are intermittently amusing (the oral sex scar discussion from CHASING AMY is still something of a masterstroke), over the course of a two-hour film, they’re ultimately wearying because every character is talking with the same voice: Kevin’s. Rarely do the characters get to live and breathe on their own (Joey Lauren Adams’s “Amy” being the lone exception). Now, with JERSEY GIRL, Smith has remedied these failings by writing characters who, though faintly geekish at heart, actually have a life outside of movies and comic books.
JERSEY GIRL’s main character is Oliver “Ollie” Trinke (Ben Affleck), a music industry PR wizard at the top of his game. As with any publicist, Oliver is only as good as he is shameless, so when we see him spinning George Michael as a skirt-chasing ladies’ man (the film begins in the early 90’s), the depths of his duplicity are abundantly clear. Trying to avoid the clamor of a lively office Christmas party, Oliver is mysteriously visited by a brash young gal saddled with the improbable moniker of Gertrude Steiney (J-Lo). Though total strangers, the two bond instantly over their unfortunate names, engage in cute conversation at a Manhattan diner, and repair to Oliver’s apartment for some impulsive casual sex, after which the two realize they’re falling hard for one another. (Gertrude is particularly taken with Ollie since she’s never been with a Jersey guy before.) Because Gertrude is without family in the city (at least, I think she is; her history is intentionally vague), Oliver takes her out to his old stomping grounds in the Garden State, where he introduces her to his endearingly surly, heavy-drinking pops (George Carlin). She fits into these surroundings immediately, so it isn’t but a few months before the two are married and expecting a child. Though they do encounter a few rough patches here and there – mostly innocuous marital spats that quickly blow over – they are the very picture of marital bliss. The only lingering worry threatening to drive a wedge between the two is Ollie’s workaholic tendencies. An annoyed Gertrude eventually pleads with Ollie to comport his schedule to their new life once the baby is born; a tall order, to be sure, but one that Ollie seems to recognize as necessary.
And, then, the unthinkable happens: after an unexpected tragedy, the lovers are separated, leaving the devastated Ollie to raise their new daughter, Gertie, by himself; a task he initially avoids, but, finally, accepts to the eventual detriment of his performance at work. Hopping forward seven years, Gertie has grown into a precocious and perceptive young girl (newcomer Raquel Castro), while Ollie has been banished to Jersey where he’s now working for the city with his pops. It’s a humbling set-back, but one that has turned Ollie into a more caring and attentive father. Still, there’s a gaping emotional void in his life where Gertrude used to be; one that can’t be sated even by his steady porn habit. Enter Maya (Liv Tyler), a snoopy video store clerk (what else?) who sets out to give Ollie a little sexual healing. Slowly, Ollie’s heart begins to thaw, and he begins to fall for Maya. But the painful memory of Gertrude’s absence remains, as do his ambitions to return to the PR game; ergo, as he lets his emotional guard down, the calculating spin master reawakens, threatening to alienate his trusting daughter.
In looking to distance himself from the unrepentant juvenility of his previous films, Smith has essentially brought a softened version of his puerile sensibilities to the romantic comedy genre, and the transition is closer to effortless than you’d expect. Even when the gags aim low, they’re wisely suffused with a sweetness that undercuts any potential randiness. This pays off best in scenes involving Gertie, particularly the moment where Ollie walks in on her and a boy playmate showing each other their differing genitalia. The punchline – Affleck sitting the pair down and pointedly interrogating the boy as to his “intentions” – might be too cute for its own good, but it’s pretty damn winning nonethelss.
Most of these gags pay off thanks in large part to the spot-on casting. The discovery of the film, and its real star, is Raquel Castro, who amazes as little Gertie, the titular Jersey Girl. A complete natural in front of the camera – she’s blessed with a sure comedic timing that recalls the young Tatum O’Neal in PAPER MOON – Castro is sensational, the absolute heart of the picture. If Harvey doesn’t get her a Best Supporting Actress nomination next year, Miramax might as well close up shop (no need to worry, she’s a mortal lock). But good as she is, I find myself equally impressed with Smith’s writing for the character. Too often, these characters are wise beyond their years, but Kevin never overdoes it. He stays within a realm of plausibility that rewards the film with an earned poignancy, allowing it to periodically rise above its synthetic mechanics. In a picture rife with processed soul, Gertie is JERSEY GIRL’s irresistibly human center.
I guess the big question here is whether Bennifer generates any onscreen heat. While the mere thought of GIGLI loomed ominously over the horizon as I watched JERSEY GIRL, I must admit to being surprised by their easy, if unspectacular, chemistry. Tracy/Hepburn they ain’t, but they’re a far sight better than, say, Penn/Madonna. Those looking for a disaster will find nothing remotely snicker worthy here, which, I guess, is some kind of victory.
I don’t know where this supposed “bad buzz” is originating with JERSEY GIRL, but, content-wise, the cut I saw last night is in fine shape. Aside from a snip here and there on the last scene, and a thorough rethinking on the music cues (“Landslide”, “Rainbow Connection” and that mawkish Sting song are too obvious even for something this conventional), Harvey would do well to keep his damn dirty paws off this thing. The only question remaining concerns Smith’s career from here on out, and how he’ll use the commercial clout likely to be amassed in the wake of this picture’s success. At the end of JERSEY GIRL, Ollie realizes that there is no shame in reining in your ambitions, and is, therefore, redeemed by making the safe choices. Though it’s far too early to tell, Smith’s career longevity could very well lie down that very path. Could anyone who got a charge out of the convention-flouting fun of CLERKS have predicted that?
Faithfully submitted,
Mr. Beaks
We also got another review in for the film, so check it out:
Hey,
There was a screening last night in Sherman Oaks of Kevin Smith's Jersey Girl which I was able to attend and I wanted to share my thoughts with AICN. I think this has been reviewed before, but as I understand it this is a tightened cut from before.
First let me state that I am a fan of Kevin Smith's movies, but not much of Kevin Smith. He overwrites obviously, but it's more that. His material resembles quality more than actually being quality. The good thigns about his films are the performances and the actors he hires. He writes a lot about life, but it always comes across as what someone who has sat inside his whole life thinks life is. I am sort of embarrassed watching some of those movies and realizing that I just liked them because I was impressed with the verbiage (because he used words like verbiage) mixed with dead guy boner jokes. That's a never-fail approach. Anyway, I feel it's important with such a divisive director to state which kind of outlook I am coming from.
That said, this to me is the worst kind of thing Kevin Smith can be. This smells like an Oscar grab, but then there's the puzzling comedy grabs too. It's all just a misguided grab, basically. I am going to just say this even though it is probably unfair, but it seems to me that Smith wanted to simultaneously get more credibility from the industry for his writing while he also tried to retain his old fans with enough comic set pieces to give them something to talk about on their little web page. Yeah, I know, dick, but that's ow I feel after leaving that screening. I felt manipulated, and it seemed like the worst kind of movie-of-the-week melodrama mixed with a small dash of admittedly strong comedy. I think all but the hardest of the hardcore are going to want to forget this movie, and quick.
I have to go into spoiler territory to do a review at all, but I will just say the one thing most people know. If you don't know, then don't read anymore.
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The gist of the movie is that Affleck, playing a pretty typical working stiff public relations guy, and J-Lo, playing a painfully labored version of a "cool" woman (which Liv Tyler does a variation on later), fall in love. Jenny from the Bland is truly a train wreck in this movie. It really is no fault of all the press about them, though that doesn't help. She just sucks. Affleck actually was great in this section, and he really made me feel like I was seeing a normal guy fall in love. But the film, though shot much more professionally than Smith's other films, is static for much of the dialogue scenes, and we simply can't escape the j-lo. We never believe that Affleck's performance corresponds with J-Lo. I kept thinking he had Joey Lauren Adams in his mind. I think Lopez would be really good playing a high maintenance bitch, or even lampooning the type of role she does in Jersey Girl, but it doesn't resemble reality at all to see her playing a cool chick who knows music and movies. She seems intent on being the vulnerable but "awesome" girl that reeks of "disaster ahead." She's like the black guy in a horror movie -- you know they are going to get it, because that's what always happens in these movies.
And that's what does happen. Smith writing by numbers, what a bummer. After giving birth to a little girl, Lopez dies. Absolutely no emotional impact. Crazily Lifetime-movie. A low point for the man who found a use for Jay Mewes.
But that's where the movie picks up a little steam. Affleck is good in what I guess would be the second half of the movie, though this thing was so long it was hard to tell where in the story we were. The one lame thing is he decides to take a job as a street sweeper, cause he's just such a normal joe. Right. Benny from the block. It is such an incredibly stupid way of showing this guy going back to his roots that it really is embarrassing. I found myself wishing that the studio would start forcing Smith to do certain things, because he really does seem lost in his own indulgence at times. It's as if he is trying to make an indie-informed studio picture, but it just seems like a bad studio picture. If this didn't have Kevin Smith's name on it, NOBODY would see it. It simply doesn't stand on its own. But it does provide some interesting insights just in terms of seeing what Smith has turned into. Maybe its going somewhere good, but if this is the kind of thing he plans on doing, I think he is screwed.
The little girl does her best macauley culkin, and she is part of the pantheon of kids that act completely unlike real kids for the sake of movie cuteness. Actually the best thing in this movie were these two dudes from the diner. One of them is milton from office space, and one of them is the bad guy from dumb and dumber. They were great, but after a little while you realized they were functioning as the jay and bob device. The seams show. In fact, for a movie that was supposed to be such a departure, it sure feels like his other films in terms of the writing, if not the tone. I want to see Smith do a movie set somewhere entirely new, about something like this, in a confrontational way like Annie Hall where it's truly examined, instead of merely displayed and exploited to pull heart strings (plus the score literally pulls heart strings -- awful and overwrought). He clearly tried to write a whole movie that would hit on the levels that elements of chasing amy did, and the strain stinks up the whole film.
Jason Biggs is someone Smith should write his next film for. He is excellent, and I think he seemed the most comfortable spitting out Smith's overwritten dialogue. I found myself really curious to see what kind of movie Smith could write for a guy like Biggs, who is at turns funny, touching, and kind of cool. Not that Affleck is a bad choice, it clearly seems written for him. But it seems like the whole gang was too intent on making this like Jerry Maguire. I kept waiting for Affleck to go "Help me...help you!" And worse, ONLY Jerry Maguire, as opposed to maybe looking back to Billy Wilder and the films that inspired Cameron Crowe's film, to deepen Smith's own vision. Instead it seems like a first effort by a young director, not the result of a decade of filmmaking. It's hackneyed, and it's trite, and worst of all, it's forgettable. Like or dislike Dogma, you remember the shit monster. But in this one, you'll forget the shit monster, and not just because she dies in the first half hour.
George Carlin is fine in this film, but as a longtime fan of his I have to say I was a little bummed at the way he was used. Not very funny, and not very moving. Just kinda "eh." I was surprised to see some people from Smith's other films pop up, but they weren't there for long. No need to spoil it, but it's more than you think (or more than I thought).
At this point we all know the drill: Smith apologists will say it's a brilliant move forward, the PTA fans will cal it more hackwork. But what of the undecided middle ground? I think the sad thing for Smith fans like myself is that this movie will probably open big due to its stars, and its probably the worst display of what is good about his work. The heart is forced, the dialogue is stunted, and the performances are mannered. The story arc is exactly what you think it will be, and the filler elements feel like ghosts of his past glory. I hope that this film bombs actually, because it will let Smith make his next movie knowing that the reach isn't worth it and doing a good movie is more important. I'm afraid it will instead do well, and his next film will reach even more.
All in all, the film is a chore, and it's the first one I will most definitely not be buying on DVD. That's probably all I needed to say for people to get it. On the Mallrats DVD, Smith refers to a review of the film that said "If ever there is a course at Sundance on what not to do on a second film, Kevin Smith's Mallrats should be at the heart of the curriculum." That always stuck out to me because it was such a lame dick thing for the reviewer to say, but as I watched here, I couldn't help but think that its a shame the guy who reminded everyone how fresh movies could be with Clerks has traveled down such a pedestrian road. I give it one star out of four.
Sincerely,
Cold Porter
Thanks, guys. Surprised to hear how much Cold Porter didn’t like the film, but he argues his case well. I’m curious to get a gander m’self now.
"Moriarty" out.
