Once an underdog of the indie scene, Kevin Smith has, in the prime of his middle age, embraced the role of crafting glorified, self-indulgent home movies that critics and fans alike might describe as a nostalgic ode to personal reflections, featuring an ensemble of friends and family members. These films teem with callbacks, insider jokes, and the perennial angst surrounding friendship, romance, and growing pains. This observation, though not novel, stands firm given Smith's relentless and predictable recycling of themes, making it improbable that a more refreshing perspective will emerge anytime soon. And Smith himself seems content with the status quo.
To his credit, his movies remain personal, heartfelt, and devoid of artifice, qualities that resonate deeply with his loyal and forgiving fan base. Yet, they often verge on being stale, lazy endeavors that test the patience of even his most ardent supporters, particularly those who cherish the novelty of his early works.
Amidst this backdrop, Smith's latest offering, the kitschy '80s-tinged coming-of-age comedy, 'The 4:30 Movie', while not a cinematic masterpiece, might just be his finest work in years. (It certainly surpasses the dreary likes of 'Clerks III', 'Jay And Silent Bob Reboot', or 'Yoga Hosers' by a considerable margin.) Austin Zajur stars as Brian, a cinephile teenager and clear-cut Smith avatar, who embarks on a quasi-date mission with Melody (Siena Agudong), the summer fling whose bosom he narrowly brushed past, to catch a 4:30 showing of a fictional film, 'Bucklick'. The adventure unfolds during Memorial Day weekend, as Brian and his BFFs, the rat-tailed Belly (Reed Northrup) and macho Burny (Nicholas Cirillo), embark on a cinema-hopping spree before rendezvousing with Melody. Along the way, they must evade the theater's eccentric manager (Ken Jeong), who parades in a 'Miami Vice' suit and pilots a 'movie-mobile' adorned with jangling old film reels.
In the comic-book narrative that Smith adores, this could be an origin tale: Brian, a budding writer and pop-culture aficionado, chronicles his days and dreams into a tape recorder. (Under a more adept filmmaker's touch, this on-screen narration could have been a clever narrative device, but Smith largely neglects it in 'The 4:30 Movie'.) The film is bathed in a hazy, nostalgia-tinged glow, yet it never fully immerses the viewer in a specific era or atmosphere, failing to establish a coherent vibe. Instead, it's a relentless stream of nods to Smith's Generation X adolescence: 'Starlog', 'Highlander', 'Star Wars', 'SCTV', professional wrestlers, Billy Idol, Yakov Smirnoff, nuclear war fears, Hands Across America, and more. It echoes Smith's usual banter-filled films, except this time, the protagonists are genuine, awkward, and horny '80s teens obsessed with 'Jaws' rather than adults clinging to their teenage obsessions and insecurities.
This apparent self-referentiality, however, should not be mistaken for introspection. The conflicts are external, fueled by pesky adults, insecure friendships, and overbearing parents. (Rachel Dratch, as Brian's mother, incessantly phones him during his cinematic escapade, a tiresome running gag.) Brian's sole quest is for confidence and an audience, both of which Melody seems to offer. There are fleeting glimpses of vintage Smithian charm—chiefly in Brian's fleeting encounters with eccentric individuals who've found God or deny the existence of 'Gandhi'—but these moments are scarce.
Setting a substantial portion of 'The 4:30 Movie' in a local multiplex (a real-life theater owned by Smith in Atlantic Highlands, New Jersey) does little to elevate his lackluster staging but provides ample opportunities for cameos and crude, whimsical parodies, hallmarks of his work. Viewers are treated to elongated fake trailers for a sleazy nun-on-the-run exploitation flick (which manages to be amusing) and a horror movie about anus-devouring monsters (less successful). We're also introduced to extended clips from 'Astro Blaster And The Beavermen', a cheesy hybrid of 'Flash Gordon' and 'Beastmaster' that further underscores Smith's penchant for familiarity.
These elements—masturbation jokes, Batman references, and the like—are staple ingredients in Smith's slapdash formula, where familiarity is indeed the name of the game. Anyone venturing into a new Kevin Smith film in 2024 is either already well-acquainted with the comforting familiarity
