Clerks

Every filmmaker has to start somewhere. Steven Spielberg had Amblin. George Lucas had THX 1138. Darren Aronofsky had Pi. Kevin Smith? He had Clerks—the black-and-white, low-budget indie film that quickly became something of a cult classic! I was first introduced to Clerks during my freshman year at Penn State, when I met up with some friends of friends to watch this black-and-white film that I'd never even heard of . . . and I liked it so much that about a year later, as a broke college sophomore, Clerks had the distinction of being the first VHS tape I bought in college (yes, this was back during a time when DVDs were only viewed as a novelty, rather than the medium of choice, on the home video market).

The target audience for Clerks is basically those in their early 20s who work minimum-wage, customer-service jobs—i.e., those jobs that essentially serve as our one meager means of income during our college years. Having first watched this during college and while working summers at a grocery store, I could relate to various aspects of this movie a bit too well. As anyone who's worked a day in customer service of any kind will tell you, some customers are just plain assholes . . . and Clerks pokes fun at this very fact in some outrageous, yet totally human ways.

Clerks tells the story of Dante Hicks, as played by Brian O'Halloran. He's 22 years old, still lives at home, doesn't really go to school, and spends his days working at the Quick-Stop Convenience Store—Dante's quote-unquote inferno, as it were, since he hates every minute of that store. But despite his hatred of it, he also has no motivation to do anything else with his life, to change his life for the better. So he just wallows away in his misery at Quick-Stop. The yin to Dante's yang, however (or should I say, "the comedian to Dante's straightman"?), comes in the form of his best friend/worst enemy, Randal Graves (Jeff Anderson)—the very definition of "slacker." Randal works at the neighboring RST Video, where he could care less about the customers; rather, he gets his kicks insulting them at every turn. Frequently closing up the video store on a whim (whether to go rent movies elsewhere or attend the random funeral), Randal is essentially Dante's confidant and only company during the workday.

On this particular day, though, everything that possibly could go wrong does, courtesy of the odd assortment of customers who come into the store: the guidance counselor who examines all the eggs for perfection, the personal trainer who just so happened to sleep with Dante's ex when they dated during high school, the anti-smoking chewing gum salesman, a man with a Pringles can stuck to his hand, the Russian heavy metal singer, stoners Jay and Silent Bob who hang out in front of the stores all day, or the old man who mysteriously disappears into the bathroom . . . and if that's not enough to deal with, Dante is suddenly faced with a girlfriend dilemma: Caitlin, his cheating ex-high school sweetheart, now returns to town with news of her pending engagement to an Asian design major. Dante, having never really gotten over Caitlin despite his current seven-month relationship with caring, devoted Veronica, now starts to entertain thoughts of getting back together with Caitlin. Sounds like enough to deal with for one workday, right?

No??? Okay, then let's add in a hockey game on the roof of the store, and an angry crowd pelting Dante with cigarettes.

The dialogue I found rather clever, though at times maybe a little too scripted. But that doesn't detract from the uniqueness of the conversations that take place: like Randal's feelings on Star Wars and personal politics.


Or Dante and Veronica's thoughts on sex (though why they waited seven months into their relationship to ask about each other's sexual history is a little puzzling).


Being that this was a low-budget indie film, various elements of Clerks really do highlight this nature—the most prominent being its black-and-white color scheme. Though the black-and-whiteness doesn't by any means detract from the film's appeal! In fact, it actually enhances it—largely because, at least in the early to mid-'90s, you didn't see many (if any) black-and-white films coming to the theaters. The other low-budget giveaway was the actors taking on numerous roles, like producer Scott Mosier showing up at least twice in the film, first as the spaced-out Willem and then as the angry hockey-playing customer, or Walt Flanagan as the egg-scrutinizing guidance counselor followed by the sexually-offended customer. Though Kevin Smith picked his music well! Scored to a soundtrack that mostly consisted of '80s and '90s rock music, the musical selections highlighted their respective scenes quite well!

I have to say, also, that Kevin Smith really knew what he was doing when he cast this picture. Everyone fit their roles beautifully, and Dante and Randal have since become legend in the View Askewniverse! And Silent Bob's one or two lines have become eagerly-anticipated moments in nearly all of Kevin Smith's follow-up films (or at least those that feature Jay and Silent Bob). And am I the only one who thinks that Silent Bob is a great dancer? My only real gripe is that Marilyn Ghigliotti, who played Veronica, could be a bit grating at times.

As I said before, anyone who's worked in customer service will find something to relate to in Clerks. For my part, I never played hockey on the roof of my old grocery store, nor have I ever encountered the milk-maids . . . though I have come across a few customers I'd have liked to spit water at. Kevin Smith may have created a semi-autobiographical account of his days as a convenience store clerk, but his pain is something we've all felt already—and I commend his vision for turning that pain into something hilarious, memorable, and personal. That said, I give Clerks a full 10 . . . though wouldn't it be more appropriate to give it a score of 37?