Mallrats (1995)
This is a pretty big deal for me. Thanks be to Tess for giving me the opportunity to besmirch a site I really love with my low-brow taste.
YOU KNOW HOW LONG IT TAKES FOR THAT SMELL TO COME OFF?
by Jake Cleland
Kevin Smith, like other great writer/directors (see: Wes Anderson or Quentin Tarantino), is a highly divisive character. Some people love his films, others think he’s a philistine who believes the conversations he has with his friends are worthy of being committed to cinema. I can understand the latter point of view, but (and perhaps this is a symptom of my demographic) I happen to love the banal conversations present in Smith’s films. Mallrats contains the most iconic examples, like:
T.S. Quint: But they’re engaged.
Brodie: Doesn’t matter, can’t happen.
T.S. Quint: Why not? It’s bound to come up.
Brodie: It’s impossible, Lois could never have Superman’s baby. Do you think her fallopian tubes could handle the sperm? I guarantee you he blows a load like a shotgun right through her back. What about her womb? Do you think it’s strong enough to carry his child?
T.S. Quint: Sure, why not?
Brodie: He’s an alien, for Christ sake. His Kyrptonian biological makeup is enhanced by earth’s yellow sun. If Lois gets a tan the kid could kick right through her stomach. Only someone like Wonder Woman has a strong enough uterus to carry his kid. The only way he could bang regular chicks is with a kryptonite condom. That would kill him.(This is an exchange I hoped to see realised in the film Hancock, but was sorely disappointed.)
According to bastion of human knowledge Wikipedia, “Mallrats was the subject of much critical derision when it was released”. Understandably so: Clerks was wildly celebrated, and it’s sometimes hard to clear the bar you’ve set for yourself. Despite this, Mallrats is at the top of my Smith films, mostly due to the brilliance of Brodie Bruce.
Before we get into that, though, I’ll afford you the benefit of a summary: set in New Jersey, the film tells of the quest of T.S. Quint and his friend Brodie to get back their girlfriends (Brandi and Rene, respectively), who dumped them on the same day. T.S. planned to propose to Brandi when Jaws popped out of the water in Florida, but his plans were ruined when her father recruited her for his new television show (“a cheesy dating show trying to capture the youth market with a staple of 70s television”). While the romance between T.S. and Brandi is supposed to be the focus of the story, the combination of Jeremy London’s awful acting and line-flubbing (he was allegedly stoned during most of the filming) and the lack of anything remotely interesting about the couple makes it easy to shift your attention to the supporting cast.
The intro to the film is presented in comic book format and echoes not just the character’s enthusiasm for that medium, but how they see themselves. Each character is introduced in the credits as a champion in his or her own comic book. They see themselves as heroes in their own epic tale, not unlike most twenty-somethings, and Brodie might be one of the greatest twenty-something characters in cinematic history.
Brodie is an instantly memorable character: a classic man-child before man-children were the focus of every comedy film ever (some have mentioned that Kevin Smith actually paved the way for Judd Apatow’s success with this archetype). He revels in the simplicity of his life, the sort of tragic banality we’ve come to associate with New Jersey living. In this way, he’s happy-go-lucky, though his sardonic sense of humor makes it difficult to label him as such. Despite not being the main protagonist, he’s so compelling that every other character takes a step back in importance, and the film becomes about Brodie’s interactions.
Though Rene (Shannen Doherty, in the only role in which I’ve ever liked her) is set up as his love interest, Brodie’s true love is The Mall. It’s the stabilising force in his life, and he is more shocked and disoriented by changes to the mall than being dumped by the girl he loves, remarking “I must be slipping in my old age.” It is his kingdom, and the Dixie Cup he carries, his royal scepter (though perhaps a shield would be a better metaphor). He carries it for the majority of the film with a couple of notable exceptions: he sets it down when he approaches Rene for the first time since their breakup, and is sent reeling when she resists his charms; the second time he sets it down is when he’s threatened by the asshole proprietor of Fashionable Male, Shannon Hamilton (played by Ben Affleck’s jaw line). Brodie’s natural reaction is to raise the cup as a barrier between the two of them, though it’s quickly dispatched by his aggressor. And, like a dark prince usurping a king, Shannon claims Rene as his own.
The royal simile goes further. Like a king, Brodie’s very proud of his domain, correcting T.S. when he mistakes the cookie stand as part of the food court (as it lies outside the designated food court area, it’s really an “autonomous unit for mid-mall snacking”) and when he refers to the hub of commerce as simply “a mall” (“It’s not “a mall” it’s “The Mall””). He is threatened by the changes, represented by the construction of the stage for the show, and hires degenerate duo Jay & Silent Bob to destroy it, much like a royal might hire hitmen to assassinate the figurehead of a potential revolution. He’s also wise and sagely, spouting truisms in order to placate the worries of his best friend.
It’s halfway through the film when Brodie emerges from narcissistic wallowing to solve his problem with Rene, by giving her the one thing she wanted: A good fucking. Yes, that is the turning point. Rene goes from being repulsed by Brodie after their breakup and enthused about meeting a new man, to falling in love with him again. If Kevin Smith is to be criticized for one thing, it’s that his female characters are not particularly well-rounded and often two-dimensional, though he more than made up for this in his follow-up to Mallrats, Chasing Amy. Brodie also gets his revenge against Shannon Hamilton, by showing a tape of him having sex with a fifteen-year-old to a live audience enthralled by his previous on-stage antics. Silent Bob (oh, you didn’t forget this was a Jay & Silent Bob movie, did you?) also gets his moment, successfully using the Force to retrieve the aforementioned tape from where it was trapped in the scaffolding. Even Willam, the mallrat who dedicates his day to staring at a Magic Eye picture, finally sees the schooner hidden in the puzzle. I guess something probably happens between T.S. and Brandi, though I doubt it’s worth mentioning. Finally, after the turbulent day, peace returns to the domain of Brodie Bruce, King of the Mallrats.
Jake Cleland is a precocious child residing in Melbourne, mooching off his parents while taking the internet far too seriously. He Tumbls here.
