It's Mooby Time!

As my old tennis buddy Melanie said once, when a naked Chris Rock falls out of the sky, you know it’s a good time. And what about Salma Hayek in pigtails and a plaid skirt with a stripper pole between her legs? And Matt Damon laying waste to a bunch of good-for-nothing corporate whores by blowing them away at point blank range? Only Kevin Smith could (or, perhaps, would) bring scenes like those into a movie about Christianity. But then again, why shouldn’t saving the world be a good time?

Of course, every religiously affiliated good time needs a symbol, so Dogma gives us the Buddy Christ. George Carlin, as Cardinal Ignatius Glick, introduces the Buddy Christ statue in the context of retiring the crucifix and replacing it with something a little more friendly in order to attract new faithful to Catholicism. Carlin’s reassuring tone and broad gestures as he speaks at the podium are more those of a politician than those of a priest, which creates a rather slimy character. And then, when the Buddy Christ statue is unveiled, sheer absurdity takes over. The idea of Christ performing a cheesy wink while pointing at the congregation with both hands is fabulous because it’s so far off from everything that the crucifix stands for. Should the prevalent symbol of the faith say “remember my suffering” or some combination of “heaaaaaaay” and “what up, yo?” It’s a tough question.

And there are other tough questions. For instance, how should the Christian faithful deal with the problem of corrupt corporate CEOs who make gobs of money by doing reprehensible things? The clear answer, of course, is to list back to them aloud their most heinous sins in front of their co-workers, taunt them with a voodoo doll, then blow them away with a handgun. I wonder what Kevin Smith was doing when he came up with that one. Maybe he was thinking of what he should do as he sat in the comfort of his spot on the pew some Sunday morning and looked across the aisle at some guy who beat up his sister (who, oddly enough, plays the Caged Animal Masturbator in Clerks) and put sugar in his gas tank while pretending to be a good Catholic. While these certainly wouldn’t be the worst of what people pretending to be good Catholics have done over the course of history, I could understand why Kevin Smith would then come up with something like the aforementioned corporate scene where Matt Damon blows away all but one of the Mooby’s board of directors.

But from the blowing away corporate guys scene, Salma Hayek’s stripper scene takes up the panache a level. As Serendipity, Hayek plays a muse, an inspirer of others. In this case, as she says, she inspires idiots to empty their wallets. It is clear what words do no do justice to the glasses with pigtails and plaid skirt look that she has going on in that scene, but something can be said for her practical knowledge of Christian tradition and her lack of fear in applying it even in the face of the massive Golgothan. After all, there’s nothing like a gorgeous stripper who then turns out to be quite intelligent and full of all kinds of practical tips about saving the world. I do remember that it’s Silent Bob who actually lays waste to the Golgothan, but I recall Serendipity hiding under the bar preparing some kind of holy water and alcohol bomb. She’s so practical, that one. And isn’t it absurd how the Golgothan itself actually looks kind of cute when it finally emerges from the bathroom stall? If it weren’t a shit-demon, I might almost think that it was someone’s crazy manimal-style pet. Ah, the face and little ears of evil.

Beyond its bizarre take on good and evil, though, what I like about Dogma above all is its treatment of Christianity as not only a complex system of thought, but also as a way of life that involves some fun and excitement. I think that it’s quite nice considering what so many people think of as “Christianity” these days.

Bastardizing Seventeenth Century Poetry at the Mall

If there’s one thing I assert on a regular basis that nearly everyone disagrees with, it’s that Mallrats (1995) is a contender for best Kevin Smith movie ever. And I don’t say that just because it’s the only thing ever made where Claire Forlani and Shannen Doherty actually look good. I say that because it’s a funny but somewhat accurate reflection of what I found it to be like to grow up in suburbia, and because it’s appealing in its capacity as a mid-1990s period piece.

Clearly, the humor comes first. The film opens with a Brodie (Jason Lee) voice over where he tells the story of how his cousin Walter got two cats stuck in his ass. When asked why this kept happening, the cousin replied, “How else am I supposed to get the gerbil out?” This voice over plays while the viewer sees various shots around the mall including the Burning Flesh Tanning Salon and, the crown jewel, Rug Munchers Carpet Outlet. One of the few things that made suburbia an alright place to grow up is that it’s filled with these kinds of bizarre stories and businesses with faux pas phrases or words in their names. The best such business I can think of from my own part of suburbia is the Dick Corporation, a large general contractor. Every time a new TGI Friday’s or Best Buy is erected in the South Hills, there’s a big, long, hard trailer that says “Dick” in big green letters. And I have to say, even now, I chuckle every time I see one. Suburbia plays host to some funny shit, and it’s great to see that characteristic displayed at its most absurd in Mallrats.

But in addition to the comedy, Mallrats nails the accurate reflection part too, even though it can’t be divorced completely from the funny stuff. Early in the film, Brodie’s girlfriend Rene (Shannen Doherty) breaks up with him. This occurs when she wakes him up at 9:30 in the morning, clearly wanting to say something to him, and all he can do is gripe about being roused from his slumber. Then, Brodie searches franticly around his nightstand and bed, without getting up, and pulls out the controller for his Sega Genesis. As he begins to play the hockey game he had paused overnight, Rene dumps him. Afterward, he tells T.S. (Jeremy London), his best friend, about the breakup and says, “Hell hath no fury like a woman’s scorn for Sega.” This memorable quote captures something fundamental about suburbia. The appropriation of such a quote from the late seventeenth century demonstrates the quasi-educated nature of many suburbanites. Many had decent high school and college educations, where they experienced a brief and cursory exposure to the cannon of western literature. While they might not understand it, I sometimes find their attempts at using that exposure in daily life rather endearing. Those attempts indicate that some suburbanites find at least a little value in such things as seventeenth century literature, and the modification of “Hell hath no fury like a woman scorned” to “Hell hath no fury like a woman’s scorn for Sega” demonstrates creativity as well as some thought about how history and literature affect our present. I find this refreshing as hell. But of course, like most things in suburbia, the use of the quote is half-assed. The quote is not “Hell hath no fury like a woman scorned,” and it doesn’t come from Shakespeare as most people would guess. It comes from “The Mourning Bride,” a poem William Congreve wrote and then published in 1697, and the two lines are, “Heaven has no rage like love to hatred turned / Nor hell a fury like a woman scorned.” In this little microcosm of quote appropriation, Mallrats manages to evoke the way in which suburbia misunderstands the world and its affect on the world. It’s funny and serious in its sadness simultaneously and on different levels; this is a sign of a great film.

And as if this weren’t enough, Mallrats is an appealing mid-1990s period piece in that it dates the film in ways that are fun to remember but don’t color the film so much that it falls apart when someone watches it all these years later. Of course, the post-grunge alternative rock/pop that fills the soundtrack sets the film in the 1990s very precisely. Artists like Everclear, Belly, and Bush share all the characteristics of this sort of music. Another example came up recently, when my law school friend and tennis buddy Brooke, who is four years younger than I am and thus across something of a generational line due to the rapid cultural change that happened in the 1990s, asked me what a Henley was. I showed her the pictures from Mallrats that I’ve posted here as an illustration. T.S. is wearing a Helney in classic 1990s style: under a flannel, plaid shirt, something, again quasi-misappropriated, from the grunge era that came and went only a few years before. The Henley adds a neat and preppy, suburban look to the plaid that nobody grunge would have contemplated. And it’s even more preppy when someone ties the flannel plaid shirt around his/her waist. While the Henley is one of several elements that add to the mid-1990s period piece nature of the film, Brodie’s manner of dress serves as a more timeless anchor. I’m sure I could still walk around South Hills Village Mall at the right time and see someone dressed like Brodie. The t-shirt and the casual blazer always seem to have some place in dress, whatever that place may be.























But all of this, Mallrats’s humor combined with its absurdly accurate portrayal of suburbia in the mid-1990s, makes me think that Mallrats is great because that’s the time and place of my coming of age. I believe that each of us most often garners meaning from the world by comparing it to the time and place of our coming of age. Only when I become aware of my own culture can I truly live alongside and appreciate other cultures. Sadly, so many never come to enough awareness of their own culture to reach this end. I guess I like Mallrats so much because it makes me remember the wonderfully powerful and inseparable sadness and enlightenment of coming of age, becoming aware of the world, and becoming educated.