One of the things I liked about Clerks 2 (and I liked many things) was how it both capped off and started a new era of filmmaking for Kevin Smith. Once the color faded in over the Quick Stop window, a process began of Smith showing off skills he had developed since the first Clerks, but hadn’t utilized fully in a single movie; a roaming camera, the planning out of where actors ought to be placed for said camera, edits and transitions that kept scenes — individually and collectively — at a good pace, etc. This was a more polished Kevin Smith, from writer who directs to director who orchestrates. Fast forward a few years and a few movies, and we have Tusk. Hmm.
If I were to play word association with this movie, the first thing to pop out of my mouth would be “self indulgent”. And that isn’t necessarily a bad thing all of the time, but is an annoyance some of the time.
Is it a horror or a comedy? A dramedy? Perhaps “stoner body horror chuckle-a-thon” would be more appropriate, I really don’t know. There isn’t any pot smoking in the film itself, but you get a waft of weed coming from beyond the screen, somewhere near the screenplay desk. So many ideas for groovy things to see come to fruition are presented, like a madman stitching a poor soul into a walrus costume, or silly jokes about Canada and Nazis. The whole production reminds me of watching movies on VHS with friends from middle school, commenting on what we would do if we had the funds to make something, and laughing at how ludicrous the thoughts became. We didn’t have to smoke to develop such odd tales, but of course, we were 8th graders.
On many an occasion, there are sequences that feel as though they were crafted just for you. At the peak of the story, there is a reveal that is built up and paid off with such shockingly grotesque craft, you’ll be left gasping, leaping with joy and/or vomiting. That alone is worth the price of admission. However, on the flip side, there is many an occasion where goofy jokes run their welcome and undercut the action — something Smith, unfortunately, is known for. Towards the end, a scene between two famous “oddball” actors goes on and on and on and on for what feels like an eternity. This might be a case where the director was overtaken with fanboy joy and felt bad about cutting out any length of the exchange. Still, superfluous is superfluous.
There is a clever head on its shoulders, but it’s a bit foggy. When the two story lines — friends and lovers at home and scares abroad — come together, there is a sad depth that appears; Frankenstein like tragedy as a manifestation of poor judgement towards those you care about. It’s an interesting twist on the trope of unlikable characters learning a lesson through insane situations, but it’s made murky by a last minute “Man vs. Animal” bit. It’s possible that I’m giving too much credit here, and that the movie doesn’t really care about such, or any, themes. As long as you were grossed out and laughed all over, it’ll sleep well at night.
Sometimes it’s good to be self indulgent, sometimes it’s bad. And that’s Tuskin a nutshell. The work of a wild imagination, unfiltered and laid bare. Whatever genre it falls under, and however the premise was nurtured, it exists as an anomaly of a film. Truly weird from unholy start to unholy finish. The further Kevin Smith transforms, the further I’ll go out of my way to buy a ticket.
3.5 / 5 *s
