My Boring-Ass Life (Revised Edition): The Uncomfortably Candid Diary of Kevin Smith (74 page)

The Demographics they were looking for were sixty percent male, forty percent female, seventeen to thirty-four (sixty percent under twenty-five). Essentially, a mainstream comedy audience — something, I feel, our flick really isn’t.

The good news is that it was, apparently, an easy recruit. They had a line that wrapped the building of people looking to get in. Thirty or forty potential attendees had to be turned away. We had a packed house of close to 400. But when the
Clerks II
title card came up, there was no raucous applause (a normally great indicator that the room is full of friendlies).

However, that was about the only point in the screening when there
weren’t
applause.

Man, that screening rocked. The audience was with the flick every step of the way. It played even better, I dare say, than it did in Cannes (which I guess isn’t
that
surprising, since the entire audience, unlike the Cannes screening, was comprised of folks whose first language was English). There were only three walkouts (one of whom was a mid-thirties woman who felt the film was “disgusting”., and they all left in the first twenty minutes (by which time anybody who feels the flick isn’t their kinda poison heads for the hills). After that first twenty minutes, nobody left. That’s rare for us and our flicks (especially considering how out there our flicks can get; this one in particular).

When the flick ended, there was resounding applause (also pretty fucking rare in a test screening). The audience filled out their cards, and twenty-five folks were kept behind for the focus group.

The focus group didn’t seem to match the audience reaction we heard while watching the flick. Folks were a bit more reserved in their praise. But the majority of the focus group rated the flick “excellent”, “very good”, and “good”. Only one person rated it “fair”. Nobody chose “poor”. Marketing data gleaned from the screening: folks felt (thank Christ) that no subtitle (i.e.
Clerks II: The Second Coming
) was needed;
Clerks II
said it all. And much to the delight of the Weinstein Company, no one in the focus group felt that seeing the first
Clerks
was necessary in order to dig
Clerks II
.

That top two boxes score is key in the test screening process: it’s the figure that represents the percentage of people who rated the flick “excellent” and “very good”. When the scores are tallied from the survey sheets, there are two figures everyone immediately wants to know: the top two boxes score, and the “definite recommends” (the percentage of those surveyed who say they would definitely recommend the flick to friends). Based on the focus group, Scott and I felt that we were looking at a score of seventy percent in the top two boxes, but neither of us could imagine what the definite recommends figure would be.

When Laurie Eddings brought us the score sheet, she had a smile on her face. Scott and I had told her we thought it was a seventy percent top two box score, and Laurie held up the sheet and said: “It’s better than that.”

The percentage of that audience who rated the film “excellent” was fifty-six percent. The normal average is twenty-five percent. The combined score of the top two boxes was eighty-four percent; the normal top two boxes average is fifty-five percent. We were twenty-nine percent above the average (the average being the score that everyone breathes easier at). Thirteen percent of the audience rated the film as “good”. Two percent rated the film as “fair”. Only one percent rated the film as “poor” (likely the “disgusted” woman).

The “definite recommends” score norm is forty-five percent.
Clerks II
got a seventy-four percent — nearly thirty percent above the norm. Seventy-four percent of that audience said they would definitely recommend the film to their friends, with a vast lion’s share of the remaining twenty-six percent saying they’d “probably” recommend the movie to their friends.

Considering where we were screening, for this flick to score an eighty-four percent with a seventy-four percent definite recommend is nothing short of astounding. Mainstream movies testing in Kansas City score eighty-four percent; a sequel to a black and white indie flick that’s filled with some of the crudest, weirdest shit you’ve ever seen and heard in a movie theater doesn’t score an eighty-four percent. And yet, tonight, it did. In the fucking heartland. In middle-America.

Needless to say, we’re all thrilled.

So thank you, Kansas City, Missouri, for an amazing, very memorable night; you’ve made my life considerably easier. And thanks to Harvey for forcing us to do the test screening; it was definitely worth all the worry leading up to it. And thanks to the cast and crew for all their hard work; without them, there’s no movie to score in the first place.

But most of all, thanks to that mid-thirties woman who walked out in disgust. Because, for a second there, I was beginning to think maybe I’d gone soft in my old age. I’m relieved to know that my sense of humor is still not to everyone’s taste.

Fuck, this movie’s been a sweet-ass ride thus far. God-willing, it’ll continue through ‘til 21 July (and beyond).

Timing is Everything

Thursday 15 June 2006 @ 2:30 p.m.

They say there are only three basic stories that can ever be told: man (or woman) vs. man (or woman), man (or woman) vs. environment, and man (or woman) vs. himself. Every story ever told falls under one of these three basic categories.

A guy posted on the message board over at my home-site,
ViewAskew.com
, inviting people to the premiere of his new movie,
Amber Sunrise
. I peeped the YouTube trailer for the flick and one thought ran through my head...

“Wow... There goes
Name
, I guess.”

Name
was a film that long-time View Askew board folks would remember as the flick that I was talking about making after
Chasing Amy
, circa ‘97. And since this
Amber
picture shares some big similarities with what
Name
was gonna be, I figured my chances of ever making the flick were suddenly null and void. So I wrote a five paragraph synopsis of what the flick was gonna be to share with the folks at the
ViewAskew.com
board, and then, before hitting “submit”... I opted to erase it instead. I may not ever make the flick now, but it’d make a great comic book story, if I ever get around to it. So I opted to hold onto it instead, for the time being.

Regardless, this whole discovery is further proof that good ideas should be enacted on immediately — lest someone else come up with the same good idea, somewhere down the road, and actually bring it to fruition. I’m in no way, shape, or form suggesting plagiarism on this dude’s behalf, mind you; indeed, you can’t plagiarize something that only existed in my head and never saw print. It’s just weird how people can have the same idea sometimes, albeit years apart, in this instance.

This is the second time I’ve had this feeling this year, though. Back in ‘98, I’d pitched this superhero movie to Miramax (that Harvey loved), which was kind of a
Pulp Fiction
anthology flick about a Justice League-of-sorts that is forced to disband, due to a government decree (
à la Watchmen
). The flick would then follow all the characters in different segments, and then bring them together again in the end to take on a common threat (one of their own, gone rogue). The flick was darkly funny and a pretty straightforward take on the superhero mythos; not a tongue-in-cheek affair at all. The
Untitled Superhero Project
was a mainstay in my overall Miramax deal for years, though I never got around to writing it. In 2000, while in pre-production on
Jay and Silent Bob Strike Back
, I pitched it as a show to HBO, and they “bought” it and told me to write a pilot... and, again, I never got around to writing it. Something else always came up.

Anyway, in the segment/chapter of the flick that followed the Wonder Woman-type character, she found out her husband was cheating on her and decided to use her super-powers to do a brutal,
Extremities
kinda thing on the louse (picture the
Reservoir Dogs
ear-slicing scene at twenty minutes long, with super-powers and a lot more than an ear getting cut).

Opening, ironically, on the same day as
Clerks II
is a flick called
My Super Ex-Girlfriend
— which seems to be a light-hearted treatment of similar material.

The moral of the story (which, if you’re keeping track, falls under the heading: man vs. himself) is this: don’t wait. When you’ve got what you feel is a cool, original story to tell... fucking tell it quick. Because if you don’t, sooner or later, someone else will.

Where the Fart Have I Been?!

Sunday 25 June 2006 @ 3:27 p.m.

I’ve been everywhere, man. I’ve been ev-er-y-where.

Spent all of last week going city-by-city, doing advance
Clerks II
press (radio, print, TV) in Minneapolis/St. Paul, Chicago, Detroit and Boston. This week, I’ll be in Philly on Monday, New York on Tuesday, D.C. on Wednesday, Atlanta on Thursday, and Toronto on Friday. If you’re in any of those markets, and you’re up in the mornings, you might be able to hear me on any number of morning radio shows (though none in NYC on Tuesday morning).

Brian O’Halloran and Jeff Anderson (Dante and Randal) have also been out on
the road doing press, visiting San Diego, San Francisco, Portland, Seattle, Denver, Houston and St. Louis. This week, they’ll be in Kansas City, Cleveland and Miami.

As we get closer and closer to 21 July, there’s a bunch of
Clerks II
stuff happening:

The final theatrical poster is in theaters...

As are the teaser posters (including a new Rosario poster)...

An exclusive intro by yours truly and an overview Train Wreck is running at the
Apple.com
’s trailer page.

And in the Sunday edition of the holy
New York Times
, there’s a two page article about
Clerks II
and me...

While two
Clerks II
commercials ran during the NBA Finals last Sunday, the majority of the TV spots begin in earnest this week, mostly on networks like Comedy Central and Spike. There’s a pretty sweet VH-1
Clerks II
special that starts running in a couple of weeks as well. At this point, if the movie doesn’t do okay at the box office, it won’t be for lack of press and coverage.

We’re now less than a month away from opening day, folks. Fingers crossed.

Am I mad at Ben Affleck?

Thursday 29 June 2006 @ 6:46 a.m.

Been reading about how mad I’m supposed to be for not being cast in
Gone, Baby, Gone
. Not that I should have to clarify this, but it’s patently untrue: I am not mad, hurt, or “fuming” at not getting cast in Ben’s flick.

Christ, is it really such a slow news week that what was obviously me joking around has become some kind of column item? I swear...

Lesson learned: if you do press in Boston, and somebody asks you about Ben, just refuse to comment or say anything about the man. Don’t joke about him. Don’t even say the word “Ben”. Because when you do, this kinda shit happens.

You’ve gotta be willfully retarded to take those comments I made seriously. Jesus — irony really is dead.

Was I “fuming” when I cracked that joke? No. Am I “fuming” now? Yes — and NOT at Ben.

Nose-picking and an anal sex primer

Monday 3 July 2006 @ 1:26 p.m.

I get a ton of shit from the wife for how often my finger’s up my nose. Anyone else got one of these spouses/girlfriends/boyfriends?

What’s the big fucking deal? I’m a smoker, so I get boogers. Where’s the harm in digitally cleaning that shit out? It’s not like I’m mining for gold then making a salty deposit in the Oral Bank or something. I pick, and depending on where I am, I flick. If I’m near a tissue, I’ll stuff the fruits of my labor in it, sure. But if no tissue’s handy? Zooooooom! Across the room it goes, for parts unknown. Wherever it lands ain’t my problem; it’s not up my nostrils anymore, and that’s all that matters.

I get a lot of “Just use a tissue to blow your nose, you fucking skeve.” However, blowing your nose doesn’t necessarily do the trick, y’know? The hard and crusties sometimes don’t always budge during the conventional nose-blow. A finger scrub’s the best way to guarantee no danglers. And don’t gimme any of this “Well use the tissue to scrape ’em out” shit; tissues break, and then I’ve got this toxic bullshit up my shnoz as well as the nose crud. Tissues (or toilet paper) is for your ass, I say. THAT’S when you don’t want tactile contact with something coming out of your body: when a stench accompanies it. But boogers have no odor. I don’t use a Kleenex to wipe away sleepers (or eye crud); why the fuck would I use a tissue to get unscented waste out of some other hole in my body?

Why is seeing a finger up someone’s nose considered such bad form? I see someone picking their nose, I’m like “Now THERE’S a motherfucker I can TRUST.” Kids are notorious nose-pickers, and who’s more trustworthy than a child — unless, of course, that child’s Damien? However, I don’t recall ever seeing Damien pick his nose in either the original
Omen
or the recent remake, which strengthens my point even further: Satan’s spawn DOESN’T pick his nose. Who wants to be like that kid, with the bad bowl-cut and the constant scowl (in the remake, at least), pissing off baboons (in the original) and knocking your mother off a top-floor balcony (in both)? If the Anti-Christ is all about doing the opposite of what’s righteous, maybe picking your nose has the air of divinity about it?

We can learn a lot from those
Omen
flicks. The first time the concept of ass-fucking was introduced to me was via
The Final Conflict
— the under-appreciated third entry in the original
Omen
saga, starring Sam Neill as the now-adult Damien. He hooked up with this reporter lady, and at one point, they’re getting down. Suddenly, he flips the chick over and buries it, all evil-like, in her dumper. As an eleven year-old without the benefit of an internet connection (or an internet, period), I was confused, to say the least. Sure — I knew about conventional sex (I used to shoplift
Hustler
from the local magazine store), but the horror in this woman’s eyes and the physical displeasure she was indicating spoke of some unforgivable act I wasn’t schooled in. I was watching the scene and imagining this dude’s sporting some kind of forked cock (I mean, he IS the devil), that’s got a hydra-like head that’s snapping at this poor lady’s snapper — hence all the crying. I turn to my brother and ask “What the hell’s going on, ya’ think?” And my brother explains that Damien’s getting all sorts of rectal with this chick.