Drenched in masturbatory nostalgia, Clerks III sees Kevin Smith return to the well once again. But amid the cloying and self-satisfied sentimentality, there're still hints of charm. nataliakeogan's review:
is far from a perfect film. Absolutely drenched in masturbatory nostalgia and teeming with timely Marvel references, it milks the last drop of creative potential these nearly 30-year-old characters are capable of providing. Yet, somehow, these marked setbacks don’t completely bog the film down. There’s no precise reason why writer/director/editor Kevin Smith’s second revisit to the 1994 debut that catapulted his career is effective at all.
Dante and Randall still find themselves behind the cash register, 16 years later, at the Quick Stop convenience store in Leonardo, New Jersey. Despite endingwith their de facto ownership of the previously incinerated business, they still operate as the film’s title suggests: As front-facing customer service workers fed up with their jobs.
Apparently, the stress of assuming a perpetual slacker lifestyle causes Randall to suffer a heart attack, which the doctor dubs a “widow-maker” coronary due to the high percentage of patients who succumb to the illness. With only a 20% shot at survival, Randall manages to make it through.
It’s true that Smith’s work hasn’t historically gone over well with critics. It’s equally true that the director is thin-skinned when it comes to these criticisms, allowing any and all backlash to further unmoor him from the prospect of taking cinematic risks. His films with original premises—