Red State: A Vehicle of Redemption

Red State is a flick that’s been on my radar for a few years now. When I first heard that Kevin Smith was planning on dipping his toes into the horror genre, I was skeptical through-and-through. Sure, Clerks and Chasing Amy are two of my all-time favorite flicks, and I spent many of my most formative years memorizing and reciting the clever quips of Smith’s characters, all of whom seem to have vocabularies that would shame both Sadlier and Oxford. But I just couldn’t imagine Kevin Smith pulling off a legitimately terrifying flick.

Then came a string of Smith movies that did absolutely nothing for me. Clerks II was a veritable Mooby the Golden Calf, desecrating the legacy of a film that I hold as sacred. Zack and Miri Make a Porno was also a let-down, as I got the sneaking suspicion that the director was trying to channel some of the Apatow spirits rather than focus on his unique perspectives. And I didn’t even see Cop Out, but was assured by trusted friends and critics that I wasn’t missing anything.

So when I heard that Red State was actually being produced and that Kevin Smith was going to distribute it himself, my cynicism once again reared its ugly head. I was a scorned lover, unwilling to rekindle the passion that once raged for fear that I would be hurt again. Hell, even the fact that Tarantino enjoyed the movie wasn’t enough to assuage my doubts. Simply put, there was nothing anyone could say that would convince me that this movie would be anything other than a disaster.

But after sitting down and watching Red State, I believe it to be nothing less than Kevin Smith’s redemption as a filmmaker.

In slightly less than an hour and a half, Red State is a testament to the fact that Kevin Smith has completely reinvented himself. As the   writer, director, and editor of the film, Smith makes decisions that are not only spellbinding, but completely unforeseen from the man who penned the phrase snootchie-bootchies. Gone are days of simple angles capturing a pack of guys waxing philosophic about comics and sex. Instead, the camera shucks and jives through some of the most harrowing scenes of recent history, brutality that strums heartstrings because it’s so goddamn realistic. Smith doesn’t pull any punches, tackling the subject of religious fanaticism and the violence it evokes with an admirable candor.

The movie centers around the Five Points Church (which is Smith’s take on the Westboro Baptist Church, with an added smidge of Branch Davidians), whose members are first seen protesting the funeral of a gay teenager. After establishing the church as a group of fear-mongering religious zealots, the viewer is then terrified when taken inside their compound, riding narrative-shotgun with a trio of high schoolers who’ve been kidnapped. At this point, the nightmares begin and never ease up until the film’s conclusion.

And at that point, all that’s left to do is cold-shower away the grim and grit of a hard day’s tragedy.

I’m not yanking your filthy chain, here! This movie kept my ass on the edge of my seat for its duration. Whenever I thought I had it figured out, just when I knew what was going to happen to each character, I was proven wrong. Remember how you felt after Maggie Gyllenhall got axed in The Dark Knight? As though anything is possible and no one is safe? If you take that feeling and force-feed it a couple of Red Bulls, then you’ll have an approximation of watching this flick.

Although the cast of Red State consists of some serious heavyweight contenders (such as John “Walter Sobchak” Goodman and the Academy Award-winning Melissa Leo), Michael Parks steals the show. This is his film the same way that Inglorious Basterds belongs to Christoph Waltz. Parks plays Abin Cooper, the Fred Phelps-analogue that leads his family of Bible-humping bigots to violent extremes. In a sermon that must have lasted at least ten minutes, Parks illustrates just how easily conviction can be used to justify active hatred towards others. Sometimes speaking plainly, other times shouting wrathfully, and even throwing in a lighthearted shuffle or two, Parks depicts the dynamic nature of a preacher who is alluring to his followers and terrifying to all others.

If there’s any justice in the world, the great Michael Parks will be rewarded with a Best Actor nomination.

In my estimation, Kevin Smith has completely redeemed himself with Red State, erasing from my mind any of the silly foibles of the last few years. Anyone familiar with Smith’s body of work will be able to tell that he has pushed himself in this endeavor, progressing as an artist and making a film that he may not have been capable of creating a few years ago. When you tack on the fact that Smith opted not to go through the regular modes of distribution, preferring to take the flick on the road and then releasing it direct-market, it’s impossible not to respect the man for his efforts.

And when you have to get your jaw reattached after watching Red State, it’s impossible not to respect Smith for his art.

The independent spirit of 1994 has been conjured.
Kevin Smith has made a believer of me once again.
God bless Red State.