DOGMA (1999) Grade: C Director: Kevin Smith Screenplay: Kevin Smith Starring: Matt Damon, Ben Affleck, Linda Fiorentino, Jason Mewes, Chris Rock, Salma Hayek, George Carlin, Jason Lee, Alan Rickman, Kevin Smith, Alanis Morissette, Janeane Garofalo "You know, pregnant women can have sex up until their third trimester," one of the holy prophets so eloquently points out just as this bloated flick ambles to its bloated finale. The prophet is played by perennial Kevin Smith stoner, Jason Mewes, who utters all his dialogue in witless colloquialisms. Mewes reminds me of the members of Howard Stern's Wack Pack: The radio host regularly invites individuals with peculiar speech impediments to invoke scripted lines on his show. Their is the stutterer who harasses celebrities with queries like, "A-a-a-are you s-s-still in sh-showbizness?", the Woody Allen soundalike made to say...well you can imagine. Mewes is a comparative performer, a one-noter who delivers all his lines (no matter what they are) in a similarly loopy, zonked out, phonation. Admittedly, I did laugh at Mewes' stoned-beyond repair schtick in Smith's earlier works, but this act has not aged well. Must this dimwit be in every Kevin Smith movie? To call him one-dimensional would be rather complimentary. Smith's insistence on sticking with the character smacks of insecurity with his new material. That being DOGMA, a religious comic fantasy, in which Smith sprinkles his philosophies regarding organized religion and Catholicism amid a flurry of dick jokes. Matt Damon and Ben Affleck play two fallen angels, whom we first encounter in an airport discussing a loophole in Catholic Dogma that could possibly get them back into heaven. Damon and Affleck both posses an affable charm that suites the blandly attractive stars well. They play their roles like a couple of frat boys presuming to emulate religious entities. British thespian Alan Rickman is a good angel on a mission to obstruct the evil frat boy angels, who will unknowingly negate our existence if they succeed in their plan. He approaches a lapsed catholic, abortion clinic employee (sorry for being so verbose, I just couldn't resist putting the words "abortion" and "catholic" in the same description), Bethany (Linda Fiorentino) to aid him in the crusade. Bethany's character is later related more relevantly, but I won't give that away. She sets out on an adventure with two "prophets" (Jay and Silent Bob), and a black apostle, Rufas (Chris Rock), who falls out of the sky bare-ass naked. As Smith uses his story to jump back and forth between both predicaments, he manipulates his characters as vessels in which to voice his own (presumably) religious ideologies. Whenever this occurs (and it does frequently) the flick falls into preachy didacticism; the proceedings are halted for Professor Smith to give us a little lesson. We do get some of Smith's trademark raucous humor, but delivered without the panache that is desperately needed. Smith knows that comedy is about unexpectedly juxtaposing incongruities, unfortunately, here, he doesn't seem to realize that timing is equally important. Also problematic is his severely dull directing "style". The director has yet to become aware of film as a visual medium. Nor is he conscious of how to properly position his actors in front of the camera. The frame is constantly cluttered, as if everyone had fallen into place. Smith has never been a great director, but this was less than noticeable in low budget movies about impudent clerks or slackers passing the time in a mall. With DOGMA, Smith has switched genres. He's making an adventure. One that is without action or movement, a stagnant talkfest with lessons! This wouldn't be so bad if he were able to elicit more laughs from his cast. Oddly enough, most of the actors seem rushed, and unsure of the material they are proclaiming. Rickman speaks so rapidly we miss many of his punch lines. Mewes doesn't seem to be aware of where his punch lines are. It's as if everyone were in a hurry to get to the conclusion. Though that's doubtful; the conclusion is easily DOGMA's weakest, most incoherent sequence. Damon and Affleck give the most seasoned performances, at least early on. Damon plays the more pugnacious of the two, an angel of death who gets off on taking out his wrath on the not so innocent. Affleck plays good angel to Damon's bad angel. Constantly fretting over Damon's irate jabbering, Affleck's hang dog mug and Caesar hair cut conjures up that of an emasculated puppy. Watching the two riff off each other is the movies prime regalement. I kept envisioning a much better DOGMA, one that focused solely on these rascally fellows. Suddenly, without warning their dynamic is incongruously switched. Following an embarrassingly staged brawl aboard a train, Affleck's character is altered from puppy dog to bull dog. He has an epiphany, turns certifiable and regenerates as his own angel of death. The switch is completely out of character, and pointless; there is no pay off. As for the other actors, never have I seen such a talented group do more execrable work. The usually deft, husky voiced Fiorentino is laughably miscast; like Demi Moore in STRIPTEASE, she doesn't seem to be aware that she's acting in a comedy. Chris Rock is adept at handling the one liners (when asked if he knew Jesus, Rock delivers the best line; "Knew him? Nigger owes me $12 bucks!"), but unable to inject anything in the corny You-can-do-it speeches he ladles on Bethany. Jason Lee, another Smith regular, overacts his demonic role, aggrandizing each line. He's like a child, playing demon, but never becoming the malevolent figure he's ostensibly aiming for. Other appearances include Salma Hayek (as a stripper who never strips yet somehow manages to pull in large quantities of dough), comedian George Carlin (as a gravel voiced priest), a mute Alanis Morisette, and Janeane Garafolo in a cameo too tiny to even comment on. The disjointed performances puzzled me more than anything. Where these talented thesps so mis-directed as to act as if they were appearing in a lousy high school play, not a major motion picture? I like Smith's other films. I even believe his much-maligned MALLRATS has some merits, but his talents are beginning to seem increasingly limited. The slacker\stoner whimsy that imbued the Jersey Trilogy (CLERKS, MALLRATS, CHASING AMY), with contemporary mid-90's immaturity (albeit wily immaturity) has grown tiresome. And I didn't even mention the shit monster. . .
http://www.geocities.com/incongruity98 (Ron's Movie Reviews)
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