By Sean Burns
"'He's a fuckin' chickenshit! He doesn't want to make big movies because he'll flop and he sucks and he's a hack and so he's going back to the well.'" Kevin Smith laughs, mimicking the Internet trolls that haunt his evenings online and their reaction to the announcement that he was making Clerks II. "'He fuckin' lost it!' they say. Did I ever have it? I don't know if I can lose something I never had."
The charming, endlessly self-deprecating Smith certainly doesn't come off like a big-shot movie director. Curled up on a couch, smoking cigarette after cigarette—much to the consternation of this swanky hotel's staff—the 36-year-old filmmaker is exhausted from yapping to the press all day. He's been at it since early morning, when he captivated drive-time radio audiences with the tale of his recent rectal woes. (An anal fissure, if you must know.) He also explained his reclining posture to a colleague thusly: "Sorry. I'm tired because I fucked my wife last night."
You don't so much interview Kevin Smith as you bullshit with him. Inquisitive, funny and completely unguarded, he asks almost as many questions as you do. Even in this formal setting (somewhat sullied by a glass on a nearby table that's overflowing with cigarette butts) the situation quickly devolves into just a couple of guys sitting around smoking, and talking about comic books and pussy.
To read the rest of the Philadelphia Weekly interview, plus a review of Clerks II, click here.