When looking at the new wave of independent films made by young American directors that started in the 1990s, we tend to gravitate towards the likes of Quentin Tarantino and Paul Thomas Anderson as the most pertinent examples of the rambunctious talents that traded audacity for the chance to make films inspired by their own love for cinema. However, someone that is just as responsible for consolidating this movement and helping it gain enough steam to launch many future careers is Kevin Smith. Recently, his work has not been particularly popular outside of the niche group of devotees that always support his work, regardless of quality, and as a result he is unfortunately seen to have lost that ambitious spirit that guided his career earlier on, and which ultimately played a considerable role in developing him into one of the more interesting filmmakers of his generation. However, this doesn’t invalidate the fact that Smith made arguably the best example of a purely independent film in the form of his debut, Clerks. Made on a shoestring budget that the director himself had to cobble together himself (not having any support during the production of the film), and filmed on location in the same New Jersey convenience store that inspired Smith to pick up the camera, Clerks remains a masterpiece of independent cinema, and a film that continues to influence generations of viewers. The film was followed over a decade later by the entertaining but undeniably minor Clerks II, which offered us another day with these characters (and a few new additions to their motley crew), and now concluded with Clerks III, which is not only a terrific throwback to the film that captured the collective attention of both viewers and the industries nearly three decades ago, but a spectacular return to form for Smith, who may have not ceased making films that interested him, but returned to his roots in a way that felt authentic and meaningful, and ultimately gives viewers the opportunity to spend one final day with these cherished characters before presumably bidding them adieu.

The trope of “we’re getting the gang back together” is one that has been used so many times in various media, it has become quite a taut cliche, and something that is seen as just a lazy way of capitalizing on modern audience’s fascination with nostalgia, which has somehow taken on an even more worrying place in the culture in the past decade (how else can we explain the seemingly endless stream of reboots, remakes and revivals as anything other than the industry continuing to rest on their laurels, hoping that viewers will be attuned to the same wavelength that made these projects so successful in the first place). Smith is not someone who embodies the spirit of complex and subversive artistry, but he is also a very good filmmaker, and someone who understands that, as effective as nostalgia may be, it isn’t enough to just anticipate the audience’s excitement, and that it is perfectly appropriate to revisit old material, granted it is done in a way that feels genuine and earned, rather than just an opportunity to reignite the passions of the past. Clerks III is the exact film that Smith needed to make when he spoke about revisiting the world of these characters, which he had hinted at for nearly a decade before finally determining the right angle to take in terms of bringing us back into this environment with these unforgettable characters. Clerks III is very much a film that was designed to remind us of the elements that made the original film so brilliant and effective, but also different enough in its ability to actively tinker with the familiar terrain and beloved characters, turning them into something thoroughly memorable without essentially just doing exactly what was done previously. Smith is too shrewd a filmmaker, and someone who also respects his audience far too much, to actually believe that it is ever possible to recreate the same cultural phenomenon by repeating the same actions, instead pursuing something quite different, but also not abandoning the most beloved elements at the same time, a smart decision that ultimately worked very well in this film’s favour.

Smith has many curious quirks embedded in his directorial style, such as the tendency to infuse all of his films with some degree of his own experiences, whether it be subjects that fascinate him, or his background (the entire View Askewniverse that he has meticulously constructed over the course of a quarter of a century centres around his home state of New Jersey, for example), each one having a very bespoke touch that links them all together. Clerks III is by far his most personal film, which is done not only through being a voyage back to the place where it all started (both literally and metaphorically), but also considering how much of his own life inspired this story. It doesn’t take too much time to figure out that Smith is using this film to look back at his own journey as an artist. He is a character in his own film, not only in the form of the iconic Silent Bob that he has played for decades, but also in the form of being the authorial voice guiding this film, using the story to reflect on his own journey to becoming a film director. The characters he created in 1994 start to morph into Smith himself, who uses the film as a platform to focus on exploring the journey many artists take to realize their vision – and rather than depending on trite cliches or unnecessarily convoluted demonstrations of his own sense of self-importance, Smith instead crafts a playful and extraordinarily clever account of the filmmaking process as he remembers it, one that is both self-aware and deeply entertaining, being the perfect collision of a semi-autobiographical account of the artistic process, and a piece of meta-commentary on the independent film industry itself. It was a risky gambit choosing to use the final entry into a decades-long trilogy to reflect on the creation of the first film, but if there was ever going to be someone who could effectively do this, Smith is certainly a strong contender, since his astounding passion for the medium has been reflected in nearly every one of his films, particularly those that carry his distinct characteristics, and are often defined by these personal touches, since they evoke a sense of warmth and familiarity in otherwise outrageously funny, off-the-wall films.

Something that audiences may not anticipate when venturing into the final chapter of the Clerks trilogy is that this is an unexpectedly emotional film. There are still an abundance of jokes, and the humour is as razor-sharp as ever (in fact, this film contains some of Smith’s best writing to date when it comes to satirizing several subjects), but they’re sharply contrasted with a deep sense of sadness – not necessarily for the end of a saga, since the entire film was made specifically to tie up the loose ends and give these characters a satisfying conclusion, but rather because of how it looks back at some very profound themes. Every idea that was introduced in the 1994 film is somehow referenced here – concepts of friendship, the search for love and the feeling of uncertainty when looking towards the future (which were the bedrocks of Clerks) are assimilated into this film, acting as the foundation for one of the most surprisingly complex elegies on the process of ageing we’ve seen in quite some time. Clerks III is filled to the brim with earnest emotion, and it is not afraid to make some bold choices in favour of telling a story that feels right for these characters. Far too many supposedly “final” entries into a franchise may make it seem like it is conclusive, but never fully abandon the idea of revisiting these characters again in the future. Clerks III closes the door on Dante and Randal in such a way that we are unlikely to see these characters again, both logistically and spiritually – but it never feels like Smith is making the wrong choice in choosing to conclude the trilogy, since it may feel incredibly bittersweet (and no one seems to be more emotional about the conclusion of this chapter than Smith himself), but it is a perfect and fitting way to end the trilogy, and the characters’ journeys as a whole. Every emotion feels genuine, and it is wonderful to see nearly everyone from the previous two films (and beyond, since there are a couple of familiar faces from other corners of the View Askewniverse that appear throughout the film) show up for one final victory lap, which helps give Clerks the send-off it certainly deserved.

Clerks III is a slight oddity of a film – it wasn’t necessarily something that had to be made, since a lot of the discourse around a final entry into the series was fueled by Smith himself, who spoke openly about his desire to return to this world – its a rare case of an artist being the primary source for their own hype, but it just demonstrates how deeply affectionate he is of the world he created – and with good reason, since without the lightning-in-a-bottle success of Clerks in 1994, he’d have most likely struggled to make it into the industry. All a director needs to make a name for themselves is one solid work that catches the right people’s attention, and this was exactly the case for Clerks. It seemed inevitable that he’d voyage into this world one last time, but few of us could have anticipated it being quite as emotional as this, which only strengthens the bond the director has with both the characters whose stories he told across these three films over the course of nearly three decades, and the audiences who supported him in these endeavours, and who seemed to be his primary motivation for revisiting these characters. As a result, this is a film that may not work as a standalone piece, since a lot of the impact of the story comes with at least a marginal knowledge of the previous two entries, with some of the most moving moments coming through references to the existing films. However, it never feels like fan service, and Smith genuinely puts in the effort to tell a story that he knows is worth our time, taking us on this meaningful journey back to the Quick-Stop, giving us the chance to spend a little more time with these lovable characters before seeing them off – not many directors get such an opportunity, and even fewer manage to revisit their earlier work and have it feel so profoundly moving. However, when you are as passionate about the subject as Smith was, it’s inevitable that this would be a fitting conclusion. It may not have been necessary, but I doubt there’s any fan of this universe that will not be at least slightly moved by this genuinely heartfelt, bittersweet and undeniably funny conclusion to a very special series that means a great deal to many people.