Tusk

Never before has a film stirred up this many emotions. Giddiness at the amazing dialogue, astonishment at the strong, solid acting, unease in regards to the plot, disgust at the reveal, annoyance at the one-dimensional portrayal of women and finally triumph as the drum solo from Fleetwood Mac’s “Tusk” finally hits the screen.

Here’s the thing: ever since Kevin Smith announced his next film’s title, all I wanted was to hear the Fleetwood Mac song in the soundtrack. Mission accomplished!

The rest of the film seems like it’s also accomplished what it set out to do. This isn’t to say Tusk is a good film…or a bad one. In light of the seeming death of creativity in Hollywood, where consumers face plenty of choices as long as they’re sequels, prequels or reboots, Tusk is a breath of fresh air; it’s a film that rises above its genre in its originality, driven by the above-average script and top-notch acting.

However, at the end of the day, Tusk suffers under the weight of its own originality. It’s a movie that began life as a stoner’s flight of fancy, and should have died there. That it didn’t is a testament to Smith; he cares about his passionate fan base and creative control (a move he proved with his last film Red State, when he famously auctioned the distribution rights, only to sell them to himself). Tusk is the movie Smith wanted to make, and I get the feeling from watching it that he could care less if anyone else enjoys the movie.

Perhaps this is for the best. While total creative control can occasionally lead to bloat (see the excessive page count of Harry Potter and the Order of the Phoenix), in the right hands total creative control can birth something wonderful, which is the case with Tusk. Smith knows his premise is hard to swallow, so he grounds it in reality: the mis-en-scene of northern Manitoba through the eyes of a self-centered asshole (played to perfection by Justin Long) who sees the old man alone in a mansion (Michael Parks) as nothing more than fodder for his podcast. Some actors have always handled Smith’s rapid-fire dialog better than others (Salma Hayek in Dogma being an example of having a tough time with Smith’s sentence structure), but everyone here, from the top-billed actors (Parks, Long) to the bit players (Canadian border guard Harley Morenstein) deliver Smith’s lines like they’re second nature. This does present a problem with Long’s girlfriend (Genesis Rodriguez), forced to deliver a monologue halfway through the film that smacks of being written by a man who can’t write women that well.

But the girlfriend-as-window-dressing is the only vestige of Hollywood found throughout this movie. Truth be told, Tusk feels like a throwback to the 1970s, when character studies ruled the day. Tusk is our generation’s Taxi Driver, with desolate Manitoba subbing for New York City, Michael Parks inheriting Robert de Niro’s steely determination, and Justin Long getting his comeuppance when he refuses to respect those around him.

At the end of the day, Tusk still manages to be a bad movie. The best performances in the world combined with the most gorgeous cinematography can’t elevate the subject matter from being what it is: one of those ideas that sounds better when you’re drunk than when you’re sober. But for as bad as it is, there’s also an equal amount of good in Tusk. It’s as refreshing as it is unsettling, and thus an important. Just make sure you have something happy queued up on Netflix once this movie gets released to VOD: you’ll need a mind-chaser once the final credits have rolled.

tl;drs

Blank is a blanker version of blank: Tusk is like a 1970s version of The Human Centipede.

Screen credits over/under: Like it or not, this is a Kevin Smith movie. While light years from the subject matter of his earlier films, Tusk features Smith’s trademark dialogue

Recommended if you like: Character studies, unexpected cameos.

Better than I expected: All the actors deliver solid performances, especially Long, who is required to act with his eyes by the end of the film.

Tusk would work better as a(n): It really should have stayed a stoner’s fancy. I blame the Internet.

Verdict: While I can’t recommend Tusk in good conscience, if you do watch it you won’t soon forget it.