Review: Zack and Miri Make a Porno

For the guy who may be the reigning poet laureate of dick jokes, Kevin Smith is really sentimental. Ignoring that Jersey Girl could run comfortably in a Lifetime marathon between Steel Magnolias and Stepmom, only a pathological degree of affection could carry a one-track duo like Jay and Silent Bob from countless cameos to an entire movie of their own (made up of…more cameos). Sure, the Askew-niverse is a lucrative place by now, but Smith has consistently delivered from there with enthusiasm, if not much else.

In a bizarre confluence of material and maker, the auteur has found the most unlikely story in which to invest a surplus of warm and fuzzy feelings: the making of amateur hardcore pornography. Approach Zack and Miri Make a Porno as a 180 degree flip of Boogie Nights. For all PT Anderson’s sleazy epic has taught us about the sinister, violent, abusive nature of the industry, Smith’s microcosmic version is unbiased (in every way possible), charming, and impossibly romantic. To crib from a running joke between stars Rogen And Banks, call it When Harry Banged Sally.

And it’s funny. It’s bluntly, relentlessly, almost angrily funny. When it comes to bringing the audience into worlds they care nothing about, Smith can be smart. But give him a topic no one wants to discuss and he’s inspired. Throw in a generous donation of Apatow All-stars and he’s damn near reinvented. Emphasis on near.

Zach (Seth Rogen) and Miri (Elizabeth Banks) are high-school-buddies turned roommates both struggling to make it in the slushy wonderland of Pittsburgh. Bad jobs and worse judgment have built a mountain of debt between them. Alcohol, bad clothes, and a masturbatory aid called a Fleshlight are purchased in lieu of water, heat, and electricity. Eviction looms. A visit to their high school reunion (a mother lode of priceless dialogue) implies that their current state of loser-dom is actually a chronic one.

In spite of Miri being desperate for a good lay and Zach being the most modern of hedonists (hence the Fleshlight), the relationship is a chaste one. They have lived together for years with nary a grope between them, thus with innocence and desperation they agree to finance their living expenses with an internet sex tape marketed directly to their former high school classmates. For lack of a better term, you can see the end coming from a mile away.

The real surprises are in the performances. Craig Robinson’s opening rant on the racial implications of Black Friday is masterfully Pryor-esque. Rogen and Banks have a knack for low-key delivery that suits the writing (again, Smith’s best work in years) and a brand of chemistry the movie simply could not exist without. The real shocker comes from Jason Mewes, who isn’t just good for Jason Mewes, but really good, period. His Zen-calm sex-beast Lester is the mascot of the film: understated and unexpectedly sweet.

Unfortunately once the deed is done, things get awkward. Smith goes from his best to his most mediocre in the last fifteen minutes. It sprints to an ending that isn’t particularly graceful nor satisfying, certainly not what an otherwise stellar comedy deserves. Then again, the success of a porno has never hinged on its plot.

In theaters October 31st.