Kevin Smith gets personal in the new issue of Quick Stops, in which the filmmaker himself appears to tell us a story about his friendship with the late Shannen Doherty and the genesis of his cult classic Clerks followup, Mallrats. Along the way, Smith and artist Ryan Gajda offer fans a glimpse into an alternate reality, one in which Smith’s long-gestating “Twilight of the Mallrats” was filmed and Doherty was able to reprise her role of Rene alongside Jason Lee’s Brodie.
In his own self-deprecating and endearing way, Smith frames the story as a knowing nod to Grant Morrison’s Animal Man, in which the writer makes himself known to the reader. Smith acts as the narrator for the story, taking us through his first meeting with Doherty and peeling back the layers of her public persona to show us the warm and funny person she was to the folks she held dear. Smith gives her a great deal of credit for making Mallrats a reality, and even touches on some of their other interactions over the years as they kept in touch and dreamed of an eventual sequel that sadly never got made. Gajda does a lovely job of tracking the progression of these real-life figures, showing them physically aging over the course of the issue, even as their body language remains relaxed and gentle.
As Smith notes in the issue, the pair actually recorded an episode of Doherty’s podcast in which they read a scene together from his unproduced script. This scene makes up the bulk of the book, depicting a separated Brodie and Rene as they argue about their daughter. This scene fits the aesthetic of Mallrats to a tee, illustrating that Brodie never quite grew up. His room is a mess and covered in nerdy paraphernalia. He stumbles from room to room with a bizarre air of intention, like an oaf who hasn’t figured out yet that he’s not the success story he thinks he is. Meanwhile, Rene is poised and confident, a professional woman who only melts when she remembers how much she really loved this beautiful idiot. It’s a nice glimpse into what could have been.
The one drawback to this would be that the tiny morsel of “Twilight of the Mallrats” that we get here is presented with minimal context. Smith gives us a quick primer on the events that immediately preceded this scene, but we don’t get much else in the way of backstory or table setting. It’s a nice glimpse into a story that will likely remain untold, but it’s difficult to judge it on its own merits. It just feels incomplete.
And maybe that’s the point. Some stories don’t get the proper endings we hoped for, just like some lives are tragically cut short before their time. Kevin Smith has unfortunately had to bid a great many friends adieu over the years, and the odd structure of this issue is a fitting tribute to a screen presence who had so much more to give. In many ways, this feels like the most personal comic book Smith has ever written, and I’d say that makes it an indispensable tome for fans of the Askewniverse.
