Ethan Switch - Thursday, August 24, 2006 - Print Version
To the captives in seats rigid and bitch painful to really sit in for long periods, hosts of the event, Popcorn Taxi lets no time pass before reeling into subscriptions and such for their outfit. Ceiling work is pretty ornate and decorative.
For what the board outside various entrances into levels of the State Theatre estimates as a quick and rough Q and A to run only 90 minutes, nothing is done for the fact that planning is never right. Not when the fans are lining up or bobbing for the roving mics to ask the man of the moment, Kevin Smith.
Fresh from the curtains, back after the screening of Clerks II, the orders are clear and clean. Kevin Smith holding the stage and moderating proceedings himself. No fluff, just the straight up gin.
Bouncing from one microphone point to another, questions come shivering through. Answers on the other hand, complex in detail, slight digressions and pointed curses for natural flow and atmosphere.
One case asking has the vocal trembles of Woody Allen. Comical in that part alone, the stammer and utterances during the time behind the question mic elevate the comedy to no end. Audience members giving as good as it gets.
No one asking a question leaves without Kevin Smith taking the time to assure the complete tale, or as complete as possible, satisfies the crave. "What's a Nubian?" gets nothing but silence from all three levels.
Topics fly in from the writing process, the assignments for Marvel Comics, directing the View Askewniverse in general and swearing. Lots of swearing and time on the influence of Richard Linklater and relationship with Jason Mewes.
One sap takes the time to ask a question only to answer it himself. Despite this, Kevin Smith manages to turn the spring up and launch into a more indepth recount on the events that actually led into the entry of Clerks in the Sundance Film Festival all those many years ago.
100 minutes on the floor passes quick. Even the sign printed beforehand by one of the people running around on the ground is no match for Smith who ticks a few seconds in amazement at the logistics with forecasting the session. Two hours is done and gone with the ever increasing shuffling of people as the hands of the clock round a prayer. Two soon rubs up hard behind three.
Time quickly runs into the ushers and owners of the State Theatre. Huffing one final look at their watches, clocks and time pieces, no more signs show up the elapse. Midnight in the city and time to turf the seats out into Market Street.
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