‘The 4:30 Movie’: A Scrappy Ode to Theater Hopping

There is something buzzy and exciting about sharing something you love with someone you like, and, for the lead of Kevin Smith’s most personal film to date, many people who love the moviegoing and creative experiences will connect with The 4:30 Movie. Smith’s filmography is jam-packed with characters who are fighting to live their lives and their passions on their own terms, but his latest film might be his scrappiest to date. It’s certainly his most personal. The 4:30 Movie fully captures that anticipation of sitting alone in the dark and letting an experience strap you in for an unexpected ride. It’s touching and spirited.

“You sure know a lot about movies,” says Melody Barnegat, the object of desire of Brian, our curly-haired hero and stand-in for Smith. It’s May of 1986–the day of Hands Across America–and Brian intends to spend the day watching movies at his local three-screen theater. If you have ever worked at a small theater before, you will love the setting of Smith’s latest film. Megan and I are both survivors of the late Carmike Cinemas Cranberry 8, and those vests and bowties are the source of my PTSD. Brian, along with his friends–the cocky Burney and the kooky, bacon-toting Belly–will pay for one movie before Melody joins them and they sneak into something rated R.

The setup up Smith’s film is remarkably simple, but it’s packed with fun characters and his trademark sharp dialogue. Brian, Belly, and Burney are killing time in a place that they love, and they have to avoid the ire of the self-important manager, played to angry, pathetic perfection by Ken Jeong. When the trio sits down in their first movie, Smith treats us to a batch of fake trailers, and I need Sister Sugar Walls (about a nun who turns to prostitution to help the needy kids) to get financed immediately. It’s like 1984’s Angel (a movie that I remember seeing far too often at several video stores in my hometown) topped off with a bleached-blonde MaXXXine wig.

One might not assume that I, a notorious homosexual who threatens to get swishier with every passing day, do not have a kinship with Smith’s filmography, but I am here to disspel that notion. I only bring this up because Smith’s film is so personal, and it’s deeply rooted not in nostalgia but in memory. His films have always showcased the strength of male bonding, but The 4:30 Movie presents us with that in its purest form. There has alway been something recognizable in how Smith’s characters don’t talk about their feelings, but we know they are there. I remember when I was 14 or 15, and an older friend showed me Mallrats for the first time and I felt something similar between him and me and Jason Lee and Jeremy London. Under all that mischief in any of Smith’s films, there is an unspoken love.

I love that Smith is a filmmaker who unabashedly speaks to his love of cinema, the cinematic experience, and filmmaking. He acknowledges that the experience of watching something lives within us and it can change over time (track down Sav Rodgers’ fantastic documentary Chasing Chasing Amy). The 4:30 Movie takes us back to that affectionate spark. Brian crushes on Melody as much as he, and we, adore the experience of going to the movies: standing in line and debating quotes, the smell of stale popcorn, those old school theater seats where it felt good to slouch in them, wondering if you sould make a move and hold your date’s hand. Smith’s film is about coming of age, but it’s also about coming to terms of embracing your passions.

The 4:30 Movie is in theaters now.