In “Red State,” a federal agent (John Goodman) tracks a hate group based on the real-life Westboro Baptist Church. (Everett Collection / Everett Col)
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Why should you pay 60 bucks to see Kevin Smith personally present his new movie “Red State” at Radio City Music Hall tomorrow?
“I’m like the Springsteen of talk. I’m the last man standing,” says the New Jersey director, whom you may recognize as the (somewhat ironically) nonspeaking half of Jay and Silent Bob, the stoner duo in many of Smith’s movies.
The 40-year-old filmmaker got his start in 1994 with the black-and-white indie “Clerks,” and has been building his personal brand ever since. He knows his rapid-fire, smartass, gross-out movies aren’t for everyone: “I’ve learned this over 17 years. I’ll get some [people], and I’ll make some turn around in disgust and want my death.
“But if I can get into your ear for a little bit, I think we can be friends. I’m honest and candid, and I can talk in a way that most people don’t want to.”
“Red State,” which stars Oscar winner Melissa Leo, doesn’t feature Smith’s usual cast of strip-mall slackers. It revolves around a thinly veiled, murderous caricature of Fred Phelps and the Westboro Baptist Church, the tiny but press-grabbing hate group that regularly holds virulent anti-gay (anti-Jewish, anti-Catholic, anti-Muslim, you name it) protests — often, at funerals. They made headlines just this week when the Supreme Court upheld their right to do so.
Smith recalls the day he met Phelps in person. “It was frightening,” he says. “He comes in looking like your grandfather, comes across as homespun, and he opens his mouth and what comes out is just vile. He sounds like Hitler. I’m like, this guy is f – – king terrifying. Someone should do a horror movie where he’s the villain.”
Now that he’s done it, Smith says he’s pretty much done with filmmaking. He’s working on a hockey movie at the moment, and that, he says, will be the end of it. “I’m just kinda finished,” he says. “I came into this [business] all piss and vinegar, with stories to tell, and now I can tell stories elsewhere. Even Gretzky retired. He knew when it was time to hang it up.
“I was never made to be a filmmaker,” he adds. “It was a very uncomfortable fit for me as a director. I always thought I wore directing like I wear a suit. You’d be like, ‘Well, he’s dressed, but something’s wrong.’ It’s not my natural condition.”
Not that Smith is going off the grid. He’s simply found other, more immediately satisfying ways to voice his “askew” worldview: on his prolific Twitter page and in his multiple podcasts (or “smodcasts,” as he calls them) — which he’ll soon be expanding into a full-fledged Internet radio station, set to launch May 9.
“I like to spin plates,” he says. “All these podcasts and live shows, it’s all leaning towards going daily. I can talk. I’m not saying it’s all interesting, but I can fill air. And we’ve got a ground base of about 300,000 people downloading the shows every week.”
He’s also been downsizing — himself. The director, who was kicked off a Southwest Airlines flight a year ago for allegedly being too large, has dropped 65 pounds. How did he do it?
Not with surgery, not with a master cleanse, and not with the help of a diet guru to the stars.
“I remember this ‘Bloom County’ cartoon where Opus was like, ‘I want to lose weight,’ and Milo was like, ‘Just eat less and exercise more,’ ” he says. “It’s a simple equation. I got onto those Weight Watchers meals you microwave. And I live in the Hollywood Hills. There’s a hill next to my house; if you walk up and back, it’s a mile and a half.”
So now he’s all slimmed down for the glam Radio City gig, followed by a nationwide tour with the movie he’s self-distributing (and which will open in regular theatrical release in October).
He’s not sure how many people will actually turn up tomorrow night; the minimum 1,700 tickets have been sold, but he’s still far from filling up the cavernous hall. “We were never gonna sell the place out,” he says. Which is why he’s giving tickets away — to any NYPD cop who wants one.
“I was in New York, wearing my ‘Puck U’ hockey jersey under my long trench coat, and I hear this voice go, ‘Nice jersey.’ And I see this NYPD van with a guy on the mike. I’m like, that f – – king rocks. I got a shout-out from the NYPD.”
He’s not sure whether Westboro Baptist — which has already picketed the movie at Sundance and elsewhere — will show up for the big day. “I don’t want to be so gauche as to invite them,” he says. “But it’s the kickoff of the tour. How could they not?”
Besides, he continues, “I’d rather [they protest] my show than some 9-year-old girl’s funeral in Phoenix.”