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Like all of Smith’s films, Chasing Amy is front loaded with a lot of conversational gristle, mostly in the form of Showy Expositional Dialogue™. Characters launch into needless tirades on pointless subjects, mostly designed to kill five minutes of screen time, as well as illustrate how hip and edgy the director thinks he is. It usually sounds like uninspired filler to me, and when it isn’t relative to the plot it simply feels like a lazy copout. At least when Tarantino does it there’s often more meaning behind it and even when there isn’t at least you can count on someone eventually getting shot. In this case, we don’t even get ten minutes into the film without yet another inane rant about the social inequality of the Star Wars universe. Smith’s observations on Star Wars would be funny if they had any relevance, and if I hadn’t already heard them all back in ninth grade. But as I said, every character in a typical Kevin Smith movie IS Kevin Smith. They’re all so full of the same self referential snark and bluster so that it’s often hard to tell them apart.

A day or two later Holden is slumming at yet another bar, playing darts with a plucky artist named Alyssa (Joey Lauren Adams) whom he met through a mutual friend. They trade ham fisted witticisms on life and love while throwing darts into the camera for 90 seconds, and just like that - he’s in love with her. It’s a little hard to believe, and not just because of how fast it happens. Adams and Affleck have zero chemistry and what’s worse; Alyssa is afflicted with Adams’ slouchy comportment and shrill, birdlike voice. I don’t usually say things like “I wish Drew Barrymore was in this movie” but in this case, I really do. At any rate, Holden and Alyssa (surprise!) turn out to be from the same part of New Jersey and they both happen to sound exactly like Kevin Smith when they talk. Holden is convinced that its fate. I’m convinced the dialogue just sucks.

Meanwhile, Holden is so busy seeing unicorns and puppies that he almost fails to notice that Alyssa is gay. And she’s not just gay; she’s VERY gay, and she’s dating a girl who is so ridiculously hot, it’s like rubbing salt into Holden’s disbelieving eyes. The revelation is actually pretty amusing, and when I originally saw this movie in the theater I recall being incredibly bored up until this point. Now I found myself riveted to the screen, and not just because two attractive women were sucking each other’s tonsils out. It was because for the first time in memory, I was able to actually relate to someone in a Kevin Smith movie. They weren’t just an obnoxious manifestation of the director’s compulsiveness, they were real. And it was because I too had once been in love with a Lesbian.

I had met her the year before, and she was a Vampire Goth. These were far more than just people who liked to listen to Bauhaus and wear black all the time, like me. Vampire Goths practically invented cosplay - they made their own clothes and stood around looking like characters from an Anne Rice novel. They spoke in riddles and despite the oppressive heat coming off the dance floor, they sipped Merlot from ridiculous silver goblets - most likely imagining it was something else. My girl was beautiful, intelligent, witty and always in character. I was smitten. I was utterly besotted. It was bliss. It was torture. It was wonderful. It was horrible. And it was never, EVER going to happen. She was gay, I was not, and I tried everything in the book to get her home with me. It was a running joke we ran through each time I saw her, although she was the only one who found it funny.

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