...cutting to the chase, and thusly, this viewer's point...yes, folks!! Welcome to 'wackyland'...where indeed, it can happen here. Only, in the case of writer/director Kevin Smith's latest departure from his sometimes angst, often poignant, pop-culture savvy, and invariably comical New Jersey-based exploits...namely, a skewed, horror-themed venture, called "Tusk"...'wackyland', and the film's unconventional Canadian setting...well, if one truly considers it, the former and the latter really don't seem all that far removed from each other, in Kevin's eyes...much to the benefit, intrigue and chagrin of those privy to the new film, as you shall soon see...
...directing and hosting a popular online talk show, which features odd people, doing strange things, sensationalist podcaster Wallace Bryton endeavors to do a follow-up piece with one such recently featured person, living in Manitoba, Canada. Flying up to that region, Wallace finds himself disappointedly taken aback, when the subject of his proposed piece, is found to have killed himself. To justify the cost of his trip, in hopes of perhaps finding another conveniently juxstapositioned 'strange & interesting' prospect, Wallace decides to wait things out for an additional day...and to his relief and elation, thanks to a posted letter in the men's room of one of the local bars, he decides to take a rather intriguing chance on an elderly gentleman, offering residence in his secluded home, during which time, he says that he would be quite eager to related countless interesting stories of his life, and his adventures, over the years...
...despite an approached lack of couth and tact in his arrogant demeanor, Wallace nonetheless becomes all the more intrigued, upon meeting Howard Howe...a warm, weathered and distinguished face to match the letter's equally warm and inviting scribe...and relishing his stately, almost museum-like abode. Without missing a beat...having seat Wallace down to a comfortable fireside pouring of some rather tasty tea...a wheelchair-restricted Howard immediately opens up a vivid regalia of life stories, stemming back to his youth...amongst them, his harrowing wartime experiences, and his having exclusively met Ernest Hemingway. However, it is the incredible and compellingly endearing episode, related by Howard, of an early shipwreck excursion...during which time, he is subsequently rescued by...and invariably forms a rather strange 'rapport' with...a walrus, of all things...which captivates Wallace, most attentively...a captivation, which strangely seems to have an almost mind-numbing effect, as he strains...st-st-strains ever so much to st-st-stay awake...an effort, which proves to be of no avail, as Wallace passes out at the feet of his elatingly smirking host...
...having awoken numbingly back to consciousness, the following morning, Wallace is shocked and stunned at having been inexplicably strapped down and confined to a wheelchair of his own...uh, with what appears to be his left leg, severed from his body, just above the knee. Even in his mentally hazy state, a horrified Wallace finds it disbelievingly hard to swallow, the conveniently woven story, told by Howard...who is inexplicably seen on the opposite side of the room, whittling something to a sharp point...the a poisonous spider was responsible for his collapse, as well as the subsequent 'necessity' for the amputation of his leg. And as Wallace's captive hours stretch into days, he quickly begins to realize and bear witness to an unspeakable niche of madness in his host, which he has become the chance hapless unwilling recipient of...a madness by which, as an unwitting participant in...Wallace invariably and reluctantly becomes the initially unwilling conduit, in a most horrific 'reunion'...
...now, right off the bat, this viewer cannot help but candidly admit...this was the very first non-Jersey themed, non-Jay & Silent Bob, non-Dante & Randal 'Kevin Smith' movie, which this claimantly seasoned viewer had readily seen. "Red State"..."Cop-Out"..."Zach & Miri Make a Porno"...yep, missed 'em all...mind you, not necessarily out of a horse blinder's limited view of 'desiring' only that of the irreverent slapstick exploits of two certain stoners, which...for most of us...we all have ardently embraced, as far back as our introduction to Kevin Smith's unconventionally likable characters, via 1994's "Clerks" (...good gawd!! has it actually been 20 years?? Sheesh...)...but rather, regrettably, by missed opportunity. Heck, in most areas, anything wrought by director Smith, which wasn't stamped 'Jersey' or 'Jay & Silent Bob', in any way, shape or form, seemed related to quietly sneak into theaters, unnoticed, and as quickly and quietly as they were snuck in...they were gone. However, for this viewer, in being much more keen and attentive to the horror and dark fantasy genres, and thusly, finding out that "Tusk" fell most ideally, though unconventionally into that category...uh, no you ain't, fella'!! (...pulling in the reins) Git' over here, will ya'...you ain't gettin' away that easily, now!!...
...and so, for this 'whoa'd curious viewer (...as in 'Whoa!! That trailer bent my mind!! I can't imagine what the movie's gonna do!!'), the result of maintaining a keener, genre-driven, macabre-filtered lens...well, with regards to "Tusk"...uh, you ever have a lump of oh-so tasty Cream of Wheat, which just sits in your throat, and for a time, you just can't get it down?? You swallow, and you swallow, and you try to wash it down, but it just sits there, demanding your attention...and you're torn by the irritant uncomfortability of the lump, and the occasional, though delightful reminiscing taste of the Cream of Wheat vestige, which gives a satisfyingly nostalgic rise when you burp. You hope to eventually get it down, real soon, before that delicious aftertaste begins to ferment, and get ugly...and of course, there's the accompanying sigh of relief, when you finally do get it down. In a nutshell, that's how "Tusk" seems to feel...
...but then, if one really wants to pare down the true essence of what the film seems to be trying to get across...this lovingly marred and scuffed Madball, amongst a sea of bright & shiny Whammo Superballs (...and really, who didn't like Madballs, huh??)...it's not so much the comical heckling of Canadians, and their stereotypical quirks, which Kevin Smith appears to giddily relish pointing out, in these macabre proceedings...it's not even the straight-out horror elements of the film, which ultimately prove to be more fatefully tragic, than anything (...though, if I, or any of us were forcibly altered, surgically...stuffed & sewn into a walrus suit, wrought from the skin of countless other victims...had sharpened femur bones shoved up into our upper bridge...and was relentlessly conditioned to behave like an aquatic beast of burden...well, I'd say that's pretty damn horrific, right; but then, to go any further, would mean to give away too much...and heck, no!! We can't have that...)...
...no siree, Bob!! In peeling the leaves of this onion, right down to the core, it seems that the underlining purpose of "Tusk" is not merely to explore something horrific, or to illicit the frequent chuckle at the clever dialogue, and the character actions & interactions with each other. If one looks much closer...past the horrors, and the humor, and the overall campiness of the affairs, herein...this is a multiple-faceted examination of change...of transition...of transformation...whether openly, albeit reluctantly forced and conditioned, as what tragically, as well as gruesomely happens to the hapless Wallace...whether it's a drastically character-changing acquisition of self-serving personal quests, like fame & fortune achieved, again by Wallace, in transitioning from a once-failed and struggling garage comic, to an arrogant, obnoxious, yet now-popular and well-sought-after podcaster, in the onset that he is introduced to us viewers...or how about the emotional and psychological assembly of 'Howard Howe', himself?? Amongst his life stories related herein, a tragic and torrid telling of his youth...compounded child abuse, which ultimately served to forge an inner disdain and hatred for the human species, coupled with his chance, fortuitous and fatefully tragic encounter with the walrus...his only semblance of cherished companionship...a 'companionship', which he unswervingly determined to have, once again...no matter what it takes...
...performance-wise, for the most part, we're talking able-bodied adequacy, timely poignancy and skewed wackiness, married with a distinctly decisive creepiness, which runs the spectrum of sticking profoundly in mind, to sticking unshakingly & annoyingly...like an unnoticed-until-the-most-inconvenient-and-embarrassing-moment piece of tissue paper, stuck on the bottom of one's shoe. As visually appealing as actress Genesis Rodriguez most assuredly is, herein, as Wallace's perturbed girlfriend, Ally...who openly expresses that she prefers the 'struggling' Wallace, which she was initially attracted to, as opposed to the 'now' Wallace, who in her eyes, seems to have 'sold out'...her presence, although offering some prerequisite tender and romantic moments, seems over-shadowed by the film's overall novelty. In a similar vein, the casting of Haley Joel Osment, as Wallace's friend and podcast 'conspirator' Teddy, seems equally...well, not negligible, per say, but distracting, in the sense that we, as the film embracing audience, remember Haley in his considerably younger days, and seeing him here, only seems to serve answer to the question of '...hey, whatever happened to...??'...
...but then, the crust of the film clearly, unmistakenly and invariably falls onto the shoulders of both Justin Long's and Michael Parks' performances. In his blind and self-serving intent upon getting what he needs, Justin's character is clearly seen in a selfish, self-centered and obnoxious light...which is particularly emphasized in the moment when he quickly shrugging off the tragedy of his first intent, in favor of the new opportunity...an opportunity which promises much, and yet an opportunity which assuredly proves to cut him down to size, from the standpoint of his personality, as well as his humility. And the moments, having donned the fleshy folds and toothsome visage of the walrus guise?? Well, at first glance, the sight might well illicit a momentary laugh in some (...as did the presiding audience, of which this viewer was a part of)...but a laugh, not just out of the campy look of the stitched, patchwork beast, but more stemming from the overall crazed situation, which Wallace has stumbled in, coupled with the irony of his spattered humility, and his altered sense of reality & humanity. In opposition, veteran actor Michael Parks appears to be having the most fun, herein, in his, grizzled, mad-as-a-hatter rendering of Howard Howe. Amidst the insane, macabre and gruesome moments, there is a subtle, and surprisingly reflective creepiness in listening to the Howe recount his vivid life stories; to a certain degree, one can't help but recall a taste of inspired flavor, taken from the late Robert Shaw's performance as Quint, and his grim & chilling storytelling, in the classic 1975 thriller, "Jaws"...or at least, it appeared that this was what Parks was going for, in that respect...
...ah, yes...surprises and expectations (...that is, considering the film's title, beyond that of the wholly expected inclusion of the pop rock band Fleetwood Mac's pounding tribal riff of the same name). Indeed, this viewer went into "Tusk", anticipating the appearance of actor Johnny Depp, who herein, has apparently been inducted into the Kevin Smith fold; and yet, some might well be blown away by the fact that, once the final credits have rolled, one can't help but wonder (...as I did, having gotten so caught up in the film), where the heck was Depp?? And it may well be after the fact that...sumbitch!! Damn!! That was a wholly unrecognizable Depp, in the bumbling, accented role of Guy Lapointe...a has-been, alcoholic, now-private investigator...having long sought the identity of a local serial killer...and whom Wallace's friends, Ally and Teddy, confer with, when they lose contact with Wallace. Also seemingly a fun role in the film, Depp's performance as Lapointe is stand-out, but in a silly and campy way...like Depp was attempting to channel his inner Clouseau...
...to cut things to the quick (...too late), there have been a minority caste of wholly depraved genre films in the past, which illicit a reaction, not that far removed from the visual representation of...well, you recall the perpetual facial expression of the classic, albeit irreverent Berkeley Breathed comic strip character, Bill the Cat, right?? Kevin Smith's "Tusk" surely belongs in that genre niche, which has that effect. Is that a good, thing, or a bad thing?? I suppose that it depends upon the film's unwitting voyeur, who...like this viewer...was resigned to digest the film, well after the credits roll. And as far as this viewer, having since given said time to digest said film...eh, I'd lean profoundly, albeit numbingly to the former, than the latter; the trouble is, it's now so difficult to 'right' myself, again, from such a skewed perspective. I mean...Good gawd, Kevin...what have you done???
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