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Just over two weeks ago, I interviewed Kevin Smith in the bathroom of my hair salon. Which isn’t to say that I locked Kevin and I in the can of a public place — not the way you’re thinking, anyway. I was having one of those days where every appointment I’d scheduled was being re-jigged and blending into one another. So, making the best of what I had to work with, I took my digital recorder and my phone and locked myself in the quietest room of the salon, just in time for a 2:30 interview with Kevin. To date, I think it’s the strangest place I’ve done an interview. But it was also one of the best interviews.

Obviously, a large part of this is Kevin’s willingness to talk. He’s not afraid to speak his mind or answer anything you have to throw at him, and anyone who has seen his speaking engagements — either live or taped — knows that he gives you a lot of material to work with. So while my abbreviated interview with about his Red State event at The Wiltern this weekend already ran on AOL, I wanted to print the entire discussion here, because he had some really incredible insights to share. So here goes part one.

Before we get started, I have to say… as a Canadian ex-pat who was born and raised in Edmonton…
Ohhhhhh…

Yeah. And grew up on the Oilers in their glory days-
What year?

What year?
What year were you born?

75.
Oh my god, so you were there.

I was there. I went to the games, my dad was a seasons ticket holder-
Get the fuck outta here, where were your tickets?

We were in the nosebleeds, but he was still a fanatic. (Note: I was completely incorrect — my Dad’s seasons tickets were in row 17 in the corner, but neither he nor I remember what section. I think the nosebleeds seats were from a game I went to with my uncle.)
I paid about $200 for a ticket from game one of the Stanley cup finals of 84. And it’s in Lucite. It’s kinda sweet, man. I’m a huge nut for that whole era. So you were there, man.

Totally. And it was magic.
I went to a non-dynasty game with the Oilers at the Northlands two years ago, and it was religious. I can’t imagine what it would be with the dynasty Oilers playing.

I think one of my most prized possessions from that period of time is my dad ran into Gretzky at one of the bars downtown, and got him to sign an autograph for me.
Whoa. Amazing. How often do you go back?

You know, I moved to Toronto in 98, but before that I was back and forth between Calgary and Edmonton, so I haven’t been back there since the late 80s, early 90s.
Nice.

When they traded Gretzky to L.A., I was pissed. That was the end of it for me.
Like so many others! Pocklington, you son of a bitch!

I love, though, that Gretzky was your inspiration for moving forward the way you have with Red State. How did that come about?
Isn’t it strange that some dude who did stuff, like, 25 years prior in a field completely outside my own had any effect whatsoever? But he did. He had an impact. The entire dynasty Oilers had an impact, but mostly Gretzky. After Zack and Miri, I kind of sat in my office for a while — after it came out and didn’t open very well. I sat in my office for a month, two months, smoking weed and watching videos. I had all these DVDs that I’d never opened before, and I just checked out — I turned off the internet, and I just had all this time on my hands. So I started watching Hockey: A People’s History, this CBC documentary series from about five years ago. And it was awesome. There was a section there about Gretzky in it, and — you know — I’m familiar with the concept of Wayne Gretzky being the world’s greatest hockey player and whatnot, but I didn’t really follow the Oilers or any other team but the Devils. And that guy — particularly if you’re a Devil’s fan — all you really think about Gretzky was, “Didn’t he call us a Mickey Mouse organization once back in 1982?”

So here I am watching Hockey: A People’s History, which is a beautiful miniseries. Even if you’re not into hockey, I encourage anyone to get it because it’s not just about hockey, it’s really about Canada. And it’s so beautifully done — almost like Ken Burns’ Baseball, but way more entertaining and watchable, and about a sport that’s far more graceful, powerful and important. It’s done so well. The Gretzky section turned me on to Gretzky, so I started getting other Gretzky-oriented DVDs like Legends of Hockey, then I started reading and getting everything I could get my hands on about him. His father was on a biography profile of Wayne Gretzky, and he tells this really beautiful story: “You know, when he was a boy, he’d sit in his kitchen and he’d organize all his equipment before he’d go to his games, and every once in a while he’d pipe up and say something. And one time he said, ‘Dad, there’s a boy on our team that hasn’t scored a goal all year. So tonight I’m going to help him score a goal.’ And he helped that boy score three goals that night.” And I heard that story, and I was like, it’s so touching. That’s so unbelievably touching. The American version of that story goes thusly: “Dad, there’s a boy who hasn’t scored a goal on our team all year, so me and the other guys are going to beat the shit out of him in the locker room till he does the right thing.”

And this is the beauty of the world’s greatest hockey player — the guy could do something nobody else could do. Like having a greater assist record than having a goal record, which speaks volumes about his character. And he was this dude who just kind of pushed. And one thing that his father communicated to him that I thought was incredibly useful advice to anyone, not just someone playing hockey, was, “Don’t go where the puck is, go where it’s gonna be.” And that became kind of my mantra. I was like, “Oh my god, I was the guy who was gonna go where the puck was gonna be, and then I became a puck chaser for a long time.” Particularly on stuff like Zack and Miri where I was like, “I’m gonna try and do a Judd Apatow flick.”

Well, you’re never really forced to go outside of your comfort zone until something pushes you there.
Yeah. I think if you’re an artist, you go through all sorts of stages. And one of them is accepting that you’re an artist, which took me a long time to do. I never wanted to take that title, because it sounds so artsy fartsy in college. But it’s true. I’m an artist, and I don’t know what else to call it. I mean, really, I prefer entertainer. But I’ll tell you the thing that I’m not is a filmmaker. It’s not my first language – it’s like, fourth, fifth down the trough. Speaking, obviously, that’s what I kind of excel at. Writing, probably. Directing, that directing thing is way down. I think I’m better at foosball than I am at directing if I had to list them all.

So at the beginning I was all piss and vinegar and pushing at the edge with that envelope, left and right. Clerks, Chasing Amy, Dogma, and by the time I was finishing Jay and Silent Bob Strikes Back, I was like, “Well, I’m done with all those movies I had living in my chest when I still lived at my parent’s house.” And that was like the wellspring of everything. It was me at my most fertile, going, “Man, I want to make movies,” and that’s where the dream factory began. And once I ran out of the stories that were in me, I started manufacturing. And that’s Jersey Girl, Zack and Miri, and even Clerks 2, but that’s kind of an extension of Clerks. Cop Out was one I didn’t write. Suddenly it was like treading water just to stay in the business even though I just ran out of things to say.

So now I find myself with something to say, but now I also realize it comes in waves and bursts. Right now I’m having a real powerful burst in terms of filmmaking, where I’m no longer complacent — where I want to do hardcore, envelope-pushing work the way I did in the beginning so that as I end, I honor anyone who has supported this dopey career of mine over the last 20 years. Because I know it’s tough to be a fan of Kevin Smith sometimes. Sometimes it’s very easy, and sometimes you have to stand in the face of people saying, “He’s not a filmmaker. He sucks.” And it’s like, you want to give all those people who’ve had to listen to that or put up with that something so that at the end of the day you can be like, “Hey Man, say what you will, but Red State? That’s a filmmaker’s film. And Hit Somebody? Oh, that’s a filmmaker’s film. Clerks wasn’t a fluke!” I just want to go out strong so that people didn’t feel like they wasted their time being in your corner or being a fan of your stuff, so to speak.

If you think about me and my career as a slot machine of sorts, people have been feeding it for a while. So far it’s paid out a little bit, but never the big jackpot. And I feel like right now we’re in the jackpot era, where you’ve been pulling that Kevin Smith one-armed bandit for years, and suddenly it’s ready to spit nickels at you big time and make you a millionaire. So that’s where I’m feeling creatively right now, and that’s where you want to be as an artist. And you want an artist someplace like, “I want to do something dangerous.” At age 40, you’re not supposed to not do what I’m doing right now. But I want to be a kid again — I’m playing at being a kid. I tell ya, suddenly I decide to release my own movie, and I took 20 years off my life, professionally speaking. All of a sudden there’s a whole audience of people that identify with you that shouldn’t, ‘cause you’re double their age. 20 year olds, man, were just like, “Oh Christ, he has a choice and he’s choosing our way. He’s one of us.” Suddenly you’re young again. Suddenly it’s punk rock cinema. What’s better than that?

I’ve had the money for years, I’ve had the glory, I’ve had the not glory, I’ve been kicked in the balls, I’ve had it all. But I tell ya, the best of it is when you feel like you’d do it for nothing, which is what I’m doing now. I didn’t get paid to do Red State. I took an 80% pay cut to do Cop Out. And the way I feel right now, I’ll do Hit Somebody the same way. I’ll generate an income another way. And that brings me back to Clerks, because that wasn’t made with an income in mind. Neither was Chasing Amy. So when I’m back at a place where I’m like, “Right on, man. I’ll do it just ‘cause I wanna do it,” that’s where you’ll get the quality work. It feels nice to be there. Who knows what instigates it? I credit weed a lot, you know?

Yes, I’ve heard you say that repeatedly.
Yeah, I started smoking weed at age 38. A lot of people are like, “What? Those movies!” And I’m like, “Yeah, those movies were a lot of guess work.” Age 38 is where I started. And it’s not so much that it makes you creative, it just drops all the inhibitors.

And you wind up opening up?
Yeah. Basically, anything that would stop your creativity, or that crap where you go, “Well, I would like to try this,” but then you say, “Oh, it’s going to be stupid.” Or, “What if it fails?” Or, “What if someone says I’m stupid for doing it?” You can smoke that kind of crap away ‘cause that’s not real anyway — that’s fear-induced stuff. And essentially, a couple hits off a joint and it’s like, “Oh, the negative just flies away. So why not do this?” You go from being a “why” person to a “why not” person. And when you’re a “why not” person, you’re willing to take a lot of little dopey risks, or some big risks, because it’s worth it. The payoff could be worth it because I’ve done it the other way so many times, so it’s like, let’s try it this way. So I credit the weed, man.

(Part two will discuss his experience at Sundance, and his reaction to the blowback from it.)