By the end of "Jersey Girl," it's hard not to feel a bit sore from being milked for an hour and a half. The film from director Kevin Smith tries so hard to milk every bit of sympathy and compassion from its audience that it's strained.
That's not to say that there's nothing good in the director's story of a a former publicist (Ben Affleck) who, after being widowed, is forced to move in with his father (George Carlin), work as a street sweeper and raise his wise-beyond-her-years daughter (Raquel Castro). In fact, the film is often surprisingly engaging and touching, though the end product is a bit strained and muddled.
Most convoluted is the film's failure to find a good balance between family fare - which it is trying hard to be - and adult humor. The family stuff is laid on thick, as Affleck's Ollie grapples with the transition from working man to full-time dad. He is helped by his hard-nosed softy of a father, a beer-guzzling crank prone to cuddling and helping his granddaughter. We watch as Ollie's 7-year-old daughter, Gertie, brings joy into the lives of all around her with her love of the grisly musical "Sweeney Todd," her family and New Jersey.
But, presumably as a nod to fans of Smith's in-your-face, crude humor of past films "Clerks" and "Jay and Silent Bob Strike Back," the writer/director interlaces a good deal of dirty jokes and profanity into the sappy fare. Sadly, masturbation humor, which sparks a forced romance with a video clerk (Liv Tyler), is out of place here.
With the exception of Tyler, who is awful, the performances are fairly decent. It's interesting to see a crotchety guy like Carlin in a soft role, but he adds a nice dimension to the film. Castro packs a great deal of sass and talent into Gertie, a surprisingly good performance for such a young performer.
And Affleck, batting zero after "Paycheck" and "Gigli," turns in a pretty good performance. His character is dealing with a lot - failure, death, responsibility, hope - and the actor does a nice job of showcasing all these elements subtly. It's too bad his character is not particularly likable, a whiner whose lack of common sense and attentiveness make him less of an underdog and more of a toolbox.
Smith's story lays everything on so thick that it borders on bludgeoning the audience over the head. One musical interlude featuring each character in the ensemble crying alone does the trick. Three? That's overkill. There is a way to draw compassion from an audience without making it so blatantly obvious, but this film never utilizes it. We understand that Ollie is sad because his life changed. We know he is seeking what's best for himself and his daughter. We know she means the world to him. But to make sure we know these things, Smith makes sure each point is repeated in five-minute cycles.
This is Smith's attempt to break away from penis and fart jokes and grow up. He still maintains some of the sharp dialogue that made his previous films so great, but the subject matter here is sugary enough to eat through a brick, and after the first few heartfelt moments, it gets old - fast.
Did Smith sell out here? No. Did he grow up? Not really. Will you remember this film? Probably not.
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