Waiting . . .

Even a casual observer of the province of independent film for the last decade would have no trouble placing the inspiration for Rob McKittrick's Waiting . . . . If you're familiar with the work of Kevin Smith and the concept of a fern bar, a four word description of the plot ("Clerks set at Bennigan's") should place in your mind an instant – and likely accurate – idea of the film's content and tone. For the most part the plot and characterization are creatively bankrupt, but the dialogue, performances, and the picture's final payoff keep the experience from being a total dud.



As new guy Mitch (the suddenly towering John Francis Daley) begins his first day on the job at fern bar Shenanigan's, he is asked a very important question: "How do you feel about male frontal nudity?" This turns out to be an equally important question for the audience, and when I found myself wondering whether Luis Guzman used a penile prosthetic, at least I had the answer to an important question that comes with every film: does this movie show me something I haven't seen before? The answer is yes, but what you see may very well be something you will wish you hadn't.

The staff at Shenanigan's is crammed with slacker stereotypes. There is a conflicted but all-around good guy. We meet his girlfriend, who is not too good but wishes that Guy would figure out what he wants in life and pay some attention to her. There's the resident smartass, who is the coolest guy at Shenanigan's, though one of the best jokes comes at his expense when he is told that such a position is "like being the smartest kid with Down's Syndrome." A collection of oafs work the grill while Chi McBride dispenses wisdom from behind the dishwashing station. To round things out we are even treated to a teenaged version of Jay and Silent Bob, though weighted more towards drug humor and less towards profundity.

A large cast is always a potential liability, but in the case of Waiting the sheer multitude of faces supports the feeling of being in a crowded restaurant. There's always something going on or someone to cut to, which keeps the film from becoming too much like a forgotten burger beneath a heat lamp. It helps that so many of these actors are gifted and that they throw themselves into the material with such exuberance, particularly when their parts call for them to behave in unpleasant ways. Alanna Ubach is a perfect example; her character Naomi vacillates from a deranged termagant to a flawless hostess between kitchen and dining room, and Ubach makes it seem natural. As in so many of these stories featuring young layabouts in search of meaning there are a number of rookies in the mix. It is no surprise, then, that more seasoned hams like Guzman steal the show.

The movie obviously has lots to say about the existential side of waiting tables, but the more interesting scenes depict the behind-the-curtain culture of restaurant life. We observe the antagonistic relationship between the grill crew and the wait staff, learn what servers really think about their customers, and in one scene guaranteed to make you rethink ever eating out again, we see the oft-imagined act of restaurant retribution – the application of bodily substances to a meal – acted out in agonizing detail. It is this portion of the film that abruptly polarizes an audience: those who have never waited tables look away in revulsion, while those who have look on in amusement or even feel moved to contribute some scattered applause.

Beyond this look into the back stage of suburban mass-produced cuisine, however, Waiting offers very little in the way of new material. There are plenty of jokes to draw laughs, but these are usually on the level of rude armpit noises and sexual disparagement. From the way they talk and act, most of these people belong at Shenanigan's, and if they served onion blossoms and cheese sticks for the rest of their days I would have trouble feeling sorry for them. I have an equal affinity for the warmed-over coming-of-age plot and retread characters, no matter how well acted. You've seen this picture before, though this time it comes with added volume, raunchiness, and a side of honey dijon.

Just as I had written off Waiting as a younger sibling of Clerks who must act out even more excessively than the original in order to be noticed, the film's final scenes upends the Clerks conceit – almost. It's a thrilling moment of clarity as one character gains the voice of the audience and sums up the laundry list of neuroses that have come together to form the staff of Shenanigan's. Had the film ended there it might have completely won back my respect, but it lingers on as if unwilling to give up on its characters – despite having condemned them in its one scene of true wit.

For first-time writer/director McKittrick and the talented cast, I feel much the same way that we are encouraged to feel about the characters who work at Shenanigan's: they look like they're having fun and this work must pay the bills, but I really hope they move on to something worthier soon.