Kevin Smith’s characters are all cut from the same, humble cloth. Just because you’re smart doesn’t mean you’ll make it big, and even though Smith’s characters may be brilliant people, more often than not they’re found behind the counters of convenience stores, coffee shops, and roving the hallways of strip malls. They talk without an FCC filter, flinging curse words with reckless abandon in the way that any guy in a bar might do, talking about the same stuff you’ve probably said yourself after a beer or two. They fall in love, they fight, they make friends, they break up, and they do it without Hollywood shine. They’re too broke to afford glamour. Not that they let that stop them. Broke doesn’t mean broken and with or without money Smith’s avatars have smart things to say and lives to live. They live those lives not in LA or New York, but in nowhere towns in New Jersey or in the frozen, bitterly cold suburbs of Pittsburgh. Even thrust into the weirdest of situations, Kevin Smith’s characters are still mostly just dudes. They hang out in bars, wander around comic book shops, and work in video stores. They’re pot smoking, porno making, lesbian courting dudes.