Mr. Smith goes to Jersey

Dogma

***1/2

Don't look now, but he's done it again.

Two years after the release of Chasing Amy, writer-director Kevin Smith is once again stirring up controversy at the local theaters with Dogma, his infamous religious epic starring Matt Damon and Ben Affleck as two rogue angels who have been banished from Heaven by a vengeful God. As with any Smith production, Dogma features plenty of inspired lunacy, sharp dialogue and fine performances by Damon, Alan Rickman and Mallrats legend Jason Lee. But remarkably, the film also manages to wage a serious - and consistently fascinating - theological debate in the context of a screwball comedy, a feat that few directors could have pulled off with as much style and grace as Smith. Indeed, Dogma is a movie that walks a tight rope between the Big Statement and the Big Joke, yet it works from start to finish.

The film opens in a Wisconsin airport, where the two renegade angels, Loki (Matt Damon) and Bartleby (Ben Affleck), spend eternity observing their mortal counterparts and harassing members of the clergy. One day, Bartleby learns that a liberal bishop in central New Jersey (George Carlin) is trying to bring his church into the new millennium by redesigning the conventional image of Christ into something resembling a holy Chief Wahoo and financing the construction of a consecrated archway. Anyone passing through the arch will be granted a plenary indulgence that will absolve them of their sins and guarantee them a spot in Heaven. Bartleby reasons that he and Loki can outsmart God and win readmission into Her Kingdom by travelling to Jersey and gaining absolution for their respective crimes.

There is a slight problem with their plan, of course. Should Loki and Bartleby force their way into the promised land, they will have unwittingly disproved the infallibility of God, and life in all forms will then cease to exist. Thus, God (as depicted in a mercifully silent role by Alanis Morissette) sends several of Her henchmen down to Earth to stop the dynamic duo from reducing the universe to nothingness. Those henchmen include Chris Rock as Rufus, the 13th apostle (a role seemingly inspired by Eddie Murphy's fifth Beatle, Clarence); Rickman as Metatron, God's personal spokesman; and Jason Mewes and Smith as Jay and Silent Bob, who turn up in Dogma as a couple of dim-witted prophets.

Ultimately, the film settles into a Cannonball Run-style race to New Jersey, as Loki and Bartleby make their way across the country to confront their adversaries in a blood-soaked finale that packs more than a few surprises. Fortunately, the film never slows down along the way, managing to keep pace with its manic cast of characters as they battle angels, demons and large piles of feces en route to the Garden State.

Although Dogma is filled with scatalogical humor and overwrought physical comedy (courtesy of Rock, Smith and Mewes), the film doubles as a serious meditation upon the nature of God and organized religion. But Smith is obviously familiar enough with Biblical lore that he is able to make a number of intelligent points without sounding pretentious or silly. Considering the subject he has chosen to tackle and his notoriously unconventional approach to filmmaking, that is quite an accomplishment.

Dogma is clearly Smith's most ambitious project to date, as the director boldly attempts to put a modern spin on the archaic school of religious thought that is Catholicism. For his efforts, Smith has been eviscerated in the press by right-wing Christian organizations throughout the country. That's unfortunate, but it's also ironic, because Dogma is, at heart, a more powerful affirmation of Catholic values than any film since The Rapture. And though it is not as consistently funny as Smith's most uproarious comedy (Mallrats) and lacks the emotional depth of his best film (Chasing Amy), Dogma remains a thorough delight.