1986, New Jersey. Obsessive kid Brian David (Austin Zajur) asks Crash Melody (Siena Agudong) on a date at the movies. Can he and his buddies (Nicholas Cirillo, Reed Northrup) get through a day of multi-screen hopping without getting fired by Director Mike (Ken Jeong)?
In another world, the 4:30 movie might have been called “Movierats.” Kevin Smith has long told tales of New Jersey kids simply hanging out, whether it was at the local convenience store (Clerks), the local fast food restaurant (Clerks II), or the local mall (Mallrats). Here, he takes that template and applies it to local cinema – what better love letter to cinema than a film set almost entirely in a cinema? More specifically, the cinema of Smith’s youth, which he now owns and operates as Smodcastle Cinemas in Atlantic Highlands, New Jersey? Disappointingly, for all the promise up front, it rarely delivers in the way you’d hope.
In typical Smith fashion, this is very much a story from the heart, remixing personal experience into cinematic form – main character Brian David (a charming, charismatic Austin Zajur) is a clear foil to Kevin Smith, a deeply obsessive kid with a passion. To the movies, hoping to sneak into an R-rated movie with his lover, Melody Barnegat (Siena Agudong), if his loudmouth friends don’t block them first. It starts promisingly. Extended Opening Scene – A phone conversation between Brian David and Melody as they outline their plans to attend “4:30[pm] The film is together – tenderly handled, with endearing performances from the two young lovers, all drenched in 80s sax. This honesty continues into the cinematography – understated, but imbued with every small-town New Jersey scene with genuine affection.
The central part of the film is disappointing – and it becomes even more disappointing when the sweetness returns in the last 15 minutes.
It’s a shame, then, that the film comes to a screeching halt once Brian David and company. Access to movies. A purposeless narrative never feels as charming as it did in Mallrats; Multiplex etiquette notes are rarely as sharp as customers snapping at the clerks. Nicholas Cirillo overacts as hotheaded sidekick Burnie, while Reed Northrup’s underwritten belly is little more than a red rat-tail hairstyle in search of personality. As with 2022’s Clerks III, the comedy largely falls flat: while Smith has fun delivering fake trailers (one casts his daughter in a nun-sploitation film) and the fantasy blockbuster “Astro Blaster And The Beaver Men” (yes, there’s a lot from movies). Beaver Joke), and the results were poor. The comedic potential of our heroes sneaking in and out of movies, evading the director (one-note Ken Jeong), and feeling like they’ve never achieved anything is largely good. When Smith’s regular roster appears — Justin Long, Jason Lee, Brian O’Halloran, Rosario Dawson, Jeff Anderson, Jason Biggs, and, of course, Jason Mewes — their screen time feels like a distraction from the time they spend with the central trio.
As a result, the central part of the film is disappointing, and it becomes even more disappointing when the sweetness returns in the last 15 minutes. Smith’s ode to cinema turns into a self-portrait of the artist as a young man, before coming full circle into romantic comedy mode once again. Those moments are much more satisfying than the comedy that precedes them. Since this is a Kevin Smith-produced movie, there are still a few funny lines (“Burnie has sex during the movie. The man has no respect for cinema!”). But even with the main film’s slight 77 minutes, The 4:30 still feels sluggish. Roll the credits.
The endearing moments in Kevin Smith’s coming-of-age film special are heavy on underwritten comedy. It could have been better with being sweeter and less salty.
