NOTA BENE:  My esteemed colleage Scott Von Doviak already reviewed this bad boy when it played at Fantastic Fest, and did a fine job of it.  But that was, like, totally a month and a half ago!  He might as well have been reviewing that French train movie.  So, in the name of second opinions, here we go!

With Zack and Miri Make a Porno, Kevin Smith seems to have set himself two goals:  convince people that the raunchy, Seth-Rogen-starring sex comedy isn't by Judd Apatow, and re-establish himself as a scrappy, lovable filmmaker instead of the egomaniacal jerk that half of America loves to hate.  The first part is easy -- despite Apatow's near-domination lately of the dudeflick, Smith got there first.  The real question is, can he establish that he's a talent to watch out for again after having squandered so much goodwill?

The answer is...yes and no.  He starts out with a pretty watertight premise:  Rogen and Elizabeth Banks play the kind of platonic roommates that hardly ever exist in real life but are everywhere in movies and TV.  They're struggling artist types -- though robbed of the insufferability of that archetype by engaging performances by both actors --  who strike upon the notion of filming a porno movie as a way to get rich quick.  (Any resemblance between this plot and the actual economic reality of the porn industry is purely coincidental.)  Along the way, this wacky duo discovers that their carnal cash cow may be just the thing to unleash some hidden feelings about each other.

There's a lot to like about Zack and Miri Make a Porno.  It's certainly a lot more likable than most of his recent efforts; he's assembled a cast that makes his dialogue sound snappy again instead of contrived.  He's hit upon an entertaining plot that lets him generate the usual shitstorm of controversy from the usual bluenoses without seeming too utterly calculating.  And while it's certainly not going to win any acclaim as a feminist film, it's certainly the first movie I can recall from him where the lead female character has something more than one dimension.  (Judd Apatow, take note.)  But in a lot of ways, it's still a Kevin Smith movie:  excessively bro-ish, gross when it should be clever and clever when it should be smart, and unable to resist dabbling in gay- and race-based humor while being utterly inept at doing so.  Smith has proven that he can be a better filmmaker; now let's see him be a good one.

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