Dogma – Mumbles

Bartleby’s Fall

Affleck’s turn as Bartleby is one of the most underrated performances in Kevin Smith’s whole universe. The slow burn from weary angel to full-blown zealot is brutal to watch but impossible to look away from. His monologues about faith, purpose, and punishment hit harder than you’d expect in a movie where Jay threatens to “smite” people with his shoe. You can see how centuries of divine bureaucracy could drive anyone insane, even an angel.

The Golgothan

The shit demon. What else needs to be said? It’s gross, it’s hilarious, and it’s peak Kevin Smith, highbrow theology one minute, toilet humour the next. It shouldn’t work, but somehow it does. Only Smith could manage to have a literal pile of excrement serve as a metaphor for spiritual corruption and still make it funny.

Jay & Silent Bob’s Divine Intervention

Jay and Silent Bob remain the View Askewniverse’s chaotic moral compass. They have no idea what’s going on, they don’t understand a single theological concept, but somehow they stumble into heroism anyway. Bob’s silent precision and Jay’s relentless idiocy balance out all the angelic drama. It’s still their movie, they just accidentally saved the world this time.

Cameos & The Smith Touch

One of my favourite things about Kevin Smith is how he sneaks his friends into everything. Seeing Brian Johnson and Walter Flanagan pop up, even for a moment, always gives me a grin. It’s that sense of community, that “we’re all part of this weird universe” feeling, that makes his films feel personal. Dogma might be about gods and angels, but it’s still made by the same crew who started out shooting Clerks in a convenience store after hours.

Belief vs Faith

I’m not religious and never will be, but Dogma’s message about belief versus faith still lands hard. Belief is rigid, it boxes people in, makes them fight over who’s right. Faith, though, is fluid. It grows, changes, and belongs to the person who holds it. That’s something I get. You don’t need to believe in God to understand that sometimes the idea of faith, in people, in meaning, in something, can matter. For a film built on dick jokes and theology, that’s pretty powerful.

God as Alanis Morissette

One of the things I’ve always loved, and still love, is that God is Alanis Morissette. It’s such a beautifully chaotic Kevin Smith choice. Instead of going for some booming, beard-stroking, standard Hollywood “God archetype,” he casts someone with this disarming, playful presence. She doesn’t say a word, but she doesn’t need to, the facial expressions alone tell you everything.

There’s something perfect about it. God arrives, looking nothing like the fire-and-brimstone image people argue about, and she’s serene, whimsical, borderline mischievous. It fits the whole message of the film: loosen your grip, challenge your assumptions, stop pretending you’ve got everything figured out.

And honestly, having Alanis giggle off the apocalypse is one of the most unexpectedly joyful things I’ve ever seen in a film. It’s weird, it’s bold, and it’s exactly why Dogma sticks with me.

The Finale

The ending ties it all up beautifully, messy, loud, emotional, and somehow sincere. God literally showing up and resetting the board could’ve been lazy, but in Smith’s hands, it works. It’s not about divine intervention saving everyone; it’s about people (and angels) confronting what they’ve become.