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"Garden State" is another of these "indie"-type pictures that supposedly skimp on production values for the sake of giving the audience some real true-to-life human drama. Oddly enough, the production is very good, so are the performances (by some fairly big-name actors as well). Where the picture is lacking is in Zach Braff's script, which seems mostly culled from situations taken from other movies.
When you're as young as Braff is, you haven't really lived enough to use the experience as film fodder. Braff's experience looks to be from watching movies, then repeating the same trite clichés in his own movie. In Garden State, he plays Andrew Largeman, a semi-successful Hollywood actor who returns to his hometown in New Jersey to bury his mother, who took her own life after suffering in a wheelchair for many years. He appears to have no feeling about any of this; he has no relationship with his father, who blames him for causing his mother's paralysis in a freak accident as a six-year-old, and has no particular despondency over losing his mother (in fact, he attends a party right after the burial to which he was invited by a friend of his, who works as a cemetery grave-digger). It all smacks heavily of "Beautiful Girls", also about a guy who returns to his hometown to "find himself" and hang with his old friends, with a little "Ordinary People" thrown in on the side.
It's really a miracle Braff could accomplish anything at all in his life, given his father and his useless friends (I'm surprised he didn't kill himself), who are still living their "lives" as though they're still in high school, partying with dumb bimbos, drinking and drugging, etc. None of them even recognize him from his TV role as the "retarded quarterback" (Natalie Portman's character, the most aware person in the movie, does), and say things, like "Hey, I remember you from Junior year". These guys are such losers, for them, watching television would be a cultural leap forward. Even one friend, who made millions inventing a silent Velcro, has no real reason to live, because his whole frame of reference is high school and partying. And you don't need big money to party like a high school sophomore.
Braff, it is revealed, is heavily medicated, which keeps from "feeling" and dealing with anything, really, like an adult would. Then he meets Sam (Natalie Portman) a sort-of lost girl, who gives pet funerals and lives with her mother like a 10-year-old in a bedroom that looks like a pink doll house blown up to life size. Anyway, they fall in love, and Braff learns to "feel" again. The clichés come fast and furious. Braff has a long delayed heart-to-heart talk with his cold, distancing father and tells him What It Is and The Name Of The Game. In one scene, Braff and Portman are in the millionaire kid's house, playing touchy-feely is front of a giant fireplace, and the bit is so routine, so standard movie-schtick, I swear, I half-expected somebody to walk up and throw a sled into the fire. In another, Braff visits a doctor (Ron Liebman) to get his junk refilled, and Liebman tells him (in easily the worst line in the movie) "The body can play tricks on you. I once found my ex-best-friend's cufflinks in my wife's purse, and I didn't have an erection for a year and a half." Obviously, no licensed physician would ever say that, but it's dirtbag poetry, a nod from Braff to, I guess, his loser friends to let them know he's still thinking of them, just as the "37" joke in "Clerks", was Kevin Smith's nod to his dirtbag buddies.
Anyway, Braff finds true happiness and gets off the dope; the story plays itself out predictably. But if you're going to have a movie that's wall-to-wall clichés, at least give it some charming performances to breathe some life into it. And Braff does. He has the right sort of vacancy, of casual acceptance to make his role as the zonked-out Andrew both real and poignant, and Natalie Portman (also of Beautiful Girls) gives the movie a big lift. With her tiny features and flickering expressions of mood, she just about steals the picture as his traveling companion. Jean Smart is surprisingly good as Portman's mother, and Peter Saarsgard (though much better in "Shattered Glass") is notable as the gravedigger friend. I would recommend "Garden State" if you can't get enough storybook romance out of movies, but when people start hailing it as a masterpiece, they're just clueless. Braff thinks you can take the same old tired plot, write in a few "f**ks" and "awesomes" and slap on an acoustic rock soundtrack and that contemporizes the material. It doesn't.


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