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Love, Indie-Style
Sweetness follows Zach Braff through Garden State
by Clint Casey
Making an honest connection with movie audiences can be difficult. More often than not, ideas seem forced, partially developed or altogether weak. But films that speak loudly though subtleties—candidly making truths, characters and experiences universal—provide fresh perspective on tired narratives. Zach Braff breathes life into Garden State by doing just that: capturing life without faking the inconsequential.
Braff, 29, wrote, directed and stars in Garden State, confirming that his talents on NBC’s Scrubs are only a glimmer of his potential. His debut gave Sundance one of its annual stunnings, further cementing his status as a certifiable triple threat.
Estranged in Los Angeles, 26-year-old Andrew “Large” Largeman (Braff) exists in a pharmaceutical haze, waiting tables to supplement his inconsistent acting career. News of his mother’s passing sends Large home to New Jersey to pay his respects and salvage a deteriorating relationship with his father.
During the memorial service, Large finds childhood friend, Mark (Peter Sarsgaard), working at the cemetery. In essence, where he left him years before: a townie with neither the talent nor ambition to leave—or want to run away.
Large trails his gravedigging friend to a party hosted by a financially successful old friend, made wealthy by virtue of invention. Seemingly content with their stagnant lifestyles, the party brims with like-minded people, numb from repetitive drinking and drugging.
The following day, driven by blinding, momentary headaches, Large visits a doctor where he discovers Sam (Natalie Portman) in the waiting room. Sam challenges Large with sincere, disjointed observations, luring him to follow her out of the hospital and beyond.
Brooding and emotionally detached, Large speaks directly to common neuroses and jaded consciousness. Stuck in a cycle of disappointment and regret hindered by mood-enhancing meds, Large forges a connection with Sam and makes sense of himself through her child-like qualities. Although the two seem destined and their connection real, it’s difficult not to wonder at the fact that Large falls for the first person that pays him a shred of attention after he ditches his meds.
The critical buzz for Garden State is deserved; it’s superbly written, acted and directed. In a similar way that Catcher in the Rye addresses a younger generation, Garden State manages to push buttons of a generation that has survived adolescence but hasn’t quite figured out adulthood. In the purgatory between college and settling down, Large is a kind of Everyguy, struggling with love, mending a strained relationship with his father, and finding his place—a home—in an “abysmal” world.
During a singular moment with Sam, he muses, “You know that point in your life when you realize the house you grew up in isn’t really your home anymore? That idea of home is gone. Maybe that’s all family really is. A group of people who miss the same imaginary place.”
Garden State is Braff’s baby; his molding and care for the project pervades the film from pacing to indie rock soundtrack. His supporting characters are well developed and altogether fascinating, each having endearing quirks and personalities. Initially, Large is the least interesting, slowly colored and brought to life by Sam and Mark and his gradual adjustment to life without anti-depressants.
Portman’s Sam is a loopy representation of lovely self-consciousness. A chronic liar when uncomfortable, she’s unabashedly honest around Large, her defenses dropped, crippled with paranoia about what he might possibly be thinking. But overall she’s more concerned with being unique than considered unoriginal; she acts bizarre in very specific places and coaxes Large to do the same. “This is your one opportunity to do something that no one has ever done before and that no one will copy throughout human existence,” she says. “And if nothing else, you will be remembered as the one guy who ever did this. This one thing.”
Despite uncomfortable moments for the characters, and its audience, the off-kilter movie feels cozy, delivering warm moments of validation. The payoff is in the relationship and banter between Large and Sam. Rather than tempering the story with fluff, Braff holds up a mirror to real people and how they relate.
The only thing missing is a plot. And, at times, it feels like Braff couldn’t care less, opting for a timeless “all you need is love” story comprised of a string of endearing moments, clever quips and awkward exchanges. Even so, Garden State delivers something not so much to believe in as to relate to, and more than enough heart to fill the New Jersey turnpike.
August 26, 2004 • Vol. 14, No. 35
© 2004 Metro Pulse
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