There are lots of reasons I watch certain movies. Some are probably more
legitimate than others. For better or worse, though, one major
motivation for me to see a film is prior knowledge that the soundtrack
includes Simon and Garfunkel.
When a movie slips in one of those songs unexpectedly, it elevates the
whole experience, so when I'm given a little advance warning, I take
advantage of it. I decide that this is not a movie to miss. And usually I
am rewarded for my efforts.
Garden State owes a great debt to The Graduate,
the most Simon and Garfunkel-heavy movie of them all. When I finally
saw that classic about post-college malaise and discontent with a
shallow upper middle-class lifestyle, I had years of hype to go on, and I
came away disappointed. But several viewings later, I have come to
appreciate much more what a remarkable movie it is. Such is the case
with Garden State, a thematically similar film about floundering
in one's mid-twenties. Having recently re-watched it, I've grown into a
deeper respect for the movie - and Zach Braff, who wrote, directed and
starred in it, all at the ripe old age of not-much-older-than-me.
He plays Andrew Largeman, a wannabe actor who wanders through life in a
daze of over-medication, thanks to the intervention of his father (Ian
Holm), who happens to be a doctor. Andrew's been away from home for ten
years, having been sent off to school and never returned, but he's back
for the funeral of his mother, whose paralysis years earlier was his
fault, or so he has grown up believing. Awkwardly detached from
everything that happens around him, he goes through the motions in
dealing with relatives at the reception; his pathetic interaction with
his aunt that results in the donning of a shirt that matches the
wallpaper in the upstairs bathroom is reminiscent of Ben's chat with the
"plastics" promoter in The Graduate. He's no more animated when
he gets together with his old high school chums; while they party
hearty, doped up on ecstasy, he sits on the couch and lets everything
happen around him.
Then something changes. He meets Sam
(Natalie Portman), a free-spirited girl who lives with her mother, an
African student and a massive menagerie of pets. Sam is a compulsive
liar, so Andrew's never sure of the veracity of any of her claims, and
she's as uninhibited as he is perpetually uncomfortable, so theirs is
not the most natural of pairings, but it's a fortuitous one, since she
is able to remind him that life can be beautiful, even - maybe
especially - in its least significant moments.
The lesson is
cemented when the two join Andrew's friend Mark (Peter Sarsgaard) for a
wild goose chase to some unknown destination with some mysterious
purpose. None too happy initially about spending his last day in town
ramming around on some strange errand, Andrew eventually finds
inspiration in the trek - and realizes the depth of Mark's friendship,
even as his days-old relationship with Sam blossoms.
The
acting is solid all around, with a radiant Portman and Hoffman-esque
Braff backed up by sardonic Sarsgaard, along with a trio of parents
displaying varying degrees of dysfunction. The inclusion of a cast
member from Lord of the Rings
is another automatic movie elevator for me, so despite the brevity of
Holm's role, I enjoy it. And Braff's taste in music is nothing to turn
up your nose at, especially the stirring The Only Living Boy in New York,
which comes at a rather surprising point in the movie, particularly
considering that there actually is a scene in which Andrew prepares to
catch a flight, leaving Sam all alone again in New Jersey. That would
have been the obvious place to stick such a song, but in its new
context, it takes on a different but no less thought-provoking
connotation.
Back when Garden State came out, a
co-worker of mine told me it was the best movie of the year. I don't
know if I'd go that far. But I doff my hat to Braff and company for a
job well done; he's welcome to swing by and give me a few pointers any
time...
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