Garden State - Zach Braff

Before you sit down to watch Garden State, the operative word in your mind is Zach Braff or rather Dr. John 'J. D.' Dorian from the popular TV dramedy Scrubs. You almost expect to see his lovably bumbling, foot-deep-in-the-mouth, incurably romantic small screen avatar reiterate itself on the big screen. After all, it's a film written and directed by him and Scrubs is where he has first proven his acting and directing mettle. You start watching the movie with a knowing smile already poised on your face, but when you are done watching it you can expect a rare teardrop ready to roll down and join your smile. You have finally found the movie which defines today's generation. No wonder, despite an extremely modest promotion budget, the viewers showered their love on this modest gem of a movie. And so did critics. An alignment of planets, we must say.

The title alludes to the nickname of New Jersey, both the actor’s and his character Andrew Largeman’s home state, where he is coming back after almost nine years. The reason of the prodigal son's return is not joyous at all. His paraplegic mother has accidentally drowned herself in the bath tub. But surprisingly, it doesn’t cause him to feel much grief, because nothing ever does. Since his childhood, Andrew has been amped up with mood-enhancing, anger-suppressing drugs prescribed by his patronising psychiatrist father Gideon (Ian Holm). Gideon had taken upon himself the duty of making Andrew forgive himself for what he did to his mother. Gideon’s version of reality is angry little Andrew deliberately pushing his mother over the open door of a dishwasher and making her wheelchair-bound for the rest of her life. Andrew’s version of reality involves a pure accident involving a clueless little boy, a broken dishwasher door and physician who needed healing himself.

Largeman comes homebound from Los Angeles where he has been sleepwalking through his life as a struggling actor and a make-up wearing waiter in a Vietnamese restaurant. He leaves his cupboardful of medication at L.A. and arrives at New Jersey with a spigot from a gas pump stuck in his car, unmindfully ripped from its hose and a mindful of sedated nothingness. At his mother’s funeral, he recognizes the gravediggers as his childhood buddies and his life begins to budge again.

Then his life breaks into a brisk jog. In a doctor’s waiting room, while a German Shepherd earnestly humps his leg, he meets Sam (Natalie Portman), a quirky and charming compulsive liar. While Sam takes him to places inside his heart he has never been before, Mark (Peter Saarsgard), his high school chum, takes him to places in his hometown that makes him willing to live again. At the end of the journey, Andrew feels, there might be, just might be, another way of life than "Such was that happy garden-state, / While man there walked without a mate:"

Before picking the bones of the movie bare, let us admit it is nowhere near a perfect film. It ambles and meanders in places, and the cliché ending is heartbreakingly anticlimactic. But what makes it rise above the humdrum of the average is its truthfulness. Sensitive viewers, especially the ones from Andrew’s generation, can completely relate to it, even if they have grown up thousands of miles away from the Garden State. We’ve all had a ragtag bunch of friends who we think we know, but don’t really (Jesse, played by Armando Riesco, who has become a millionaire by inventing a silent version of Velcro and now lives the charmed life, Mark the gravedigger, who despite his opportunistic ways has a golden heart which he likes to keep to himself). We all ache for a person whose imperfections would fit into ours as neatly as a jigsaw puzzle and make us whole. And in order to protect our heart from pain, we all numb it and close it tightly shut against all possibilities of happiness. It sure shows that Mr. Braff drew from the well of his personal pains. And he drew well.

The performances are mostly commendable, with Zach Braff and Natalie Portman expectedly, taking the cake. Ian Holm as the dry, distant father is infuriating. Peter Saarsgard as the rough-outside-spongy-inside Mark is endearing. You wish you could see more of Jean Smart as Carol, Mark's mother or Method Man as Diego, a bellhop at a luxury hotel who hosts peeping sessions of various hotel rooms. But moments when Sam breaks down while listening to the story of Andrew’s mother and Andrew remains dry-eyed and incredulous, or when Sam lies about her lying in order to make Andrew happy, more than make up for it.

The performance, which almost eclipses that of the protagonist’s, is of an aural kind. The soundtrack handpicked by Zach Braff and awarded with a Grammy, features little known gems from The Shins, Frou Frou and of course Simon & Garfunkel and begs repeat listening. At this point of time a comparison with The Graduate - the coming of age movie that separates the boys of the genre from the men - is inevitable, but I would leave that comparative discourse to film scholars.

Lastly, the fact that Garden State defies being pigeonholed into a genre is another proof of its greatness. In Zach’s words, it’s about “love, for lack of a better term", and about “puberty of the mind,” which according to him, comes much, much later than it comes to the body. Here’s to losing yourself hopelessly, so that you can finally find yourself.

Watch a trailer for the movie here: