Garden State

Around fifteen minutes into my first and only viewing of Scrubs, Zach Braff’s buffoonery became more than I could bear, and I concluded that without first opting for the television-friendly benefits of a full frontal lobotomy, I could never hope to be part of the target demographic. It delights me to report then, that Garden State, an indie-fied comedy written, directed and starring Mr. Braff, is a far, far better movie than I dared to hope.
Andrew Largeman (Braff) is an LA waiter-turned-actor-turned-waiter-again whose career highlight saw him playing a ‘retarded quarterback’ (open touchdown – aren’t they all?) with such aplomb, one of his friends is moved to remark “Man, if there was some sort of retarded Oscar…” When news of his mother’s death reaches him, Andrew kicks lithium, and emerging from this densest of mood-stabilising fogs, he makes his way home to New Jersey for the first time in nine years, conveying only slightly less concern than Meursault in similar circumstances.
There, between a series of awkward and occasionally coke-fuelled encounters with forgotten friends (including a guy now rich from a silent velcro patent and a gravedigger played by the lovely Peter Sarsgaard), he gets pounced on by Natalie Portman’s Sam, an uncommonly beguiling screw-up, who fills every available silence with charming chatter and pathological lies.
Though the chemistry of their courtship echoes Eternal Sunshine Of The Spotless Mind, Mr. Braff’s romance is far more sweet and idealistic, tempered only by outbreaks of mordant humour (“We’ll go up there right after we bury your mom” or “Wanna go bury the hamster before the dogs eat him?”) and indie quirks (Desert Storm trading cards and Nick Drake).
As our near-zombie hero warms and eventually melts for the girl, Garden State mimics a detective story, providing a suspenseful drip-feed of morbidly fascinating details from Andrew’s family life and his current late twenty-something malaise. Ultimately though, this is a gorgeous redemption song, dark-witted, but not dark-hearted, and made all the more luminous by Natalie Portman at her most, well, Natalie Portmanish.