Hellchick

I've been a fan of the TV show Scrubs since it came out because it is such a tight show in every respect: the acting, the writing, the direction. So when I went to see Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind what feels like ages ago and saw a preview for Zach Braff's Garden State (Braff being the star of Scrubs), I knew I'd want to see it.

It took forever, it seems, to finally get around to being shown around here. I was surprised that here in Orange County, California, the only place it was being shown was the indy theater over by UC Irvine. When we showed up, there was a huge line extending around the building just for Garden State, and the theater ended up being packed.

Garden State is the story of Andrew Largeman, an only slightly successful actor in L.A. who comes home to New Jersey when his mother dies. "Large" has been psychologically medicated in some form or another since he was a child, and the movie is about his decision to use his mother's death as a spring board to break away from that and feel everything, both good and bad, and really experience life for possibly the first time.

The movie was beautifully directed, and while I already felt that Braff has exceptional comedic timing as an actor, I now know that translates into his directing, too. The trailers don't convey at all, really, how funny this movie actually is. But even while it's very funny, there is this overarching sadness to it that the movie slowly erodes as you watch. The only criticism I'd have here is that sometimes the audience was laughing at jokes that were right up against important dialogue, and so the timing sometimes was a little too tight, it seemed.

Like Lost in Translation, the movie felt very real to me, as if Braff really had gone home and just had a cameraman tag along, assuming Braff's 20-something life is like most other people's. There always seems to be a signature 20-something movie for every generation, and I think Garden State is the current one. You've got the 20-something struggling actor trying to survive on his own in L.A.; you've got the 20-something guy who's singular invention allowed him to buy a mansion with no furniture (and this could easily be an internet millionaire as well); you've got the 20-something high school friends who are still living with their parents and smoking pot all day. And then you've got that interesting and awkward transition, where you've moved out, but you meet someone who's still living at home, sort of in limbo between high school and finally becoming an adult.

All of this felt very real on screen. And the actors were terrific. Natalie Portman's talent really shined in this film -- I'd gotten so used to seeing her in Star Wars that I'd forgotten she can really, really act. She was so natural, and she managed to be such a cutie and so sweet without being overpowering at all. It was a balance that's hard to imagine other actresses pulling off successfully.

The best part of the movie is something I don't want to go into too heavily because it will spoil surprise moments in the plot. I think it's this part that really hit home with me. It can be summed up with one of Large's lines: "So, you still want to compare fucked up families?"

I've done this. I've had moments sitting around with my friends, just like Large does around the fire at the mansion, talking about life stories with people I've known for years, but to whom I've never told the really ugly parts to. Until that moment -- that one moment where suddenly you are a whole different person in their eyes, where all they can manage to say is, "God, I had no idea," because they're too embarassed or awed to say anything else. The look on Large's face and the slightly hyper tone in his voice when he says, "I know, it's amazing how much of my life has been determined by a quarter-inch piece of plastic," was a moment where I could identify with the entire film in only ten seconds of dialogue and a brief facial and vocal expression. Anyone who can identify with this knows that this is exactly how your voice sounds when you're telling your story, and they know that that embarrassed smile and the little laugh you give is all you can think to do to break the ice when people are looking at you with a weird mix of pity and embarrassment. It was amazing, for me. Watching this key moment on screen was like watching parts of my own life transposed onto other characters.

The only other criticism I have of the film is that it seemed to ramble in parts, but I get the feeling that was intentional. When you're back in your home town for a few days, that's how life is. You keep running into people you haven't seen in years, and they insist on taking you out, so you go out, and then you end up going somewhere else...it's pretty true to life. But even through the rambling, there's a very strong constant, and that's Large slowly, but evenly, coming out of his medicated psychological coma. Braff pulls off this transition very well.

It's odd, but three tiny scenes in the movie really stuck with me, and they all have to do with touching. In the first, Large is on the couch during a drugged-out spin the bottle game. When the anonymous girl sits on his lap to kiss him, the camera flashes briefly to his hand, which squeezes her thigh a bit, but very nervously. There was something very real about that and I liked that there was a focus on it. You can see how nervous Large is about the idea of even touching another person, nevermind kissing them (anonymously). The second was the hug that Large gives Sam's mother. He just sinks in, and for a brief second you see him almost ready to cry, as if he'd never been hugged before and is just now realizing how good it feels. The final scene is where he reaches out to put his hand on his father's chest. It's a very confident movement but his father flinches just a bit. It's as if each of these three moments is a progression that shows him coming out of his emotional shell. It's nitpicky, but I really liked that.

I recommend trying to catch the movie if it's playing somewhere near you. It might be hard to find, but it's well worth it.