So here’s how it transpired. Having watched the entertaining, if brain-dead[1], 3:10 to Yuma, I wanted to lose myself in another Western. So I chose the Assassination of Jesse James by the Coward Robert Ford. It is a grand spectacle of a movie, but gets so BORING towards the middle that my pro-Western phase died out as quickly as it had set in. Not since 2001: A Space Odyssey has an extravagant movie bored me so.
I decided to try another movie: Dom Hemingway. 10 minutes in, Jude Law’s titular character has waxed poetic about his manhood, beaten a mechanic, who had pseudo-cuckolded him, to a pulp and gone on a cussing rampage that would make even Scarface shy away. But it’s done in such a pretentious and insincere fashion that I was put off more by how hard the film was trying to get on my nerves than what was happening on screen.
And thus, I chanced upon Garden State, which more than made up for these traumas. It’s garnered a cult-reputation among indie-film lovers and Zach Braff fans, and with good reason. So the story goes like this: Braff’s character returns home after 2 decades to lay his mother to rest, and in the process, rediscovers old friends, makes new ones, and confronts his father – who had blamed him for his mother’s paralytic state before her death. Ostensibly, it was his fault – he had pushed his mother into a dishwasher as a consequence of which she banged her head on the kitchen counter. But he was 11 years old at the time, and unloved. His father, deciding that it was not in his best interests to remain in that house or that town anymore, packed him off to boarding school and prescribed a host of drugs for him that, for 20 years, disallowed any emotions to be felt – so much so that the guy couldn’t shed a single tear for all that time. So the opening of the movie is Braff sitting comfortably numb in the midst of utter chaos in a turbulent airplane, while Vakratunda Mahakaya plays in the background (I couldn’t figure out what that meant! Is Braff simply starting the movie like any prim Hindi movie– by a prostration before Lord Ganesha?)
If you’ve watched any American indie movie, you know how the rest pans out. The lead takes solace in the little things, and awkward new relationships until somewhere towards the end, when the two are collated in a watershed moment that changes the hero’s life forever. But what makes this one so special is the writing – the conversations between Braff and his love-interest, Natalie Portman are exquisitely scripted, with the one by the fireplace and the very last one being my favourites. Braff himself brings a dreamy relatability to the title role (the movie is supposed to be biographical) and is a suitably neutral but likable protagonist to have. Films need more unremarkable heroes – like Adrien Brody in the Pianist, or, more recently, Ellar Coltrane in Boyhood.
The latter is a sweet and utterly nostalgic movie by that indie master – Richard Linklater, and I suggest everyone to watch it. Given the scope of the movie – made with the same characters over a 12 year period – the movie, quite surprisingly, has no delusions of grandeur and proceeds to tell a confident and universal coming-of-age story. That is no mean feat.
And neither is making something like Garden State work. A dialogue out of place or a character too cloying would make for a holier-than-thou story. But this one gets all the ingredients in the right order. I do believe that every director has one great movie to make. You generally give it all in your debut, so one-hit wonders aren’t all that hard to find. I’m not saying that Braff is one; I’m just genuinely amazed that people like Spielberg and Boyle etc. can keep coming up with such fresh and creative matter time and again. But then again, these directors aren’t exactly auteurs– the shared visions of a number of collaborators contribute to their work, which is perhaps why there is scope for greatness on every return. The situation might be different for directors like Braff who make movies like Garden State – and going by the reviews of Wish I Was Here, the critics certainly think so. But I’ll reserve judgment on this topic until I’ve seen that movie.
In conclusion, Garden State has entered my list of all-time favourite movies. It has depth, an assuredly beating heart and unusual warmth and honesty, aided by a splendidly assembled soundtrack. And if you’re willing to look past Portman’s manic-pixie-dream-girl character, then you might even have a masterpiece on your hands.
Post-Script: After his rapist turn in Boys Don’t Cry, it was quite an experience to see Peter Sarsgaard in a sensitive and quirky role here as Braff’s buddy. He owned the role in the latter film too, bringing a degree of humanity to a monster of a man
[1] What was the climactic shoot-out about? What exactly was Russel Crowe’s character doing playing turncoat every 2 minutes?
Movies that Move 