ASK ANYONE not from New Jersey what they know about the state, and you’re bound to hear of the Sopranos, the Turnpike (what exit?), and pollution. Listen to anyone from New Jersey and you will hear the same response: There’s more to it than that. Why, there are the over one million acres of natural wildlife known as the Pine Barrens. And there’s all the produce, from cranberries to tomatoes to corn, supplying much of the northeast–after all, it isn’t called the Garden State for nothing. You may get a few nods and probably some looks of skepticism. But what would truly bolster this case is a fresh cinematic perspective, one that doesn’t involve organized crime or bleak highway vistas.
Enter the film Garden State, where there isn’t a single shopping mall in sight. Not one scene takes place at a diner around 4:00 A.M. There are no bodies stuffed in trunks and no one looking like they came straight from a Sopranos casting call. Nobody ever says, “How you doin’?” Rather, Garden State follows struggling actor Andrew Largeman (a truly impressive performance by Zach Braff, also the film’s writer and director) who must return home to New Jersey for his mother’s funeral. Largeman lives in Los Angeles, and it is telling that the few memorable scenes we see here take place in a sterile bedroom, an obnoxious Vietnamese eatery where Largeman suffers insults as a waiter, and on the traffic-congested freeway. In stark contrast, when he arrives in New Jersey, we are immediately greeted by lush green landscapes (albeit in a Jewish cemetery), tranquil scenes in quaint suburban neighborhoods, and a collection of colorful characters with definite flaws, but almost all of them sympathetic (compared with the detestable and artificial clientele at the L.A. restaurant).
With Largeman back in his hometown after nine years away, it isn’t long before he runs into old acquaintances, some of whom have become heavy drug-users. One of them is Mark, the local grave digger. Another is now a millionaire after selling his patent for “silent Velcro.” Later, at a clinic to get his head examined, Largeman meets Sam (the always alluring Natalie Portman), a free-spirited, epileptic, compulsive liar. Largeman also finds it difficult to connect with his father, Gideon, a noted psychologist (Ian Holm in yet another wonderful turn), who seemingly blames his son for his mother’s death. It is Gideon who tries reaching out first, though he can barely conceal his contempt as when he says, “I’m glad you’re here. Saying goodbye is important. Glad you could . . . fit it in.”
Largeman himself has become wholly chemical dependent for his psychological well-being, as his medicine cabinet chock-full of Zoloft, lithium, and other drugs attests. This becomes potentially problematic when he forgets to pack his prescriptions for the trip to Jersey. It will be the first time his body is free of drugs since his father first prescribed them to him at age 10. (The reason for this is a dark one involving Largeman and the accident that left his mother a paraplegic.) But as the week progresses, despite Gideon’s insistence his son resume taking his medications, Largeman refuses, thus embarking on a journey of rediscovery–an awakening of emotions long deprived by the pills. (As he admits to Sam, he doesn’t shed a tear at his mother’s funeral because he’s forgotten how to cry.)
For his directorial debut, Zach Braff (also known as Dr. Dorian on Scrubs) has done quite remarkably. Garden State is a beautifully shot film with numerous indelible images, and the soundtrack is as memorable as that of The Graduate. In fact, a Simon and Garfunkel song, “The Only Living Boy in New York,” was actually used in a poignant scene involving Largeman, Sam, and Mark. (Peter Sarsgaard plays the junkie grave digger with just enough ambition to get him through the day. As he puts it, “I’m okay with being unimpressive. I sleep better.”)
In interviews, Braff has said he tired of conventional and predictable scripts. Hence, there are healthy doses of randomness throughout the film, including a kitchen scene with Mark’s mother and her boyfriend (a knight in shining armor from the Medieval Times restaurant), a hotel peepshow run by a bellhop, and a geologic phenomenon that helps bring a certain resolution for Largeman and leads to an explosive kiss between him and Sam in the pouring rain.
A native of South Orange, New Jersey, Zach Braff headed west to California to pursue his Hollywood dreams. And though he has become a success on television and now on screen, Braff clearly knows the darker side of Hollywood, judging by his visions in Garden State of loathsome L.A. wannabes. He has turned the dream on its head, making a return to the Garden State a source of salvation and spiritual renewal–Largeman is the prodigal son coming home. Braff has also added a valuable contribution to Jersey cinema, rendering an affecting portrait of this multifaceted state.
A New Jersey native, Victorino Matus is an assistant managing editor at The Weekly Standard.
