Monday, August 23, 2004

Garden State (2004)

[ARCHIVE: I think I was a bit too close to the film to write this review. I come off as a mewling fanboy. But I really did think the movie was this good.]

Andrew Largeman has a problem. It's not his acting career, which has had its ups and more-recent downs. It's not his mother's death, bringing him back in his native New Jersey for the first time in nine years. It's not even the micro-migraines, tiny storm-clouds in his head, that he suffers from. Large's problem is his inability to feel happy, sad or... anything at all. But then, being on mood medication for fifteen years can do that to you.

In his directorial debut, Zach Braff (Scrubs' John Dorian), takes us on a ride through the landscape that is/was Large's life. Like a guided tour, we interact with his childhood (his father), his adolescence (his old friend Mark) and his present (love interest Samantha). The quirky nature of New Jersey is amplified by Large's reconnection with his emotional state, resulting in a sometimes unbelievable, often bizarre but always honest film about coming to terms with life. Most people will write this off as art house fodder, and they're right. Braff reaches for subjects not often covered by films and does so without the crutch of scientific absurdities (cough Eternal Sunshine cough). Instead, the lunacy of reality takes center stage. Without explosions.

Cinematically, Garden State is a very strong first try, if not without its kinks. There are beautifully framed shots that take your breath away. Something as innocuous as children holding hands while crossing a street pop out as if works of art. Once or twice the camera is rough, a jerky pan here, an uninspired crosscut there, but quite often it is spot on. The shot lingers long enough on Sam (Portman) and Large's quietly uncomfortable stare to make the audience really crave an answer to what, exactly what is it that silences them so? The forthcoming payoff is that much more hilarious.

Best known for a comedic role, Braff delivers a superb performance, conveying his lines with a subtle nuance that brings meaning to even the most neutral looking of expressions. I's a shame that he never really stands out since he's surrounded by such a talented supporting cast. Ian Holm gives a great bit performance as the father, wringing razor sharp bitterness from only a handful of lines. Natalie Portman, as compulsive liar Samantha, is a joy on screen, exhibiting a wide range that is overlooked by other egocentric directors (cough Lucas). She acts like she's happy and you believe it. She tells you she can laugh at herself and you know it's true. But the scene-stealer is Peter Sasgaard, who brings to life Large's chum Mark. Easily an unlikable character, Mark could have been the typical amoral jerk, robbing graves and abusing store-return policy. But Sasgaard plays the role with such confidence and identity that you entirely accept him, faults and all. He might be shady, but he's not a bad person.

If there is a weakness, it is the film's reliance on seemingly disjointed scenes. As was pointed out to me, one can easily feel like one is being subjected to a collection of tenuously related scenes. Only in subsequent viewings can one begin to draw out a cohesive whole to the film. But even if this is true, the initial sense of mellow contentedness of a single viewing is worth it.

Garden State is another one of those quiet small-budget films that might have been overlooked if not for the pedigree of its talent. Yet there are no compromises made; it is what it is. Few movies have straddled the line between art-film direction and high-quality production like Garden State does. Hopefully, it will be remember with the likes of Almost Famous rather than forgotten like Singles.

4.5 (out of 5)
This movie is Rated R

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Sunday, August 8, 2004

Bardness

[ARCHIVE: Iambic pentameter is truly the height of pretentiousness.]

Now hear: I am an honest man as one
who ever held for his profession in
a public office. And a patient man
as ever that which saw himself the charge
of teaching youths with scholarly profession.
Noble, yes, as much as he who thought
to entertain within his heart the thought
of finding for himself companionship.
And handsome... here as handsome 'cept for all
the gifts that God bestowed upon myself
as well as those which give my peers their sight.

'Tis not within my mind to waste my time
at folly and at sport for that which won't
nor shan't (excepting can't) be won because
of measures that by Grace of God are mine
to call my own. As bound by this, my own
mortality and flesh, I live as one
would sure expect of one who is as I;
my mind, my stock, my disposition; glad
to have the time which fate as granted me.

Let no man judge my deeds, excepting he
that fell upon ill fate as I to break
commandment yet did find within himself
integrity enough to strike his own black heart
to dumbness, living all the rest his days
a shadow life, forever silent whence his crew
in jest or earnest t'will ask his thoughts upon
the very thing he once did fill his nights
and days and every hour, both waking,
sleeping and between. Alone may he
be fit to criticize my enterprises,
base as they may be, but still as faint
and subtle, enigmatic as the ether.

The time has come to draw the sword from out
my chest, as cleaved into that depth behested
so with mine own thoughts, and wretch'd inside
by mine own hand, protested all the while
by my better self. To 'xtract so deep
a cut as this, that I have worn so long
and proud, beheld alone within my mind
is trauma, plain and true. A poet such
as I doth know that art comes all the quicker
from a gash you nurse without intent
of healing, but with mind to keep it broached
so as to feed upon one's own distress,
A sick and parasitic bond from which
a man can gleam a mockery of poise.

What good, this self-devouring? What end is reached,
by this self-masturbation? Even this,
my "secret mind," demands an audience.
No, better now to cut the quick and stymie
future pains, despite prospective loss
of art, of voice, of prose which speaks to kin.

What worth the gains of other's praise
If she, the muse, is lost all days?

[It deviates a little, true, but so do most IP examples.]

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