Garden State - Why I Still Love It

“I THINK this movie doesn’t really go into any genre. Movies now are so often made to mimic other successful movies in the past that we’ve created these genres, like the romantic comedy, the thriller, the action movie, that are so formulaic that you can guess the ending after the first five minutes. So, it was so nice to see something like this that was much messier, like life, that doesn’t fit into any category, that doesn’t go with anything we’ve ever seen before. It just has these unique experiences and unique characters.”

So said Natalie Portman at a press conference I attended following an early screening of Zach Braff’s Garden State. And she was right. The film defies easy categorisation.

It’s a comedy, of sorts. But it’s also a thoughtful exploration of growing up, of guilt, of coming of age, of mental health and of overcoming life altering mistakes.

It’s inspiring but in a bittersweet kind of way. And it’s incredibly poignant.

Yet while it boasts some big ideas and grand themes around the meaning of life, what it boils down to is fairly simple, as Braff confirmed in a retrospective interview to celebrate the film’s 20th anniversary.

“The movie was originally called Large’s Ark, because in my mind, what Large finds in that boat is all that he’s looking for. It’s this couple: They have each other; they have this baby; and they have this little safe ark.

“That’s what he was on a quest to find: safety and the sense of home and someone who loves him for all that he is and all that he’s not and someone he can love for all that they are and all that they’re not.”

As well as having created the movie, Braff stars as moderately successful LA actor Andrew Largeman, who has been drifting through life, disengaged and on medication, until he returns to his New Jersey home for his mother’s funeral.

While there, he attempts to reconnect with his dad (Ian Holm) but ends up hanging out more with former college friends led by Peter Sarsgaard’s grave digger Mark, and - most impactfully - the free-spirited Sam (Portman).

Sam brings a kooky charm and innocence that Andrew finds captivating and, over the course of a few days, they begin a relationship that could be life altering for the both of them.

If this sounds like traditional romantic comedy-drama territory, then that’s because the film does tip toe into that territory. But it doesn’t solely reside there.

The reasons behind Andrew’s subdued existence have a darkness that you may not have been expecting (he was responsible for the accident that left his mother severely disabled), allowing the screenplay to wrestle with issues of guilt and grief.

But these are further offset by some of the more offbeat moments of humour - some of which deliver some genuinely laugh out loud moments: be it the sight gags of Andrew having driven away from a petrol station with the fuel nozzle still attached or trying on a new shirt that matches the design of his wallpaper.

There’s a recurring gag around invasive dogs that amuse, while Jim Parsons crops up in an early role for a humorous exchange between himself and Sarsgaard in a kitchen.

There’s a lot going on and plenty to enjoy, even if the film’s occasionally offbeat tone may have been a little too diverting for some.

As with all good movies, though, this creeps up on you and rewards your patience, especially come the emotional finale at an airport, where Andrew attempts to say goodbye to a tearful Sam, only to experience that lightbulb moment referred to earlier.

It’s beautifully played by Braff and Portman, complete with a terrific accompanying needle drop from Frou Frou. And it’s hugely uplifting, even if you may shed a tear.

It’s a measure of the film’s quality of writing, however, that Braff doesn’t allow schmaltz to take over. Rather, he offers up a profound question for audiences to ponder, just as Andrew does in asking: “So what do we do? What do we do?” The film then ends.

But it’s a question all of us have asked at least once over the course of our lives. And it lands with an honesty that acknowledges the difficulty we all have at times in navigating life.

Braff’s script is full of similarly profound observations, such as Sam telling Andrew (heading into that final scene): “I know it hurts. That's life. If nothing else, It's life. It's real, and sometimes it fuckin' hurts, but it's sort of all we have.”

Or Andrew pondering: “You know that point in your life when you realize the house you grew up in isn't really your home anymore? All of a sudden even though you have some place where you put your shit, that idea of home is gone….

“…. Maybe it's like this rite of passage, you know. You won't ever have this feeling again until you create a new idea of home for yourself, you know, for your kids, for the family you start, it's like a cycle or something. I don't know, but I miss the idea of it, you know. Maybe that's all family really is. A group of people that miss the same imaginary place.”

There’s insight. There’s confusion. And there’s a beauty to the scenes that mean they land differently at whatever point in your own life you might revisit them.

As a young man [and journalist, when I first saw it] such comments were easy to cling onto, almost by way of validation for the same kind of thoughts you may have secretly been expressing.

Yet with the passing of time, there’s a different takeaway… one befitting the experience that comes with age and yet one that still carries some questions.

In answer to the first one, for instance, life does still sometimes fucking hurt. But in growing up and creating your own family, there’s a wisdom to Andrew's potential ‘definition’ of family that resonates.

It perhaps goes without saying, therefore, that with such strong writing, the film draws some terrific performances from its rich ensemble cast.

Braff is always likeable, even when hinting at a naivety and a darkness that could invite selfishness, while Portman is a ray of light, shining oh so brightly whenever she is on-screen. The scenes between Braff and Portman ooze a natural chemistry that’s terrific to watch.

But the support is strong too, no matter how long the screen-time afforded to each star. Sarsgaard is particularly interesting, mixing an early kind of creepiness with a genuine sense of loyalty, while the likes of Holm and Jean Smart also make their mark: the former during a belated exchange with Braff that reveals the tragic back story behind Andrew’s mother’s disability.

And if that weren’t enough, the film boasts a really cool soundtrack, featuring the likes of Coldplay, The Shins, the aforementioned Frou Frou and Simon & Garfunkel. Indeed, such is the enduring popularity of both the film and its soundtrack that Braff was able to put on a 20th anniversary concert at the Greek Theatre in Los Angeles in March 2025, at which the likes of Frou Frou, The Shins, Iron & Wine and Thievery Corporation performed.

It would have been a terrific event to be at.

But then Garden State is a terrific film that somehow seems to get better (and offer more) with age.