Garden State (2004)

Some lessons in life are tougher to learn than others. Some you're not even aware you are being taught. Garden State is about a man, medicated into oblivion since age ten, going off his meds for the first time in fifteen years while returning home to deal with death of his mother. The film speaks to a lot of things, about moving on from old friends, about alienation with one's parents and about how, ultimately, you can't go home. For a debut, writer-director and star Zach Braff damn near knocks it out of the park, telling his story with heart and humor and an always surprising sense of quirk. It still smacks of amateur filmmaking at points: the pacing can be erratic and Braff's hand seems unsteady handling the older actors. Also the very end reeks of a last-minute rewrite. But on the whole it's an exceptionally competent and, I expect, personal film. It may not be everyone's cup of tea but it's probably safe to say many will find it a fitting and appropriate way to cathartic melancholy.

8 out of 10.