Garden State vs The Station Agent

Technically, Garden State is an independent film. Not independent, mind you, like Safe or Buffalo 66, but rather, independent in that way that some movies are, where they seem like maybe they're some cool show on HBO that you keep forgetting to watch. Here, “independent” doesn't necessarily mean risk-taking or rebelling against the Hollywood blockbuster machine. Here, “independent” means the screenwriter got to pick the soundtrack, and Natalie Portman had to do her own hair. And you know what? I'm fine with that. I've seen Catwoman. I've seen Alien Versus Predator. At this point in the summer, I'm fine with Independent film in any form it wants to take.

Garden State stars Zach Braff as Andrew Largeman, a struggling actor in Los Angeles. We know he's struggling because he's a waiter in a Vietnamese restaurant, and it's the kind of place where customers question his knowledge of the menu because he's obviously not Vietnamese. Andrew wakes up from a plane-crash nightmare to his father leaving a message that his mother has died. Andrew is in a constant fog of medication; he has one of those movie medicine cabinets, where it's completely full of prescription drugs, with no floss or even a little pair of scissors. But, for some reason, he leaves his medicine behind.

At home in New Jersey, Andrew finds himself pushed back into his high school years, with a group of friends who still haven't left that time behind. Mark (Peter Sarsgaard), one of the gravediggers at his mother's funeral, invites Andrew to a party, which seems ready to play like one of those fantasy house parties, but instead is just a haze of strangers and sadness. Andrew winds up on a couch, staring into space, while everything zooms around him, with girls making out and pills being popped and bottles spinning.

Andrew has a doctor's appointment the next day. He wants to stop taking his medicine, but he's having headaches. The grocery list of pills he's been taking is alarming, and also accounts for why he can't make it to work on time. More importantly, in the waiting room, he meets Sam (Natalie Portman), a young free spirit who wants to be friends instantly, but doesn't want to reveal why she's at the doctor's office. Uh oh, could Sam have an overstocked medicine cabinet of her own?

And so, Andrew and Sam become friends, riding around on his motorcycle and sidecar (she refuses the sidecar, claiming it's for bitches), hanging at her mom's, and generally being cute and funny. See, Andrew doesn't need all those drugs; he just needs to get drunk and watch Natalie Portman tap-dance by a fireplace. Join the club.

Soon, Mark has joined their group, and Garden State takes on what I feel is its true depth. The scenes of Mark at home, with his mother (Jean Smart), are clever and sad, but also point to the fact that some lives are pathetic and lonely, and need more help than just watching Natalie Portman swim in her underwear, although that couldn't hurt.

I enjoyed all the performances in Garden State, which is crucial in this sort of independent film. Zach Braff does a sadder, calmer variation on his Scrubs character, and Natalie Portman is looser, funnier and sexier than I expected. Remember thirteen-year-old Natalie, all world-wise and flirty and saving Beautiful Girls? Well I guess she's not completely jaded by green screen yet. What a relief. My favorite performance in Garden State, however, belongs to Peter Sarsgaard. It seems like my favorite performance in every movie lately is by Peter Sarsgaard; one of these days I might even be able to spell his name without looking it up.

Garden State, I should note, was directed and written by its star Zach Braff. And for the most part, he handles it well. The plot and mood reminded me of The Graduate, and to a lesser degree The Pallbearer, but there were visual cues and moments set to music that were kind of Wes Anderson-lite. Despite being nicely staged and filmed, however, some of it could be a little more subtle. For example, at his mother's funeral, Andrew stands outside the group, looking in from the side. And he's often staring off into the middle distance, as if distracted, or like maybe he thinks his voice-over narration is going to kick in. At one point, a huge group of friends jumps into a pool, leaving Andrew standing on the edge, afraid to jump. He drives a motorcycle with a sidecar that's always empty. He often sits alone on big furniture. We get it.

Likewise, the ending, which contains not only a heart-to-heart with a distant father, but an airport and a phone booth and an escalator, is straight out of Raising Helen, and I didn't even see that. It's romantic comedy clichéd, and that's too bad, because for a couple hours there, they really had me going.

Before that ending though? You can tell Braff loves film and loves these characters. Sure, some of the visuals are just there for the hell of it. It's like Braff always wanted to film a moment where someone was wearing a shirt that blended into the wallpaper, or to stand over a canyon in the rain screaming. And you know what? It's his movie, so good for him. Sometimes a moment is just a moment, and needn't propel a movie forward. It's actually kind of refreshing to see, especially from someone used to commercial breaks and having Leno as a neighbor. Nice work, Zach. Oh, and the soundtrack is great, and tell Natalie her hair looks really cute like that.

By the way, there is absolutely no reason whatsoever for Garden State to be rated R.

Like Garden State, The Station Agent is a sweet independent film about lonely characters. Also like Garden State, while watching it you might think, “Hey, not bad. How did I miss this? Is it on after Entourage?”

Peter Dinklage plays Fin, a man who loves trains. Fin's only friend dies, leaving him an old small-town train depot. Because…well because it makes for a good story, Fin moves in. Soon, Fin becomes somewhat of a local novelty, not just because he lives in the train station, but because he's…smaller. Movies like this usually have overly colorful locals, everybody getting one quirk and playing it to an extreme. The Station Agent has mainly normal people, with the quirks revealing themselves naturally.

His closest neighbor is Joe (Bobby Canavale), who runs a coffee stand in what is either the worst or best place ever for a coffee stand. Joe is incredibly curious about Fin, and basically demands they become best friends. Fin isn't interested, but it doesn't matter. Joe has decided to become part of his life. Before long, Olivia has joined their little group as well (after almost killing Fin with her car. Twice). Olivia is played by Patricia Clarkson, who makes everything good. If she makes a movie with Peter Sarsgaard, count me in.

I just looked it up. They're in The Dying Gaul, coming soon. See you there.

And so, Fin, Joe and Olivia start hanging out. They talk and walk and eat, and are so effortlessly friends and humans that I believed every second. There's a moment on a hike where they stop and share some beef jerky, and it damn near broke my heart just because, damn it, they're such good people. Everyone in The Station Agent has suffered, or continues to suffer, some great loss, and all they have is this new friendship, and nothing is as exciting or fragile as a new friendship. The Station Agent is never heavier than it needs to be (the performances spell out everything for us that the script wisely leaves unsaid), but is also deceptively slight. Talking and walking and eating are never just that, of course. Fin, especially, is angry and frustrated, and having trouble teaching his new world the difference between “Leave me alone,” and “I want to be alone.”

Peter Dinklage is a great actor. I'm afraid he might not often be cast in roles that match his talents, which makes The Station Agent all the more valuable. He's smart and funny, and does the most subtle double-take this side of David Hyde Pearce. Bobby Canavale is good too, in a role that has to be annoying, but not too annoying. He's funny, but never wacky, which is a relief. And Patricia Clarkson is amazing, as always. Olivia is mourning the recent death of her son, and it colors everything she does, though never comes across as begging for sympathy.

The Station Agent was written and directed by Thomas McCarthy, and is visually straightforward, much like its characters. McCarthy has an ear for the way people really talk, and for the way some people need to be noticed, even when they think they should be hiding.

By the way, there is absolutely no reason whatsoever for The Station Agent to be rated R.

Garden State: B
The Station Agent: A-