Garden State (2004)

Natalie Portman’s Sam fibs, sobs, makes weird noises on purpose and holds a funeral for a hamster, all to wake up a numb guy, and Garden State never asks what she gets out of the deal. That’s the trouble with Zach Braff’s debut. Everyone exists to help Andrew feel something. Still, Braff has a great eye for awkward. Andrew stands in a bathroom wearing a shirt that exactly matches the wallpaper, and the movie gets more mileage from that one image than most comedies get from a whole script. Portman is so lively she nearly sells the fantasy. Peter Sarsgaard is a gift as Mark, the gravedigger buddy with a scheme for everything. Ian Holm says more with silence than the script says with speeches. The scream into a rainy quarry is peak 2004. It made $35.8 million worldwide on a reported $2.5M. A 6.1 because it’s sweet and funny and very in love with its own sadness. $1,132 says you hand someone your headphones this week and stare at them until they admit the song is good.

What works: Peter Sarsgaard and Ian Holm are excellent, Natalie Portman brings real spark, and the deadpan visual jokes are often very funny.

What doesn’t: Sam is written mostly as a cure for Andrew’s gloom, and the film leans hard on quirk and its soundtrack to do the emotional heavy lifting.

Who it’s for: People who once made a mix CD for a crush and still think about that one song.