Seven Oaks Magazine.

Moviegoing can be a frustrating experience. Acknowledging that it is the height of snobbery to admit the following, understanding that it may betray the writer as a consumer of ‘high’ art, accepting that the following will anger many a reader, it is nevertheless put forward as truth: most of the movies you like are terrible.

It’s frustrating because there are few things more difficult than trying to refine another’s taste, to build another’s critical muscle, to delicately suggest that someone else’s standards are very, very low indeed. It’s frustrating watching fellow moviegoers succumb to blinking, noisy charms of good advertising and gentle braying of the crowd.

The point is this: the curious marriage of popular appeal and collective blindness has made many examples of questionable art momentarily legendary. Promotion, timing and narcissism mixed with solipsism, luck and contempt burbles away in an alchemical brew to produce a contribution to popular culture that isn’t significant or important, but somehow hugely popular.

Film is the prime example because, for better or worse, it is the primary, most important art form of our times. Through film we choose to educate ourselves, to inform ourselves, to entertain ourselves. It is the most profitable cultural industry in the history of humankind, the most difficult to produce and, consequently, is subjected to more hype and celebration than most anything in the world. But it’s this hype, this cult of personality and glamour, that clouds judgement, that heaps unfound praise as quickly as it takes it away.

Think about it. A film formulates a ‘buzz,’ opens to much fanfare because it is different or new to anything the mainstream – and it must be the mainstream, because success, in the financial, popular sense, is with the huddled masses – has ever seen, is discussed excitedly by drooling, bored moviegoers who have been deprived of anything worth watching, rakes in untold fortunes, makes it to the Blockbuster shelves, is given a sober second look, and is promptly forgotten as the good, but not that good. Like discovering one’s significant other is undesirable, the piece, stripped of hype and left to its own devices is resented and unceremoniously dumped.

If you think this is an overstatement, you need only to ask yourselves the following question: whither American Beauty? For that matter, where is Lost in Translation? Is Traffic still a topic of conversation? Ask the same question of The Hours, Titanic, Erin Brockovich, Life is Beautiful, Shine and The Full Monty. These are but a few examples taken from the last decade. Going back further in time reveals even more head-scratching examples. In their time, each of these films was labeled “innovative,” “transcendent,” even “classic.” All are forgotten, mere footnotes in our memories.

The latest installment in this genre of not-nearly-as-good-as-its-press films is the writer/director/lead actor Zach Braff’s Garden State, about a struggling, drug-stupefied actor coming home to New Jersey bury his mother, escape the lethargy that has defined most his life, and to find a home.

The film rumbled down the Hollywood promotion chute, making waves at the long-ago de-legitimized Sundance film festival, where it impressed hipster know-nothings into thinking a clarion call for their dull generation had finally arrived. It also came with advance praise because of Braff’s involvement with the sweet and charming sitcom Scrubs, a show that has created and cultivated a devoted fanbase. Garden State has been breathlessly praised for its supposed innovation, wit and charm, has introduced a new actor/auteur star into the Hollywood A-list, made millions and, most underwhelming and important, caused slackjawed kids to rethink their lives for a few minutes before heating up their Pizza Pops.

At best, Garden State is bad film made by a competent writer and director. Further scrutiny, however, reveals a mish mash of disjointed, annoying little vignettes that are supposed to be interesting because they are aggressively odd. No characters are developed. The dialogue is irritatingly self-conscious, rendering it banal and pointless. The main character, Andrew “Large” Largeman is subject to a parade of screwy scenarios, strange people, sadness, and pathos, which he takes in with an emotionless, blank look. Perhaps there would have been a story in his reactions, but he has no reactions. In fact, Large and the other characters don’t move one iota beyond their quirky trappings; they inhabit the film in a sort of emotional stasis. There is no story, no narrative because there is no change; the writing spends most of its time trying to convince us how peculiar – and, therefore, cool – the characters are. Unfortunately, strange affectations alone do not an interesting character make.

But because Garden State has characters that do not populate the regular, common fare, because of its advanced buzz, it finds itself in the comfortable megaplexes, audiences eat it up, rave, and create a phenomenon. The film shoots through the roof, minting its actors as new stars, and placing them on the tip of everybody’s tongue. Garden State becomes the new cutting-edge film because everyone just can’t stop talking about it. It is the must see film of the year; its quality is beside the point.

Opinions are, by definition, subjective. When making such statements, it is agreed that it is informed by background, beliefs, environment and taste. No two people see the same film the same way, no two take the same thing, at least from one viewing. But a ‘good’ film is not as elusive a creature as many would seem to think. A good film is one that enthralls years after its release, and endures long after its makers have passed on.

I have no doubt that Garden State will go on to do well in video sales and rentals. I have no doubt that it will find its way into the libraries of many duped film lovers. I also have no doubt that in a year or two, it will have more than its fair share of collected dust.

No matter. Because I hear a new film by former Seinfeld star Jason Alexander is going to do well at Sundance. It’s supposed to showcase his talent as a writer and director as well as an actor. I hear it’s the film to watch.