Garden State is the story of of the most boring thing in the history of Universe, a man so featureless that every melancholic scene in which the camera stares at his hollow eyes (of which there are far too many to count) has to be interrupted by peripheral characters engaging in quirky nonsense of some kind, or else the risk of losing the audience to sweet, delicious, sleep becomes too great to ignore.
Unfortunately, these interruptions don't have any real content of their own. I think a lot of them are meant to be jokes, but their timing makes them come off as if they are being delivered by the Galileo space probe, all the way from Europa.
When he's not trying to "tickle the funny bone," actor/director/narcissist/douche Zach Braff "tugs at the heartstrings," by feeding his anemic movie some of the most soporific indie rock ever, hoping that it will give the scenes that showcase the relationship between his Tin Man/Scarecrow/Lion composite and Dorothy-having-her-period something that vaguely resembles emotional weight. The results are nothing short of embarrassing.
In conclusion, Garden State is Buffalo 66 for people who think That 70s Show is heeeeeeeelarious.
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Thanks for droping in on my set.
MWAH!
Jazz