Andrew "Large" Largeman (Zach Braff) moved 3,000 miles across the country to sunny Los Angeles to pursue his dreams of stardom. And to escape his domineering psychiatrist father, Gideon (Ian Holm).

Nine years later after deserting the family nest, Large is a moderately successful TV actor who has attained minor celebrity status playing a "retarded quarterback".

He shuffles through life in a lithium-induced daze, popping pills to keep the harsh realities of the world at bay.

So when his mother commits suicide and Large is compelled to venture back home for the funeral, the grief and rage barely registers.

Compelled to stop taking his medication ("I'm not gonna take those drugs anymore because they just left me feeling numb"), Large experiences the curious ebb and flow of hometown life.

He stumbles through awkward meetings with old school friends, like Mark (Peter Sarsgaard), who is now a gravedigger but still living with his pothead mother (Jean Smart).

Large also happens to meet bubbly compulsive liar Sam (Natalie Portman), whose effervescence and exuberance captivate the actor and gradually draw him out of his shell.

Her fearlessness in the face of almost inevitable heartache and pain gives Large the courage to embrace life again and to open his wounded heart to love.

Garden State marks the directorial and screenwriting debut of actor Braff, best known as Dr John 'JD' Dorian on the hit medical sitcom Scrubs.

This is an exquisite first effort; a smart, funny and bittersweet love story in which events unfold at a deceptively gentle pace. The script is beautifully structured and Braff really gets under the skins of his characters, exposing their pain and desires. He subtly shifts in tone from comedy to tragedy, often in the same scene, like the first time Sam takes Large home to meet her parents.

"Sam, I thought I told you to take the metal wheel out of the hamster cage," chides her mother shortly after the young couple walk through the front door.

"Oh! I forgot," replies Sam, shame-faced.

"Well, you forgot, and now Jelly's dead," responds her mother sombrely, holding up the lifeless body of the dearly departed pet.

The subsequent funeral, to honour "the one hamster in the world who didn't understand hamster wheels" strikes the perfect balance between laughter and tears.

Performances are flawless throughout but it's Portman who shines brightest. She confesses: "Sometimes I'll hear myself say something and think to myself, 'Wow, that wasn't even remotely true!.'."

Truly delightful.

Updated: 09:54 Friday, December 10, 2004