I’m not crazy about the message that going off your meds – without consulting a doctor – will cure your depression and allow you to be yourself. In this case, it did seem to be the right thing for Braff’s character to do, because he probably shouldn’t have been medicated in the first place (certainly not to the extent he was), but it feeds the pernicious notion that antidepressants somehow fundamentally alter your personality and are therefore wrong. Quite the opposite – it’s the depression that alters your personality; the meds treat the illness and let you be yourself. It’s like diabetics taking insulin – it lets them live their lives – not like someone taking steroids to enhance performance.
Okay, enough of the soapbox. I liked the depiction of Andrew’s going back home; his old friends are languishing, still living at home, dreaming big dreams but not really doing anything about them (even his friend who struck it rich by inventing silent velcro). It’s a running joke that everyone wants to talk to him about their movie ideas. (Speaking of jokes, the movie has more dog-genitalia humor than I generally like to see. I mean, seriously, there are, like, five or six separate occasions when … you know, never mind.)
Braff’s acting and writing both do him proud, and Natalie Portman, as his love interest, is also very good, though she occasionally strays a bit too much into obnoxiously wacky. Peter Sarsgaard, as always, is terrific.
Anyway, I enjoyed the movie, although I can’t say it sticks
with me much. Good soundtrack,
though.
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