Elizabethtown
2005, 1 hr 55 min., Rated PG-13 for language and some sexual references. Dir: Cameron Crowe. Cast: Orlando Bloom (Drew Baylor), Kirsten Dunst (Claire Colburn), Susan Sarandon (Hollie Baylor), Judy Greer (Heather Baylor), Tim Devitt (Mitch Baylor), Paul Schneider (Jessie Baylor), Loudon Wainwright (Uncle Dale), Bruce McGill (Bill Banyon), Alec Baldwin (Phil DeVoss), Jessica Biel (Ellen Kishmore).

Garden State
2004, 1 hr 45 min., Rated R for language, drug use and a scene of sexuality. Dir: Zach Braff. Cast: Zach Braff (Andrew Largeman), Natalie Portman (Sam), Peter Sarsgaard (Mark), Ian Holm (Gideon Largeman).

My egocentric generation loves self-analysis. Yes, even me. I have zero self-esteem, yet I'm incredibly self-absorbed. You figure it out.

Remember Phoebe�s boyfriend on �Friends� who insults the group in Central Perk that we�re all about �oh, oh, please define me! Waaaa!� The real reason? We have too much time on our hands and we really don�t care to grow up anytime soon.

Remember my motto: �Just because you age doesn�t mean you have to grow up. Maturity is overrated, and what�s up with Tom Cruise and Katie Holmes? Is she, like, brainwashed and he�s an alien stealing her soul? Did he win her in a game of poker? I need to know these things, although I refuse to get a subscription to Us Weekly since I can read it in the grocery store checkout aisle.�

I should really cut that motto to a manageable size.

	"Seriously, 'Pardon me, do you have any Grey Poupon' is the lamest pickup line ever."

The average age for first marriages is being pushed closer and closer to 30 and college grads in my generation have already gone through several jobs, whereas our parents and grandparents had long settled into stable careers and pumped out ten children by now.

Apparently we don�t feel the need to grow up, but have time to spend hours a day on Playstation or, in my case, see a lot of movies and write about them here between visits to ESPN.com and SiberianBrides.com. (I mean, have you seen Yulia? Now, where�s Ust-Kamenogorsk?)

Enter the psychoanalysis fad in the zeitgeist (I really like that word, don't you; makes me seem smart) called the �Quarterlife Crisis.� What is it? A means to explore why young men and women are having trouble adjusting to the real world. By which I mean, �moving out of their parents� home, eating meals other than take-out, getting a job that doesn't use the phrase "for a quarter more you can get the large," and dating women who aren�t named Candy or Cherry.�

Of course, the term taken literally, this means I expect to live to see 120 years old. I�m okay with this.

I originally scoffed at the idea of this �Crisis.� What a bunch of baloney, people looking for a medical solution to a problem that�s caused by immaturity. I come from more of a common sense philosophy, like Bruce Willis in Die Hard, �If you�re not part of the solution, you�re part of the problem. Now quit being part of the #@#%@# problem!�

That is, until good ol� gal pal Sydney reminded me that I fit the mold. I�m a day from 30 and yet still feeling things out in terms of religious beliefs, wondering why I don't have a wife and kids by now and I have more baseball and hockey jerseys in my closet than dress shirts. Darn that Syd and her 31-year-old wisdom.

In Elizabethtown and Garden State, such terminology is what Alfred Hitchcock termed the "MacGuffin," the driving force of a movie, what everyone is looking for to push the plot along. In these films, that usually means something existential like "finding yourself" gobbledygook. In other words, the characters are just looking for satisfaction, some happiness, inner peace. They just get about it with more drama and dialogue that�s pure poetry, whereas I post blog entries about loving sheep and point totals for Arby's roast beef sandwiches. Advantage: Hollywood.

As a result, I get the feeling that either I�m a lot happier than others in my generation or the media just portrays us all as jaded to the world.

Everyone has issues to resolve, our baggage, if you will, but if you withdraw and try to figure it out alone you fall into a deeper funk. I like to call this �Monday.� Or, honestly, I go to the driving range, get a jumbo bucket and enjoy the day by whacking several balls, then walk around Target and Publix looking stalking creepily for a date. And failing miserably. Then return the next day for more. The lesson: Not only do I accept my limitations, I embrace them!

Where the films and I split: Any of these shows in which the main character leaves home bitter. Know what burns me? It sounds like an insult when folks� eyes boggle, �Wow, so you really get along with your family?� Does anyone besides movie stars or musicians who need good copy for song lyrics really feel more in tune with life if they constantly bicker with their family? Quoting Dr. Phil, because he�s fantastic, "How's that working out for you?�

	Jersey fashions are often inspired by Rooms to Go Outlet.

For Orlando Bloom (Elizabethtown) and Zach Braff (Garden State), the answer is �not very well at all. It sucks, actually.� Then Dr. Phil would say, �You�re stuck on stupid.� Hee, I love that line. These being feel-good films, our protagonists figure it out sooner than later, coming around to the affirming nuclear family dynamic that works so well for most of the rest of the country.

You could say Elizabethtown and Garden State are movie twins, though fraternal in delivery. You can also see how I would gravitate to each in my current turning-30-and-freaking-out state. Let�s go to the tape, er, film �

Two movies released a year apart, both involving men around my age who are still looking for their best in business, relationships or family bonding. (Okay, so I�m fairly successful in business and I love my family dearly, but one of those fits me humiliatingly.)

Both have to return home when a parent dies and confront their emotions. Neither can cry at the funeral. Considering how both films made me, uh, wipe this weird clear fluid from my face, and I don�t mean Sprite, can I just tell both my parents that they can never, ever, die? My grandparents, too, while we�re at it. I would be destroyed. Don�t worry about me being unable to cry at the funeral; I�m thinking it would be a six-hanky falling-on-the-casket tearjerker. So long as the funeral doesn�t coincide with the Red Sox game. We have to compartmentalize here.

Elizabethtown is more whimsical than Garden State, largely because bubbly blonde chatterbox stewardess, Kirsten Dunst, is the darling of the movie. Bloom is just playing along because everyone wants to be a part of Kirsten�s Club. Legolas and Mary Jane�s is the kind of relationship where neither acknowledges they�re falling for each other, though obvious to everyone in the audience.

We needed Dunst, too, because in the first five seconds Bloom�s face exhibited his complete repertoire of acting: Cute and confused, cute and perplexed and cute and exasperated. That�s it, that�s the list. Everyone around him provides all the personality. Not that this isn�t difficult, since the story involves Bloom revisiting his roots at a typical Southern get-together with lots of food (you can�t pass this world without the family enjoying casseroles), everyone talking over each other and putting their noses in your business. It�s a long way from California, or Oregon, or wherever on the West Coast Bloom lives. Damn hippies.

The same thing happens in Garden State with Braff and bubbly Natalie Portman, whom we�re sure will be his girlfriend but they have to act like it�s not obvious, while all the crazy people around him supply the character of the film. Braff feels detached, but largely you wonder if it's self-imposed. At least Bloom is having most uncharming suicidal thoughts because he cost his Nike-esque shoe company nearly one-billion dollars.

The major difference is that Elizabethtown director Cameron Crowe has all the cred he needs in Hollywood (Jerry Maguire, Almost Famous), so he gets a chance at more stars and a bigger budget, and it shows. Oh, sure, there are the artistic touches, but when you�ve got Susan Sarandon to deliver a soliloquy at the end and get her moment to shine, it�s a move up.

Garden State gets an independent film�s touch. As Braff's first release, you can detect the film school-ish "this is a cool shot" for "finding yourself" scenes, unnecessary nudity and while the sense of humor has some relation to �Scrubs,� the wacky antics are in another direction entirely, not melodramatic but with �serious� overtones.

	The funeral went well until Susan Sarandon blamed President Bush for all heart attacks, bad gas and toe fungus.

What lessons do we learn here?