Broken Flowers

Barely dramatic, thematic but enigmatic, that's Jim Jarmusch's Broken Flowers. His Stranger than Paradise was exactly that, a Cleveland road trip to existential uncertainty. In Broken Flowers, Bill Murray as Don Johnston is also on a trip, but more certain of his goal than anyone in Stranger, for he seeks out his alleged son by visiting former lovers, one of whom anonymously wrote that she had borne him a child 19 years ago.

The formidable women, including a randy Sharon Stone happily lampooning her film persona and Tilda Swinton, tougher and more dangerous than all the others in her biker mom role, never really sway him from seeking his son or finding himself. Beyond discovering that you can't change the past of "an over-the-hill Don Juan," much less understand him, reflected in the depressing but authentic lack of communication with all but one of his wives, Murray may have discovered on his low-key picaresque a truer self than he had ever known before. He may be beaten up physically, he may be unable to close the case of his putative son, and he may have divorced himself from his millionaire persona as a computer whiz, but he remains a deeply calm, lonely wanderer in his effort to solve his case.

An amateur detective, neighbor Winston has the spirit and energy Don does not have, yet Don is deeper and more reflective. In fact he outstrips all of his former loves in kindness and caring in calm response to often explosive situations, for instance when Stone's daughter, Lolita, comes on to him only to find he is not available.

I complain American films are not sophisticated like Euro flicks, but Jarmusch has come close with this slow, laconic, and demanding indie. Hats off to Bill Murray for mixing minimalist with passionate this time around—his purpose and his change of character make his aging Hollywood star Bob from Lost in Translation just a dress rehearsal for this Oscar-worthy performance and film.

Perhaps Don's discovery is twofold: his potential to love others and himself. As Alexander Smith declared, "Love is but the discovery of ourselves in others, and the delight in the recognition."

Whether it was (shrewdly) planned or not, Bill Murray has become one of our greatest cinematic resources, just as comfortable doing dry comedy as he is acting in a mood piece; his whole melancholy being has become perfect for avant-garde comedy, and this meticulously-mounted and shaded dramedy is a true Bill Murray vehicle. The loosely-structured plot is open to interpretation; it deals with calling up the past--which the film says you can't really do because it's gone--and not worrying about the future because it isn't here yet. Murray plays a computer businessman, a committed bachelor and "over-the-hill Don Juan", who receives news he might have fathered a child with an ex-girlfriend 20 years ago. Originally titled "Dead Flowers" (more effective and appropriate), the film is an unintended journey of self-discovery from writer-director Jim Jarmusch, purposely incomplete but not pointless. Jarmusch's screenplay leaves the scenario open for discussion, with each sequence structured in such a cockeyed way that we don't really know where the movie is headed. This is perfect for audiences interested in something a little different (even when the pacing is dryly solemn or slow, the picture delights in being anti-formula). A good film; difficult as an entertainment per se and often puzzling or obtuse, it nevertheless continues Bill Murray on the rewarding path of an actor with incredible taste, decision and consequence. **1/2 from ****

I never saw this movie when it came to the theater. Later on, when it arrived on video, the clerks at the local store rolled their eyes and told stories of renters returning it and complaining that it wasn't funny and was boring. So I didn't rent it, being the mindless lemming that would listen to a video store clerk.

Then I stumbled across it on one of the TV movie channels and sat down and watched it. Perhaps it was the lack of any expectations on my part, but I found this movie fascinating. Bill Murray has cornered the market on middle aged male guilt and regret. Between this film, Lost in Translation and the Life Aquatic he presents us with a very real sense of what it means to be in your mid fifties and contemplating all that has been missed while pursuing something else.

The movie moves slowly, at a measured pace, but it has to, because that is how the story unfolds, with the protagonist moving down the road of his past reluctantly, and with trepidation and rightly so, because he has left skeletons behind. Many of them, it would appear.

Bill Murray was always my favorite SNL guy and he never disappoints, always taking whatever role he is given and doing it well, and doing it as only Bill Murray can. David Spade and Chevy Chase, eat your hearts out. Actually, just retire. But I digress.

The supporting cast deserves kudos as well. For once, I liked Sharon Stone in a movie. Francis Conroy does her Six Feet Under persona but manages to spin it a little differently, and Jessice Lange is mesmerizing as always. And Jeffrey Wright, as Winston is a perfect foil for the perpetually deadpan Murray.

But in fairness, I suspect that you have to be middle aged and male to really love this movie and all of its wisdom.

I can't think of an actor better suited to play the expressionless chronic bachelor Don at the heart of Jim Jarmusch's newest movie than Bill Murray. His mournful hound-dog face, which hides any trace of what's going on inside the head on which it sits, stares blankly at the T.V., at other people, sometimes at nothing, betrays itself with the slightest movement of the mouth or twitch of the eyes. It's a characterization Murray has so down pat that I'm tempted to think he's not really acting all that much, but he's so perfectly cast that it doesn't much matter whether he's acting or not.

If you're not familiar with the movies of Jim Jarmusch, "Broken Flowers" is a nice introduction, as it's the most accessible Jarmusch film I've seen. I'm not a huge fan, but I liked this movie quite a lot. Don receives an anonymous letter one day from a past girlfriend, telling him he has a 19-year-old son who may come looking for him. Murray's friend, Winston (played amusingly by the chameleon Jeffrey Wright), convinces him to track down a handful of women who could have possibly been the mother and resolve the mystery. Don agrees to it, seemingly not so much because he has a need to know but because he has nothing better to do. What follows is a series of scenes with each past girlfriend, during which their interactions with Don tell us heaps about their relationship back when they were dating. Some are affectionate, some are distant, one is downright scarily angry, but all are played beautifully by a quartet of actresses: Sharon Stone, Frances Conroy, Jessica Lange and Tilda Swinton.

This is Jarmusch, so there aren't necessarily any tidy answers, and I don't think I give anything away by saying that the mystery is never solved. Life is messy, and it doesn't always happily resolve itself just because we want it to. I liked how subtle the film was; Don doesn't make any huge ground-breaking discoveries about himself, but nevertheless you sense that he's a slightly different person after his journey than he was before it.

You'll have to be patient, as Jarmusch tells his story very slowly, and nearly all of Don's interaction with others is ponderously awkward. But the movie slowly begins to fascinate, and you find yourself watching the faces of the women he visits (and examining the visible details of their lives) much in the same way that Don is himself, looking for the slightest hint that she might be the one who sent that fateful letter.

A very fine film, poignant and sad in a rather obscure way, and one that stays in your mind for a while after seeing it.

Grade: A-

There are movies which are lots of action interrupted by occasional pauses. Those are the movies people tend to enjoy. Unfortunately Broken Flowers is a movie of pauses interrupted by occasional action. Director Jim Jarmusch lays out his story in excruciatingly slow fashion. It's a road trip story, Bill Murray playing Don Johnston, an aging man criss-crossing the country for reasons we'll get to in a bit. Don has a few important stops on his journey. Sadly Jarmusch wastes way too much time on the travel between those stops. The movie is a seemingly endless succession of shots of the countryside flying by outside Don's car window. There are only so many hills and houses you can see go by before you are screaming "Get on with it already!" at the screen. There is just way too much time in this movie where absolutely nothing is happening. What makes it worse is that it's the same nothing over and over again, all those scenic shots backed by the same repeated musical cues which frustratingly burrow deep inside your brain. When we met Don Johnston it was obvious he was a man who had pretty much checked out on life. He didn't care about anything. The way his story is presented here won't make you care either.

Don is a retired guy, living a quiet life which consists of pretty much nothing but sitting on his couch. He is pushed into action when he receives a mysterious letter from a woman saying he fathered a child with her about twenty years ago and that her son, his son, is now looking for him. The letter is not signed, no indication who it could be from. And apparently Don was quite the ladies' man back in the day because there are five possibilities as to who the mother could be. So now Don must leap off his couch and go find out who the mother is right? Well, no, not at all actually. Don doesn't care about the letter, has no interest in this hypothetical son with the mystery mother. But with some insistent prodding from an exceedingly enthusiastic, and annoying, neighbor, Don sets out on a journey to track down all these old flames and discover the truth. So Don gets on a plane, flies somewhere, gets into his rental car and the movie at this point grinds to a screeching halt.

Don meets up with four women, the fifth having died a few years earlier. These meetings have their entertaining moments. They also have plenty of awkward moments. At some stops Don is greeted warmly, at others not so much. The four women he meets have very different lives, each with life circumstances which are unusual in their own way. One with a teenage daughter who lives up to her name of Lolita, one who's a cat whisperer, one desperately sad, one curiously angry. Of the group Sharon Stone and Jessica Lange get the meatier, and quirkier, parts to play and do well with them. Murray is pretty much just left to react to whatever he is confronted with at each stop. He certainly portrays Don's world-weariness, and road-weariness, well. But the movie really leaves the audience feeling weary. There's just never enough going on. So much time is wasted. And as Don moves from woman to woman the whole thing becomes so repetitive. After the endless lulls when he meets the next woman on his list you desperately want the movie to perk up, for something big to happen. But the movie falls into the trap where it's basically just the same thing again and again. Nothing ever really happens. Don is searching for answers, searching for himself. But in this case it is the audience which never really finds what it is looking for.