Broken Flowers

So I'm sitting there looking at Bill Murray in Broken Flowers and trying to find traces of the man who once battled the giant Marshmallow Man with a Proton Pack and a Ghost Trap; as he sits there in his now signature position of indifferent resignation (legs slightly apart, fingers entwined and loosely hanging, shoulders slouched in some kind of existential defeat- pioneered in Lost in Translation, now perfected in Broken Flowers), I'm thinking, where is that almost deranged physical comic who drove Richard Dreyfuss (and me) to the brink of madness in What About Bob? He's gone, I swear. We saw a little of the 21st century Bill Murray in Rushmore, but I think with the triptych of Lost in Translation, Life Aquatic with Steve Zissou, and Broken Flowers, Bill Murray the comic has been laid to rest, and Bill Murray the actor has been born.

I can't think of another actor who can do awkwardness, who thrives on awkwardness almost. How do you even act awkward? If you're Bill Murray you don't act, you exude. Everything from how he never seems comfortable anywhere (he sleeps fitfully on his couch, with an ex-lover, in various motel beds, on an airplane, but never soundly), his eyes dance furtively, defensively almost, but with so much emotion, and he just generally seems ill at ease with his surroundings, other people, and even in his own skin. And therein lies the heart of Broken Flowers- one man awkwardly searching for an answer to a question he doesn't want answered.

Jude says the movie's like High Fidelity for the over-55 set. I agree, with a road trip and six pink bouquets thrown in for good measure. I enjoyed it, mostly because of Bill Murray as the perpetually baleful Don (whose one particularly wrenching scene in a cemetery should nab him an Oscar nomination if nothing else...), but also because of the actresses who play all his ex-lovers. Sharon Stone is a hoot for her brassiness, and Jude almost couldn't recognize Frances Conroy as the mum in Six Feet Under. My favorite is the exquisitely belligerent Tilda Swinton whose smouldering anger was such a refreshing change from the almost beatific Angel Gabriel in Constantine and the White Witch in the upcoming Chronicles of Narnia. The audiences' encounters with all of them are lovingly crafted, but so short-lived. It's almost like you want to invite them all to a cup of coffe, sit down, and get to know them a little better, like Don did...

And one can't help but appreciate Jim Jarmusch's nuanced, almost quiet direction (although this does dawn upon you only a while later after the credits roll). There are no obvious emotions or huge confrontations, no earthshattering confessions or revelations. Broken Flowers doesn't answer questions nor ties things up in a neat pretty bow, and for a movie that has a mystery as a premise, that can be uncomfortable. But such is life no? There will be loose ends flapping in the wind and questions echoing unanswered.

But there will also always be flowers to be offered.