Broken
Flowers begins as Bill Murray’s aging, womanizer/commitment-phobic character
(Don Johnston) is being left by his current main-squeeze (Julie Delpy). Don reacts
to this development with the same kind of stoic resignation that has become the
trademark of the (now Oscar caliber Murray). Gone is the over-the-top “but
the flowers will all die” Bill - who suffered a similar fate in the opening
scenes of Stripes. And rather than join the army, Don would have taken the loss
in stride and moved on - were it not for the fact that Delpy hands him a pink
envelope that she finds on the doorstep on her way out.
The
envelope contains a pink letter from an anonymous ex-lover informing him that
he is the father of an eighteen year old son, who has recently packed up a duffel
bag and has set out in search of Don. Of course, Don is intrigued by the prospect,
but would’ve been perfectly content to let the “chip off the old block”
fall where he may, had he not shown the letter to his neighbor and friend Winston
(an endearing Jeffrey Wright). Winston, a loving family man (pretty much the polar
opposite of Don), insists that Don write down the names and as much pertinent
information as he can remember about the women who might (chronologically) be
candidates for the boy’s mother. After a night of computer research, Winston
presents Don with a coprehensive travel itinerary complete with plane tickets
and Mapquest printouts. He also briefs him on his mission. He is to seek out clues
as to which one of these women typed the ominous pink letter - any pink items
(a pink typewriter is the ultimate smoking gun) photographs of a male child etc,
etc.
Naturally
it takes a good bit of prodding to convince the skeptical and set-in-his-ways
Don to embark on such a potentially painful and patently ridiculous ride. But
a lonely night in his now empty love nest, and the relentless lobbying by Winston
is enough to let curiosity gets the better of the beleaguered Garfield. Murray
has become so good at playing these very minimal, yet richly nuanced characters
that you really can’t take your eyes off him for fear of missing some fleeting
facial expression that might either crack you up of break your heart. He inhabits
these melancholy mid-lifers in a way that is so personal, that there is an almost
voyeuristic element for those in the audience. He manages to portray loneliness
in a way that doesn’t inspire pity so much as it causes one to examine their
own most painful existential questions.
While
Murray’s turn here is certainly a close cousin to his Oscar nominated performance
in Lost in Translation, you can follow an arc of similar such morose meanderers
- particularly in his collaborations with Wes Anderson. Though played more for
comedy - the pathos of his lovelorn millionaire in Rushmore, his cuckolded Psych
researcher in The Royal Tenenbaums, and even the brash Steve Zissou was rendered
vulnerable when coming to terms with a full-grown son in Life Aquatic. A theme
that he returns to from a much different angle in Broken Flowers. It would be
a long and pointless debate over which performance is his best - I suppose it
boils down to Lost in Translation and Broken Flowers, both films required of the
actor that he convey so much of the story not with words but by his endlessly
fascinating and expressive face. For example we learn early on that one of the
women on his list had died several years ago and his visit to her gravesite is
gorgeously heartbreaking. Credit director Jim Jarmusch for executing it to perfection.
Don’s
excursion into his previous lives and loves is endlessly poignant, at times funny,
and quite frightening in several ways. The actresses he must visit in his Dickensian
“Ghost of Cupid past” give outstanding performances. From the widowed
Sharon Stone (who looks as stunning as ever) with her comely teenage daughter
Lolita (Alexia Dziena) whom, as we all find out in a moment of well . . . revelation
- is more than a handful. Stone proves to be the most cordial, but as Don presses
on, his sudden appearances are met with less and less enthusiasm. I shan’t
go into very much more detail so as not to play the spoiler.
The
other women that await him are played by Frances Conroy, a married real estate
professional whom, due to medical reasons has been unable to bear children. She
is married to her real estate partner, a convivial, but creepy Christopher MacDonald.
Without explaining exactly why, this particular stop is truly the most devastating.
Again much credit belongs to Jarmusch who has long been a master at making silence
speak volumes. Jessica Lange is next on the agenda. She has become rich and successful
as an “animal communicator,” and has also written three best-selling
books on the subject. This vignette serves up some of the best comical moments
of the film - courtesy of a cat who doesn’t like Don any more than Lange’s
secretary (a very impolite Chloe Sevigny). We eventually learn the reason for
her cold shouldering, but I’ll let you figure that one out when you see the
film.
The last
stop on his voyage proves to be the most fruitful in terms of clues, as Don finds
himself a rather unwelcome trespasser in a ramshackle and filthy biker house.
He is greeted by his ex-lovers new significant other, along with his menacingly
large buddy (between the two of them they might have a full set of teeth). His
chat with an almost unrecognizable Tilda Swinton is a short one and Don is escorted
rather unceremoniously off the property.
I
shan’t give away any more - suffice to say that upon his return he has become
quite obsessed with learning his sons identity - though he professes otherwise
to Winston. Many will argue over the way the film ends - but in retrospect I think
it was the perfect ending. The last scene demonstrates a significant change of
heart in Don’s Grinch-like demeanor, this coupled with the fact that he is
in possession of the requisite clues - makes the ending work - however unsatisfying
it might be to some.
