Sunday, June 2, 2019

FILM REVIEW: Broken Flowers (2005)



Part of the Jim Jarmusch ‘All About the Masters’ Series

~ Greatest Favorite ~

When we are in our youth, we are sometimes encouraged not to worry too much about the future – live in the moment, have fun, enjoy ourselves, the works. Of course, pleasure in any way becomes something we go after time and time again. I sometimes wonder if that chase for pleasure eventually molds into an internal way of covering up a lack of direction or knowledge of what we really want out of life. In the context of this review, I’m not necessarily referring to people who forgot to prepare for life, but people who had that a particular frivolity or vice that didn’t dominate their lives, but spent just a hair too much involvement in. Some years, or even decades, later, a period of time in that individual’s headspace puts them in the train tracks of thought, with a freight train of realization headed straight for them – “What have I been doing this whole time?” I think that’s the state of mind Don Johnston of Broken Flowers is in.

Johnston (Bill Murray) was a lady’s man back in his day, with many, many girlfriends to reminisce about. But that was then, and now he’s over the hill, voluntarily confined to his living room couch. Granted, he seems to make a comfortable living with a successful computer business under his belt, but there appears to be something missing in his life. One afternoon, though, a curious and compelling piece of mail arrives from an ex-lover. Unbeknownst to Johnston, this unknown ex (there is no name or return address on the mail) birthed Johnston’s son, who is now searching for his father. With a bouquet of flowers in hand, Johnston rises from the couch and sets out on a cross-country trip to solve the mystery of the unknown lover’s identity.

As much as I enjoy Bill Murray’s uniquely dry style of acting (as anybody does), I’ve never been able to completely warm up to him, and films like Broken Flowers and Lost in Translation break my heart to say that. These two films exhibit Murray as a true master of subtlety, the kind of actor that speaks great volumes with the slightest widening of the eyes. While the supporting performances are all wonderful (especially Jeffrey Wright as Murray’s partner-in-crime through this whole ordeal), the power of Broken Flowers rests almost exclusively on Murray’s shoulders. Murray is perfectly in tune with the tone Jarmusch is aiming for (a common praise I’ve given), and the result is one of his very best performances.

Jarmusch is known for being a bittersweet filmmaker, and Broken Flowers is Jarmusch leaning more toward bitter on the bittersweet spectrum. Broken Flowers is a bittersweet odyssey into one man’s surreal realization of the years that have passed, along with the changes that his surroundings and acquaintances have undergone, a moment I think we’ve all experienced in some capacity at some point in our lives. The entirety of Broken Flowers feels like that very thing, and never once loosens its grip. It may be a fact of life, but it’s never a fun thought to dwell on. The more I think and write about this film, the more tragic I realize it to be, all accentuated by a truly powerful ending that is simultaneously uplifting, heartbreaking, and thought-provoking.

It’s not all sadness, though. Peppered throughout Broken Flowers is enough of Jarmusch’s offbeat brand of humor to get enough chuckles out of viewers, particularly Johnston’s first stop, where he is greeted by this particular ex-lover’s Lolita-esque daughter named, well, Lolita. Keep a close eye on Murray’s facial reactions and try not to laugh. I dare you. And then there’s his visit to another ex-lover – once with a passionate desire to be a lawyer, and now she is an animal psychic (erm, excuse me; animal communicator). As funny as these particular moments are, they, like the rest of the movie, always remain grounded in the film’s uniquely bittersweet tone.

As I write this, I’m quite stricken by how little I have to say about it. While the script is plenty witty, it’s a film based off of wordless performance and feeling, so there’s not too much script to comment on. Cinematography gets the job done, but isn’t particularly special here. Granted, Jarmusch isn’t known for being a grandiose visionary, but there’s not much to comment on with Broken Flowers. Music doesn’t leave much to comment on either, but the film does feature a snippet of Sleep’s “Dopesmoker” – as a huge Sleep fan, I absolutely have to comment on that.

But the fact that Broken Flowers is so powerful in spite of so little to comment on is what makes it so special, and such a great film – so much so that I am adding it to my Greatest Favorites. While remaining grounded in that unique Jarmusch style, it also exhibits him delving into more emotional and existential (perhaps even personal) territory on a scale never before seen in his body of work. Sure, he has sacrificed some of that signature coolness with the absence of classic indie and hard rock ingredients, but it’s a sacrifice for the better and more universal.

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