I'm figuring this review out as I type it.

Bill Murray has stated that he won't be making any movies for awhile, and it's no wonder. All of the characters he gets these days are pained, lonely, soulfull and while he makes it look easy and perfect, it can't be real fun all the time. But thank god he has done this latest chapter in the actor's prolific career. I don't want to imagine a world without Rushmore, The Royal Tennebaums, The Life Aquatic, or Lost in Translation. And now, Broken Flowers. Possibly the best of them all.

Now, it's difficult for me to say that, "best of them all", when Rushmore is my favorite movie of all time, and Life Aquatic is such a beautiful film. But, they are Wes Anderson, and let's be honest, that guys all about the wacky. His films have so much going on in them, and while none of it is ever clutter, it can be a bit like a circus act, off-handedly waiting for the next trick. Which is amazing that Bill Murray can still do his hyper-understated, deadpan, mournful... thing, in both Wes Anderson's universe, and the serene translucent lake of Lost in Translation, or Broken Flowers. Not to say that Bob Harris is the same guy as Steve Zissou, not at all, but that essence of neo-Murray is the heart of both characters, and I'm amazed that it's in everything he does, and it's always golden!

So in Broken Flowers there's a grat deal of space. SPace Murray can comfortably relax in, and it's his space that tells us who he is. He prefers, it seems, to lay on the couch, even his girlfriend leaves him, and the mysterious letter that sets off the film arrives. It's only his neighbor's interest that pushes him anywhere, but soon he is out on the road, visting the woman who may have mothered him a son 19 years before. And it's never really concluded (as you know if you make sure to see the films I review before you read my review) who had the son, and while it's hinted that there never was one, the film makes sure to leave even that in the air. Like good internal conflict the events that set our character's growth in motion are truly a mcguffin, and it's where Don Johnston stands at the end that's important.

Or is the journey? There are several dream sequences in the film, and they evoke a sense of "what does it all mean?". After each woman Don visits, he sort of reviews the encounter in his subconcious, and it leaves us wondering what he's accomplished, and how this affects his life? Does it amount to anything? I felt that the posing of this question was all Jarmusch was interested in, and while that may be too existential for some, it's the very idea that Don might have more from his younger days than he believes. There might be more in him, defining who he is today, than his deadpan couch-sittin' suggests. Indeed, Murray's face seems to be taking everything in, and really not judging any of it. He knows he doesn't have very much figured out, so he must listen. Serene translucent lake, I'm tellin' ya.

The entire film felt this way to me. The long drives, and the silences when he does confront these women. Like a road trip to a funeral. And when we meet the animal psychic, we really believe this woman is translating for the cat that doesn't trust Don. It's all a long dream, that Don must trudge through to wake up. And then there's a bit of a chase scene, and he does wake up. And what's fantastic is that what he does, having awoken, is left open to the viewer, watching the credits. I think it was Grapes of Wrath I watched when I realized that scret of storytelling; all good stories end with the suggestion of a larger story about to unfold. The film, especially, acts as a sort of short story to suggest the novel. And this is important because time never ends, and the story can't stop happening. But a film captures one chapter of the infinite story, and is satisfied only telling us that.

So anyway, go see it if you haven't already.