Broken Flowers

We saw Broken Flowers at the Coolidge Corner Theater last night. It was a large space and every seat was taken. The ticket line wound around the block.

The overall impression I have of the movie is, silence. There are scenes of Bill Murray sitting, on his couch, at the airport, in a plane, in his rental car. Don Johnston (Murray) gets an anonymous letter on pink paper, in a pink envelope. It's from an old flame telling him they had a son together and the 19 year old is out there looking for him. Don sets out on a journey, searching for clues, visiting the five women (one dead) he knew 20 years ago. He learns something about them...but a lot about himself at each place. Frances Conroy (who I adore from Six Feet Under; only 3 episodes left *sob*), Sharon Stone (quite competent) and Tilda Swinton (smallish role) are the three women who stand out for me.

Ultimately it is a story (even though nothing conclusive happens, so beware) about trying to connect in an increasingly alienating world. Of the fear of letting time fly past and ending up alone. Those are the stories (like Sideways, Lost in Translation, etc. etc.) that resonate with me. That feeling that we all have at some points in time, of feeling bereft of a culture, a real place, from people...from everything around us. This movie captures that so well but in a quiet, unassuming, slow way.

While at one level it was frustrating to have no ta-dah moments and no real conclusions, it was enjoyable in the way small quiet moments are.