Broken Flowers (2005)

OK, I am a fan of Bill Murray and his minimalist acting. I loved this movie's concept and I was eager to see it. Nevertheless when I finally did, it was like watching paint dry (with no real or implied plot development going on behind Bill's ragged drooping eyelids). I gave Lost in Translation five stars because I could infer and empathize with the ennui and anomie that were inimical to Bill's persona. Broken Flowers is so thoroughly minimalist, on the other hand, that it stands virtually indiscernible from an ottoman collecting dust (interspersed with scenes of planes taking off and cars ambling down country roads). It became almost painful how Bill did little more than mope or stare into the distance with a blank expression -- a truly blank expression, because he never gave any hint of a consciousness or a will behind those vacant stares, much less any potential to learn or grow through his experiences, which were generally so vacuous and futile that in the end I was aggravated since he was apparently doomed to such a fate (sort of a perpetual Groundhog Day without hope or clue of redemption). I almost gave this movie two stars but the chatty-Cathy teenyboppers on the bus helped redeem its entertainment value, as did Sharon Stone's breezy portrayal of an ex-girlfriend -- not to mention her troubling exhibitionist daughter Lolita. ("Interesting choice of name" intones Bill Murray -- in between scenes involving the near and full frontal and dorsal nudity of otherwise unknown Brea Frazier.) Frances Conroy also hints at potential for story and character development, but ultimately disappoints. Two other ex-girlfriends fail to deliver even a perfunctory whiff of plot potential. Bill's neighbors and their five children are good, sincere, happy souls -- and he expresses sincere and wistful affection for them -- yet they appear to be the antithesis of what vexes him and he can never have. Frustrating! Three stars.