Jim Jarmusch’s new film Broken Flowers starts out entertaining – with an intriguing premise and lackadaisical humour, but soon the faery-step pacing becomes too much, and arty minimalism turns to rather bland self indulgence.
The story itself is great, and I’m certain I would have appreciated this film more if it had moved at a slighter quicker pace. I loved Ghost Dog: The Way of the Samurai, but Jarmusch seemed intent on halving the speed of that great movie with Broken Flowers. In Ghost Dog there were some wonderfully contemplative moments as Forrest Whittaker drove through the shadowy city streets, his speakers pumping hip hop. In Broken Flowers there are similar moments, but they simply seem tiresome. In fact we actually hear the same song several times throughout the film.
Jarmusch aficionados I’m sure will be impressed with his latest effort, but it takes a certain kind of viewer to be patient enough to enjoy Broken Flowers. I like to think I have a great attention span (as evidenced by sitting through the entire of The Cremaster Cycle) and have no problem with ambiguity, but Broken Flowers was just a little too much (or not enough).