Jim Jarmusch is one hip cat. How hip is he? So hip that he gets looming cult figures from Iggy Pop to Rufus Thomas to appear in his films. So hip that he allegedly gets together with Nick Cave…just to watch Lee Marvin movies. In fact, Jim Jarmusch is so goddamn hip, allowing any other director to traffic in esoteric cool oughta be against the law (yes, Mr. Tarantino, that means you, too). Broken Flowers, true to form, is a “hip” movie. But it’s also engrossing and poignant, a quietly funny rumination on age and the passing of time that only occasionally seems too satisfied with itself…and that is what puts it head and shoulders above the throwaway “spot-the-hipster” tendencies of 2003′s Jarmusch shorts collection Coffee and Cigarettes.

That and a grandly understated performance by Bill Murray – himself the indisputable highlight of Cigarettes – here given 105 minutes to invest every furrowed brow, every pointed look, with the resonance Jarmusch’s script leaves wisely beneath the surface. Murray’s Don Johnston, an “aging Don Juan” who loses his latest girlfriend on the same day he learns of a son from a previous liasion, is so tailor-made for the actor that his success almost feels like cheating. After all, an impeccable series of similarly-themed roles – Rushmore, Lost in Translation, The Life Aquatic – have practically canonized Murray as thespian laureate of the underkey midlife crisis. Familiar though he may be, however, Murray in Flowers also feels like the culmination of those previous characters: you’ve never seen him as restrained, or as masterfully so, as he is here.

For Jarmusch, too, masterful restraint is the name of the game. The director unfolds the mystery of Don Johnston’s son at a speed-of-life pace, stringing us along on a cross-country odyssey as Murray revisits his past lovers, one by one. At first this trademark loose-handed direction seems aimless, with early scenes coming off so deadpan you’re tempted to check their pulse. But once Don hits the road, a hilarious sort of Latin-jazz private eye music playing on his car stereo and an impenetrable pair of shades over his eyes, Broken Flowers falls into a hypnotic groove that doesn’t let up until the final shot.

What follows is a series of touching, intimate and surreal situations, equally funny and sad and often both at once. Johnston’s exes – portrayed sublimely by Sharon Stone, Frances Conroy, Jessica Lange and Tilda Swinton – function as both “suspects” in a domestic mystery and wistful/harrowing glimpses into the life that could have been. Some of these moments come off better than others: Christopher McDonald, as Conroy’s white-toothed, squeaky-clean real estate husband, carries creepy undertones that earn Murray’s discomfort, while Stone’s scene-stealing exhibitionist daughter (Alexis Dziena) is funny but incongruous, a rare episode of blunt broad comedy in an otherwise decidedly understated film.

Overall, however, Jarmusch succeeds in making Don’s journey infinitely more fascinating, and fulfilling, than the answer to his questions could ever be. And Broken Flowers – lack of Tom Waits cameos notwithstanding – is Jarmusch’s most satisfying film in years. He’s not getting older, folks…he’s just getting hipper.

[The DVD release of Broken Flowers is strictly just-the-essentials: a standard-quality widescreen transfer of the film, with only the theatrical trailer, two mildly interesting deleted scenes and a funny (though unnecessary) bloopers real entitled "Broken Flowers: Start to Finish" for special features. But who needs special features, anyway? The DVD is worth it for this quietly funny and moving film alone.]

Reviewed by Zach Hoskins