It is apparent from the opening scenes of "Broken Flowers" that writer-director Jim Jarmusch wrote this script expressly for Bill Murray. The role of the expressionless, "over-the-hill Don Juan" fits Murray like a glove, his passive reaction to his circumstances reminiscent of his lauded portrayal in "Lost in Translation."

Murray is Don Johnston (‘that’s Johnston with a ‘t," he dryly corrects snickering newcomers), a wealthy loner whose fortune sprang from computers and whose recent misfortune is the departure of girlfriend Julie Delpy, who needs to "figure things out." His silent reaction to her door slamming is punctuated by his wooden posture watching Merle Oberon in the chestnut classic "Don Juan." Subtle as a sledgehammer in light of Delpy’s infidelity accusations but still funny.

Murray is jolted from his stupor with the arrival of an unsigned, pink-enveloped letter, informing him of the imminent arrival of an unknown 19-year-old son. Actually, Don is never jolted from anything. Indeed, his deadpan expression only breaks once during the entire movie. It is his neighbor, Winston (Jeffrey Wright), an enthusiastic amateur sleuth, who encourages Murray to solve the mystery by visiting four old girlfriends. Seemingly blah about this whole notion, Murray nonetheless embarks on this road trip armed with Winston’s advice—"always bring pink roses," "look for a typewriter," and his friend’s homemade jazzy CD, which soundtracks this new adventure.

Like Jarmusch’s "Mystery Train," "Stranger Than Paradise" and even "Night on Earth," "Broken Flowers" benefits from the chemistry between unusual characters packed into a road trip.

Sharon Stone’s Laura is a man-hungry widow with a teen daughter named Lolita (she’s everything you’d expect). Frances Conroy’s Dora projects a prim, childless realtor, whose suppressed emotions strain her placid face. Jessica Lange’s Carmen ¾ the most self-assured of all— is an animal "communicator," who finally makes Murray smile, and Tilda Swinton as Penny, a foul-mouthed hothead with a Lazy-Boy on her run-down porch, lands a solid punch on the hapless Murray. These are the women of Murray’s past and his encounters with each offer small clues to the enigma of his personality.

That is the beauty of this gem from the always fascinating Jim Jarmusch. Perhaps the most commercial of his efforts, "Broken Flowers" offers a subdued Murray (think of his somber clown in "Quick Change," sans makeup) juxtaposed against the life forces of femininity.

Each actress has less than 20 minutes onscreen, yet each is profoundly effective—especially Jessica Lange, whose confident eye-to- eye with Murray speaks volumes about the progress of her life since her relationship with him. There is subtle humor here—not the guffaws of a "Caddyshack" to be sure—but the quieter, ironic smiles of a man on a journey, much like Jack Nicholson’s in "About Schmidt." The predominant tone is one of bittersweet poignancy; this middle-aged man, successful on all surfaces ¾ fancy car, lavish home—but lacking any true emotional connection to another human being. Kudos to Murray for his reined-in performance ¾ his trademark of late considering "The Life Aquatic" and "Lost in Translation"¾ where a twitch of an eyebrow, the slump of shoulders or a vacant stare hint at the complexities of the man inside.

"Broken Blossoms" leaves many unanswered questions, a frustrating vagueness that might irritate some viewers, but it certainly guarantees a lively post-film discussion.

Buoyed by a jazzy soundtrack, its stellar female cast, the towering presence of Murray and Jim Jarmusch’s richly sparse script, "Broken Blossoms" undoubtedly deserved its raves at Cannes, where it garnered the Grand Prize of the Jury. Yes, this one’s a keeper.