What is it about Bill Murray that inspires filmmakers to make sluggish arty movies revolving around his close ups and facial expressions? Last night I rented Broken Flowers. I believe I’ve seen this movie before – it was called Lost in Translation. Don’t get me wrong, I am a fan of independent film. But lately so many indies have been painstakingly slow, and a few appealing characters sprinkled within do not make up for two lackluster hours of my life at a snail’s pace. I never understood the Lost in Translation hype, regardless of my affinity for Murray or Scarlett Johansson. (Aside: I recently watched The Godfather Part III, which reminded me that Sophia Coppola made the right decision by not becoming an actress. As for directing - besides being aesthetically pleasing, both Lost in Translation and The Virgin Suicides did not impress me at all.) Bill Murray has played a variation on the same role for several years now, but at least Rushmore and The Royal Tenenbaums made me laugh and held my interest for the duration of the film. Be warned: Broken Flowers is a serious yawner, almost on par with The Life Aquatic.