In Rose Troche's lovely ensemble film, "The Safety of Objects," the suburbs aren't bad -- they're fraught. Fraught with difficult choices, life-altering incidents, bitter estrangements, career disappointments, midlife malaise and/or panic. While the other pictures leaned toward irony bordering on contempt, this one invites compassion and understanding. For Troche, outdoor grills and gardening tools don't make her characters any less human.

That's not to say this is a paean to the good life of manicured lawns and SUVs. A.M. Homes' collection of short stories, on which "Safety" is based, is too observant and bemused for that. Still, it's not easy to remain detached from these people. They may be privileged, but they're not immune.

The interwoven plot revolves around four families living in the same neighborhood. Jim Train (Dermot Mulroney) is a workaholic lawyer who reconsiders his life when he's handed a plaque instead of a partnership. Yummy-looking Annette Jennings (Patricia Clarkson) is going through a nasty divorce and trying to raise two kids on her own -- one autistic, the other a tomboy in extremis. Annette was also involved with her neighbors' 20-ish son, Paul Gold.

Paul, however, lies in a coma, the result of a car accident. His mother, Esther (Glenn Close), tends to him faithfully, changing his clothes, playing his music (he had a band), even bringing him to sit at the breakfast table. Her devotion is so, well, overwhelming, she's alienated her husband (Robert Klein) and Paul's younger sister, Julie (Jessica Campbell).

Then there's the Christianson family, probably the least troubled of the gang. Unless you count Helen Christianson (Mary Kay Place), who's trying to reinvent herself in middle age. Excessive calorie counting is one of her more harmless ideas (she's usually munching on a rice cake, a nice feminine touch).

Finally, there's Randy (Timothy Olyphant), a handsome young handyman (and a friend of Paul's) who can fend off the advances of his older clients but can't deal with his dark feelings of guilt and despair.

All these domestic dramas take unexpected twists, as Troche deftly intermingles the stories through clever editing and acute emotional shifts. The movie's climax -- a flashback to Paul's crash -- also sheds light on a lot of what has gone before.

The parts about the Christiansons and the Trains, whose lives are less bound to the accident, aren't quite as satisfying as those of the Golds and Annette. Some of the actions the characters take -- Jim coaching Esther through a garish radio contest or Helen's little singles-scene adventure -- don't make total sense and seem invented for narrative's sake.

Still, these weaknesses are far outweighed by some marvelous details. One of the best: a Barbie doll clone, for whom Jim's adolescent son has serious sexual feelings (and who talks to him), thinks she's too fat.

Troche's growth from sketchy indie ("Go Fish") to confident independent filmmaker can best be seen in her capable handling of her strong cast. There is too much good work to name everyone, but special mention must be made of Close. In the past few years, she's been typically cast as a grotesque in things such as "101 Dalmatians" and "Sunset Boulevard." It's wonderful to be reminded of what a thoughtful and accomplished actor she can be when asked to play a regular role. In a wrenching speech, she reflects on how, the night of Paul's accident, she prayed so hard that he would live.

"Be specific with your prayers," she says. "God has a wicked sense of humor. Even if he knows you want more, he'll only give you exactly what you ask for."

We do seek safety in objects -- a guitar, a doll, a catcher's mitt, even a job. Humans aren't safe. They break. They steal away. They need help. When Helen's preadolescent daughter is told that some of her more childish stuff has been given to Goodwill, she asks poignantly, "When all of a sudden do I have to have new things?" It's a good question, one we all ask ourselves -- about relationships, work, where we live, what we do. And this movie has the answer: because that's what being alive is about.