Bill Murray gives one of his most actor-ly performances in “St. Vincent” (2014), but it’s still his innate ability to play a curmudgeon with a heart of gold that makes him so good. This appealingly under-the-radar gem has a standout cast behind him as it tells a tale that’s broadly familiar: A bitter old neighbor (Murray as Vincent) gradually warms up to the kid next door (Jaeden Lieberher as Oliver).
Sweet tale of a mean man
Writer-director Theodore Melfi (“Hidden Figures”) doesn’t craft the most original work, as “About a Boy” and Zach Braff and Cameron Crowe films come to mind, especially when the soundtrack and score kick in. But darn it, “St. Vincent” is a thoroughly lovable experience.
Murray does his best to not make Vincent lovable, though. He is openly mean to his new neighbor, Maggie (Melissa McCarthy). He drinks, smokes, gambles; all the major vices are checked off. Murray tries to infuse Vincent with a Brooklyn accent, as that’s where the action is set (in the recent past, as the tech is slightly out of date). I can’t say Murray is good or consistent with the accent, but it doesn’t affect my enjoyment much.
“St. Vincent” (2014)
Director: Theodore Melfi
Writer: Theodore Melfi
Stars: Bill Murray, Melissa McCarthy, Naomi Watts
Great supporting cast
Naomi Watts, on the other hand, does a great Russian accent as Daka, the film’s most extreme character – a stripper and prostitute who spends a lot of time with Vincent. He’s paying her, but she’s also apparently pregnant with his baby. And maybe she even likes him for real.
“St. Vincent” is packed with strange relationships like this. They aren’t anything you’re likely to see in the real world, but of course, movies like this thrive on being just a little off-kilter. Among other examples, Oliver makes a new best friend after they beat the crap out of each other. This was also seen in “Rocky V,” and it could’ve used more depth here.
Maggie, meanwhile, is amid divorce proceedings and hates her ex’s guts. Oliver is adopted, and they are disputing custody. In a great line, Maggie suggests she can’t get pregnant because her tubes recoiled at her ex’s sperm.
Because McCarthy’s post-“Gilmore Girls” career hype has centered on her broad comedies, “St. Vincent” is a comparatively low-key delight. McCarthy (who will also appear in Melfi’s upcoming third film, “The Starling”) can nail the delivery of funny lines when she needs to.
But she crafts a complete performance as a mom who is busting her tail at her nurse job to give her son a good life, and who plugs away at all the day’s annoyances. Vincent, for instance, keeps bugging her to pay for the fence the moving truck backed over, plus the branch they broke off his tree. She’s not sure how to pay for a branch.
Beyond the surface
Lieberher is the film’s secret weapon. He’s slightly beyond-his-years, as is inevitable in a movie like this, but we can see how he takes after his mom in dealing with horrible situations rather than crying about them. Oliver is both the runty kid he appears to be, and preternaturally wise. He can see beyond people’s surfaces.
Speaking of surfaces, “St. Vincent” gets good visual comedy out of the neighboring homes: Vincent’s is rundown, Maggie’s is immaculate. The homes reflect what the people want themselves to be.
Melfi and Murray are intent on dodging schmaltz here. Indeed, it could be argued that no one changes all that much from start to finish; it’s just that they undergo wild and trying experiences.
“St. Vincent” is more about the fact that you can’t know someone from their outer shell and broad behavior. But if you do make the attempt – and young Oliver is short enough on cynicism to give it a try – you’re likely to be rewarded.