St. Vincent: Movie Review

Bill Murray: the patron saint of transforming mediocrity into artistry.

DIRTY WORK: Bill Murray and Jaeden Lieberher.

Freshman director Theodore Melfi is a very, very lucky man. Under most circumstances, his debut, St. Vincent, would be blasted for its contrived, overwrought plot. Does the world really need another story about a mean old bastard who finds redemption and purpose thanks to a precocious child?

But luckily for Melfi, that crusty bastard is played by Bill Murray, which makes St. Vincent a sterling example of a performer elevating tired material into something special. The actor takes what could have been a geriatric riff on About a Boy and molds it into a showcase of his ever-evolving comedic prowess, lacing his role with layers of sadness, anger and vulnerability.

Murray plays Vincent, a chain-smoking, whiskey-chugging Brooklynite whose gambling addiction puts him in dire straits with bookies. When an overworked single mother (a subdued Melissa McCarthy) moves in next door, Vincent is quickly and reluctantly enlisted to babysit Oliver (newcomer Jaeden Lieberher), a bullied, meek and (ugh!) precocious kid who follows Vincent around like a puppy and calls him "Sir."

Will Oliver break through Vincent's tough veneer? Will his Catholic school project eventually give the movie its title? Will Vincent's tendency to take Oliver to dive bars and horse track put him into conflict with Oliver's mother, forcing a split between the unlikely friends that will eventually be mended in a heartwarming finale?

Duh.

On its own, St. Vincent would be a cross between melodrama and a sitcom, complete with Naomi Watts as a pregnant Russian prostitute whose accent makes Natasha Fatale's sound understated. But Murray makes the material sing. Vincent is an amalgam of some of the actor's most iconic roles, blending Phil Connors' bleak worldview, Peter Venkman's wiseass charms and Herman Blume's innate sadness. And while Melfi hits familiar beats, he throws in a couple of tragic midfilm twists—one wholly expected, one a devastating blindside—that help to draw out one of Murray's best-ever performances. 

Critic's Grade: B-

SEE IT: St. Vincent is rated PG-13. It opens Friday at Fox Tower, Cedar Hills.

WWeek 2015

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