I recently read a review where the critic complained that
because Bill Murray could play the grumpy old man with a soft heart in his
sleep, he couldn’t give “St. Vincent” a very high score. Never mind that Murray
is very good or that he has a stellar supporting cast. Never mind Theodore
Melfi’s script calls for Murray to pull off the jokes and plumb dramatic depths
that he isn’t often called upon to explore. Never mind that the relationship
between Vincent and young Oliver (Jaeden Lieberher), which is the heart of the
movie, is presented in all its complexity. If you can ignore all of these
elements, then you might not give “St. Vincent” a very high score either. But I
couldn’t.
A misanthrope of the highest order, Vincent lives alone with
his cat Felix. The arrival of a single mother, Maggie (Melissa McCarthy) and
her elementary-age son, Oliver (Jaeden Lieberher), in the house next door
represents an unwelcome intrusion into his island of isolation. Aside from
regular visits from prostitute Daka (Naomi Watts), Vincent doesn’t permit
anyone to violate the sanctity of his house or life until Oliver shows up after
school one day and asks for a place to hang out until his mother gets home from
work. Vincent, in desperate need of money, sees this as an opportunity to make
some quick babysitting cash. When Maggie picks up Oliver in the evening, he
offers his services on a daily basis. However, babysitting Oliver doesn’t mean
helping him with homework. It involves visits to bars, strip clubs, racetracks
and the nursing home where Vincent’s Alzheimer’s-afflicted wife is living out
her last days. “St. Vincent” doesn’t really need much beyond the performances
of Murray and Lieberher to keep you engaged. 10/2014
No comments:
Post a Comment