Strictly for adults, St. Vincent is basically Gran Torino mixed with About a Boy; but with less glorified machismo than the former, and more genuine pathos than the latter. The characters are finely crafted even while the plot meanders about in search of a thematic hook worthy of its performances.
Bill Murray is in rare form as a crusty misanthrope Vincent who begrudgingly befriends his new 12 year-old precocious neighbor Oliver (Jaeden Lieberher) whose single mother Maggie (Melissa McCarthy) works long hours as a lab technician to make ends meet.
The performances are splendid all around. Naomi Watts adds some additional comedic relief as a blunt Russian prostitute who takes pity on sad-sack Vincent even while he’s costing her money.
If the formula seems simple and familiar it’s because it is. The old Scrooge encounters wide-eyed innocence in need of help and slowly opens his heart to friendship. Along the way, the old Scrooge slowly reveals how past trauma has made him so… scroogy. It’s easy to guess who ends up helping who the most.
Writer-director Theodore Melfi smartly lets his script and the cast do most of the heavy lifting. There are moments of visual flair, but they never steal center stage from the characters. All the major emotional beats are right on target.
This is a memorable film. And that’s a significant accomplishment considering the deluge of recent mediocrity.