Friday, 5 December 2014


St. Vincent is one of those brilliant films that blindside you, by giving off the impression that it will be mediocre, and actually turning out to be sheer excellence.

It is the tale of miserly old Vincent (Bill Murray), who drinks too much, smokes too much, gambles too much, and runs over his own white picket fence, entirely too much. Not akin to the concept of moderation (or showering), he is a weekly enjoyer of Daka, a pregnant Russian 'Lady of the Night' (Naomi Watts), who apparently keeps no-one else in his life, until Maggie (Melissa McCarthy) moves in with her adopted 12-year-old son Oliver (Jaeden Lieberher). Feeling the pinch of his debts, including a dangerous one to the typecast Terrence Howard character of Zucko the Bookie; a bad first day for Oliver at his new school, provides him with the opportunity to squeeze a few babysitting bucks out of Maggie. As the characters further entwine themselves in each other's worlds, it results in all of them colliding when multiple tragedies strike.

The role of Maggie gives Melissa McCarthy the opportunity to do what has been so desperately needed of her, after a spate of far too similar roles. The toe-curlingly awful 'Tammy' proved she was overdue a character change, and she played this one to perfection. Bill Murray reminds you why he has always been so horrifically underappreciated as an actor; and little Jaeden whatshisface is quite the adorable breakout star.

St. Vincent is quite the funny tearjerker, that has no boring dips, which will keep you engrossed for its entire 102 minutes.

Until the next...
ES ;)