St. Vincent
Remember Shel Silverstein’s The Giving Tree? Remember that traumatizing ending, with the apple tree sacrificing her entire being for the boy until only a stump remains? The film St. Vincent, which references the timeless tale early on, wants to be a modern-day The Giving Tree, but the book’s simplistic message of finding happiness in giving your life to others just isn’t applicable in the real world or in St. Vincent.
The saint in question is Vincent, played by Bill Murray (The Grand Budapest Hotel), and as Murray dances like nobody’s watching to Jefferson Airplane’s “Somebody to Love” early in the film, it becomes abundantly clear what kind of movie we’re about to watch. St. Vincent, the second feature-length film directed by Theodore Melfi, serves as a vehicle for the enigmatic Murray, who plays a drunken, gambling curmudgeon — a role that couldn’t be better tailored to Murray’s talents.
St. Vincent, the second runner-up at the 2014 Toronto International Film Festival, banks on the audience loving Murray, but fortunately, that’s not a very difficult task. As Vincent, Murray rocks camouflage shorts and flip-flops, going about a slovenly routine in a disheveled house while swimming in debts. It’s a well-painted picture by Melfi, who presents a promising look at his directorial vision in the completeness of Vincent’s character, down to the details of his clunky car and grassless lawn.
Vincent takes on the unwelcome task of babysitting the son of his overworked new neighbor Maggie, played by Melissa McCarthy (Tammy), succeeding in a less cartoonish role. He takes to imparting his unique worldview to the child, Oliver, competently portrayed by Jaeden Lieberher in his first feature.
Melfi, who also wrote the script for St. Vincent, shows a knack for dark comedy. St. Vincent is deeply funny with its characters’ witty quips and powerful visuals, like the mailman delivering Vincent’s mail into a destroyed mailbox. The film, however, betrays its strengths with too much forced sentimentality. While diving into Vincent’s psyche is important and a neat twist adds to his characterization, the movie too often dips into saccharine territory, especially when St. Vincent’s comedic moments prove just as touching. The film also leans on too many cinematic tropes — Oliver, who gets bullied as the new kid in school, deserves a less generic solo storyline.
But the film’s ensemble helps obscure its flaws. Murray makes it difficult not to love a character of such a dubious nature. As Maggie, McCarthy gives a raw performance as well, proving the funny lady can be just as valuable an actor when she’s given a more human role. Daka, played by Naomi Watts (Diana), also stands out, portraying probably the most endearing pregnant, Russian-accented prostitute in film history.
Like The Giving Tree, St. Vincent stumbles at the conclusion, sacrificing the film’s originality for a neater, more heartwarming ending. It’s disappointing because Melfi has a strong point of view and skillfully creates unexpected comedic moments throughout the film, but the easy route wins out here.
But then the credits begin to roll, Murray starts singing Bob Dylan’s “Shelter from the Storm” and all is right with the world.
