Film

Bill Murray’s crusty side lets St. Vincent cash in a winning ticket

Melissa McCarthy and new kid Jaeden Lieberher play off the curmudgeon perfectly

Bill Murray is terrific as Vince MacKenna. Sure, he’s funny in this writing and directing debut from Theodore Melfi; the broad stroke paints St. Vincent as a comedy. Imbd calls it such. Wikipedia goes with comedy-drama. As I sat through the 102 minutes of the late afternoon Saturday matinee, I found it to be a pleasing hybrid of a film. The crusty Sheepshead Bay world of Vietnam vet MacKenna is no place for any sort of the kind of slapstick that’s brought Murray to the front of the comedic line in decades past. Oh, wait, there he is backing his vintage woodie paneled car over his white-picket fence and taking down his mailbox as he tries to conclude a post-bar excursion into his driveway. No, this is kind of sad. He bops a Russian hooker – Naomi Watts, taking the part as far as she can from stereotype – in his bed. Well, he lets her do the bopping, and even drives her in his car and talks to her so we can discover that her name is Daka, she’s pregnant and they’re a regular thing. No, this is kind of dramatic.
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