I expected a predictable premise with plenty of Hollywood sap, a familiar plot, and a feel-good ending. I think with another cast, that might be all that St. Vincent did, fading quickly into the background of bigger, better, deeper movies. But this cast works together so beautifully, each also shining individually, that St. Vincent also made for an enjoyable afternoon at the movies.
Yes, Bill Murray is great as Vincent. He brings warmth and bitterness at the same time, often in the same scenes. And what a pleasure to see Melissa McCarthy in a role that has nothing to do with her size but only to do with her as an actress. Young Jaeden Lierberher plays Oliver with wonderful charm and just enough cute. But for me, the top nod goes to Naomi Watts, playing a pregnant Russian prostituting stripper. She plays this role so well, that I had to struggle to even call to memory her outstanding performance in The Impossible two years ago. To portray two vastly different people so well that I cannot tell it’s the same actress is indeed a gift.
I went to see the acting (Murray with a Golden Globe nomination and Watts a SAG nom), and I was prepared to endure a sugar-coated movie tied up nicely with a pretty bow. But I left pleasantly surprised at having enjoyed a movie that made me laugh (often loudly, and given that I was only one of two in the theater, that seemed *really* loud!) and even snort and yes, cry (recall, I didn’t say that it was not predictable). Sometimes predictable is done well. St Vincent is one of those times.