A couple of days ago, we watched the lovely “St. Vincent.” The film stars a spot-on Bill Murray as Vincent, an unemployed curmudgeon living alone in an otherwise tidy residential neighborhood. Disrepair has turned Vincent’s house into an eyesore.
Vincent is eluding his threatening bookie, who is seeking repayment for money Vincent has lost on the horses. Vincent is unkempt and rude, and we are led to believe that his only “soft spot” is reserved for his white Persian cat.
Enter a subdued and quietly effective Melissa McCarthy (compare “Bridesmaids”), as a newly-single mother moving next-door to Vincent with her (flat-out adorable) young son in tow. We’ve recently been the victims of spoilers ourselves (see McDreamy), so we won’t reveal more except to note that Vincent is not quite the unredeemed ne’er-do-well he seems to be. The movie reminds us to reserve judgment and not to allow initial impressions to obscure nuance. Sometimes, there is good buried among the bad.
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