St Vincent - Film Review

Another Yuletide season is upon us, and Bill Murray has decided to reinvent Ebenezer Scrooge for yet another generation. Having previously starred in the impeccable Scrooged in 1988, St Vincent is a more subtle, less snow-covered, ghost-filled interpretation of Dickens’ famous curmudgeon – but the hallmarks are there. Murray’s Vincent is a solitary misanthrope, whose tenderness and compassion are saved for those from his past.
Gambling and drinking his present away, Vincent’s transformative Tiny Tim comes in the form of Oliver (Jaeden Lieberher), the shy and charming 12-year-old son of his new next-door neighbour, Maggie (Melissa McCarthy, understated but underused.)
A mix of inter-generational buddy comedy and slightly rough realism, St Vincent sets itself up for all manner of cliché, and delivers them unapologetically. Vincent, a veritable Bad Santa, takes Oliver to race-tracks and grimy bars, teaches him how to fight; and then inevitably faces his own personal challenge, where Tiny Tim becomes Scrooge’s emotional crutch.
The steps are rote but both director Theodore Melfi and Murray inject some flair with a gamely two-step. Melfi’s portrayal of Brooklyn life is uncritically grimly; the neighbourhood’s dusty streets and dingy bars providing unlaboured insight into both Vincent’s smirking attitude and Maggie’s financial struggles.
Meanwhile, Murray is perfect; unsurprisingly, as the actor has stated in interviews that he’s essentially playing himself. Each sly one-liner, withering glance, brilliantly held silence and brief flashes of pure heart feels effortless and utterly true – even if his relationship with Oliver doesn’t. Though young Lieberher is a softly spoken delight, their bond is rushed with saccharine soundtracks and montages replacing real emotional development.
A vehicle for the brilliant Murray that veers into sentimentality.