Bill Murray Brings The Mirth To The Likable Throwaway ST. VINCENT

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ST. VINCENT (Dir. Theodore Melfi, 2014)

Bill Murray�s Vincent MacKenna is the latest in a long line of lovable losers that the actor has portrayed stretching back to his time as a Not Ready For Prime Time Player on Saturday Night Live in the �70s. 

Vincent, a schlubby Brooklynite, is a boozing, gambling, politically incorrect curmudgeon, with an Irish-tinged accent who regularly sleeps with a pregnant prostitute, played by Naomi Watts. The character is a bit older than Murray himself � by 4 years, enough to make him a Vietnam vet, which we see in fleeting glimpses of old photos that look like repurposed stills from STRIPES.

The film, which is a bit schlubby itself, concerns Murray befriending his 12-year old neighbor, played by the predictably precocious yet still winsome Jaeden Lieberher. The kid�s mother, a much more subdued than usual Melissa McCarthy, is recently divorced and overworked as a hospital tech so she hires Murray to look after her son. This is indeed a very questionable decision, but what�s a stressed-out single mother in an indie comedy to do?

Of course, Murray teaches the nerdy Lieberher how to fight, takes him along on his daily trips to the race track, and favorite bar and strip club, while they form an unlikely bond. However, in the overly familiar world of this movie, it�s a completely likely bond.

Writer/director Theodore Melfi in his feature length film debut is working very much in the vein of ABOUT A BOY, BAD SANTA, BAD GRANDPA, GRAND TORINO, and even UP � you know, movies in which a curmudgeon finds redemption via a relationship with a needy kid.

That�s not to say that ST. VINCENT isn�t an entertaining and likable experience. It�s great to see Murray in a much juicier starring role than his last lead (in 2012�s HYDE PARK ON THE HUDSON), and his tossed off delivery of such lines as �call a plumber� when Watts tells him her water broke is consistently amusing.

Lieberher�s career as a child actor is off to a good start here as he works well and has a good believable chemistry with Murray and McCarthy. It�s great as well to see McCarthy playing a reasonable, real person and not another over-the-top comic concoction (*cough* TAMMY).

Watts� Russian hooker character is initially pretty broad, but gets more and more depth as the film goes on. Her accent isn�t very convincing, but since Murray�s accent itself slips in several instances, it�s not really an issue.

The rest of the supporting cast is well chosen, especially Chris O�Dowd as a deadpan Catholic school teacher, and a subtly menacing Terrence Howard as Murray�s bookie. 30 Rock�s Scott Adsit also appears as McCarthy�s ex-husband, but I don�t recall if he even said anything significant.

ST. VINCENT�s soundtrack is cool too. Two catchy songs, �Everyone Hides,� and �Why Why Why,� by Wilco founder/front man Jeff Tweedy�s solo project Tweedy are prominently featured, along with apt tracks by Jefferson Airplane, The Webs, and The National. One of the film�s highlights has Murray singing along to the Bob Dylan classic �Shelter From the Storm� while tending to his yard, but not in a Nick the Lounge Singer way at all.

Millennials may think of the art rock musician, St. Vincent (who headlined the Hopscotch festival here in Raleigh last September), but the title refers to the premise of Lieberher being assigned a school project about modern saints in which he picks Murray�s Vincent to profile. This involves a very standard ending involving Murray getting applause by a packed church after the build up by quite a snazzy power-point presentation Lieberher somehow put together.

There�s an article in the latest Rolling Stone about how cool Murray is because he�s so beloved that he can get away with almost anything. And yeah, it does look like the man is living it up from the reports of party crashing, photo bombing, and other assorted shenanigans I seem to hear about daily, so much so that his film career feels secondary to his life just �Being Bill Murray� (the title of Gavin Edward�s RS piece).

So a film like this is a fine albeit formulaic showcase for Murray, but it�s nowhere near a great movie. It�s a likable throwaway best for a matinee. The late, great movie critic Gene Siskel often said when evaluating movies: �I ask myself if I would enjoy myself more watching a documentary of the same actors having dinner.�

The answer for ST. VINCENT in that regard is definitely that a documentary of Murray and his co-stars dining would be much better than this. A documentary about following Murray around for a while, a week, a month, a year, whatever, would also blow this away I bet. Somebody should get on that.

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TAMMY: The Film Babble Blog Review

Now playing at a plus-size multiplex near you...

TAMMY (Dir. Ben Falcone, 2014)

Although she�s been in mostly mediocre movies, Melissa McCarthy is one of the funniest people on the planet. I�ve witnessed McCarthy�s blustery brand of in your face humor eliciting loud, pure laughter from audiences throughout such throwaway comedies as IDENTITY THIEF and last summer�s THE HEAT (both huge hits), and her commitment to even the stupidest of sketches has made her hosting stints on Saturday Night Live into events.

But even with the low expectations I had going into her latest lowbrow lark, I felt largely let down.

TAMMY, the dream project of McCarthy and her husband Ben Falcone (best known as the Air Marshall in BRIDESMAIDS), who co-wrote and directed, is about a white trashy loser who after getting fired from her job, and finding out her husband has been cheating, goes on a cross country road trip with her grandmother (Susan Sarandon).

Since we�ve got Sarandon�s presence in a summer road-trip scenario involving a robbery and some tawdry living, let�s consider it THELMA AND LOUISE, just not with Louise or the cultural significance.

We first meet McCarthy�s Tammy on her way to work at the fictional chain �TopperJacks� singing along to the �80s track �Your Love� by the Outfield (apparently the singing along to the car radio scene in IDENTITY THIEF was such a success that it bears repeating).

McCarthy collides with a deer, and totals her car, but, as if to show us she�s got a heart, she attempts to give the wounded animal CPR. Next, our mess of a heroine gets fired from her crappy job by her slimy boss (Falcone), then comes home to find hubby Nat Faxon having an elegant dinner with Toni Collette as his neighbor mistress.

McCarthy packs her things and walks three houses down to mother Allison Janney�s house (everybody lives on the same street, which is fairly funny) where she decides to up and leave town with the boozing Sarandon, as her grandmother has a car and lots of cash, to go visit Niagara Falls.

McCarthy and Sarandon drink heavily (while driving), McCarthy gets in a jet skiing accident, and they hook-up with Gary Cole and Mark Duplass as father and son at a Louisiana bar. Well, actually, Sarandon hooks up with Cole, but McCarthy comes on a bit strong and scares off Duplass.

More drunken mischief, and a bag of illegal oxycontin, lands the duo in jail with only enough money to bail out McCarthy, so she turns to crime in the form of robbing a �TopperJacks� in order to get the money.

The hold-up set piece, with McCarthy sporting a bag on her head while she clutches her sunglasses wrapped up in another bag to resemble a gun, is for sure the funniest part of the film, no small thanks to the exchanges with the place�s employees Sara Baker (who made a bit of splash recently on Louie), and Rich Williams (guitarist for the band Kansas).

After that slowly heads downhill despite the always welcome Kathy Bates popping up as an old friend of Sarandon�s who�s hosting a lesbian Fourth of July party with her girlfriend Sandra Oh, who I can�t remember having a significant line or moment in the movie. Same thing could be said for Colette and Janney, come to think of it.

At least Dan Aykroyd as McCarthy�s father who comes in towards the end makes more of an impression.

TAMMY feels like a slapdash affair, even though McCarthy and Falcone worked on it for several years. I can�t say I didn�t laugh at TAMMY, but the film has way less than a third of the laughs that 22 JUMP STREET had. 

A lot of gags are lazy, and depend on the lead character�s stupidity like a bit about not knowing who Mark Twain was, or cursing the price of gasoline with the obvious and overdone line �Thanks, Obamacare!�

And in the emotional resonance department, the realizations and lessons about family learned just seem like standard sitcom connections.

Still, TAMMY will most likely conquer the box office this fourth of July holiday weekend. I felt such a warmth towards McCarthy at the preview screening I attended, and I think it�s because many Americans really relate and see themselves in her. That�s especially true here in the south where the film was largely shot.

But the way TAMMY most resembles America is that with this much potential, it really should be better than it is.

Happy Independence Day everybody!

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