It’s always a party when Bill Murray is involved. Everyone’s favorite Ghostbuster (and patron saint for those who didn’t want to see their favorite paranormal investigators and eliminators sullied by an Egon-less sequel (only to inadvertently trigger the proposed all-female version headed by Paul Feig of “Bridesmaids”) has a new movie, and, as whenever it is he comes out with something new, there is quite a bit of buzz surrounding it.
“St. Vincent” doesn’t seem to be quite as Catholic as its title may suggest. Murray plays a curmudgeon named Vincent, a war veteran who is fond of woman, drink and general debauchery, who encounters a young boy whose family is fresh off a divorce. Vincent befriends the boy, and along the way encounters his mother (Melissa McCarthy of same “Bridesmaids” and in an interesting bit of synergy one whose name has been bandied about as one of the proposed woman Ghostbusters).
It has quirky, crowd-pleasing-but-with-a-hint-of-dark-humor indie drama written all over it, and of course that’s Murray’s specialty. And indeed the story of getting Murray to sign on is quirkier than any movie could ever be (yeah, look that story up when you have a minute), just adding to the pantheon of classic Murray real-life bits, whether he’s being something of a diva on set or making an impromptu short film with autograph seekers. Bill Murray is the rare actor whose reality lives up to the legend.
