If you’re looking for the perfect movie for Veterans Day or believe that Bill Murray is a national treasure, see St. Vincent. St. Vincent may be formulaic, but it approaches the formula-old, crusty curmudgeon’s life changes when someone suddenly becomes a part of his life- in a fresh and an invigorating way. Why did I love it? First, it takes place in New York, one of the best places on Earth. Second, it has a dash of Bad Santa humor-enough to make it irreverent, but not too much to make it unpalatable for huge swaths of the population. St. Vincent is like a Rated R Hallmark movie. Third, the acting is terrific. Bill Murray is genius. Melissa McCarthy has briefly escaped typecasting to play a single mom trying to balance her career and take care of her son. Naomi Watts holds nothing back and is almost unrecognizable. The child actors do a terrific job and even the actors who appear briefly make a great impression: Reg E. Cathey, Chris O’Dowd, Lenny Venito, Ann Dowd. Fourth, it is a solid story with enough randomness, surprises and rough edges to make it feel closer to life than movies. St. Vincent had a similar dynamic to Chef in that there is a community and conflict, but that conflict is simply miscommunication; connections can be reestablished and everyone not only has value, but is special. St. Vincent triggered a lot of fond memories from my childhood-all the random people in my neighborhood-many of them chain smokers- who officially or unofficially watched over me when I was a kid, including the city bus drivers, hanging out in hospitals while my mom was a nurse. Fifth, there is a fluffy cat. St. Vincent is a must see-you’ll even stay for the closing credits.