‘A Little Prayer’ Movie Review: A Small, Sneakily Moving Slice-Of-Life Indie You Want To Hug
Photo from Music Box Films
From Jeremy Kibler
Neither showy nor hurried, A Little Prayer is a delicate, open-hearted indie you want to hug. Making a splash with his first feature screenplay (2005 indie gem Junebug, which gave Amy Adams a bright, nuanced supporting role in a breakthrough, Oscar-nominated performance), writer-director Angus MacLachlan tells the rare story of a bond between father and daughter-in-law. Sensitively written, directed with an observant eye, and authentically acted, A Little Prayer never once turns on the histrionics for melodrama. It’s one of those “nothing happens but everything happens” familial slices of life that, not unlike everything from Kelly Reichardt, can find grace and truth in life’s disappointments.
MacLachlan’s story is deceptively simple, focusing on North Carolina patriarch Bill (David Strathairn) quietly dealing with turmoil in his family. He and his loving but no-nonsense wife Venida (Celia Weston) are close to their two children but also their daughter-in-law. Bill runs a sheet-metal business with his son, David (Will Pullen), who lives in a small house behind them with his kind wife, Tammy (Jane Levy). One morning, Bill and Venida’s foul-mouthed daughter, Patti (a hilariously blowsy Anna Camp), shows up in Mom and Dad’s driveway after leaving her drug-addicted husband (again) with her minivan packed and her daughter (and metal detector) in tow. To exacerbate his parental anxiety, Bill fears David isn’t just working late almost every night but drinking too much and having an affair with their office receptionist, Narcedalia (Dascha Polanco). Bill doesn’t want to pry, but more importantly, he doesn’t want to lose Tammy, who’s more like his own flesh and blood.
Much like the Phil Morrison-directed Junebug, A Little Prayer is small in scale but largely attuned to the sights, sounds and happenings of everyday life. That might seem unremarkable and not at all compelling for a movie, but it’s refreshing when a filmmaker trusts the viewer to be patient and lets them just sit in the small, subtle moments. The on-location milieu of Winston-Salem, North Carolina (MacLachlan’s hometown) is so lived-in and evocative that it feels like home. Scott Miller’s gentle, unfussy cinematography never calls too much attention to itself, but one uninterrupted, almost-dizzying tracking shot from the power lines and down the family’s suburban street opens the film beautifully. Sounds of birds chirping are accompanied by an early-morning gospel sung by an unseen neighbor. That woman remains unseen for the entirety of the film, but Bill and Tammy find amusement and comfort in this woman’s singing voice, while Venida considers it a racket that’s “worse than a rooster.” A less-astute or empathetic filmmaker would mock, condescend, or lean heavily into the quirkiness of southern small-town life, but not MacLachlan.
Incapable of ever hitting a false note, longtime character actor David Strathairn deserves his special time to shine with this sublimely understated lead performance. Because of the actor playing him, we feel like we know a man like Bill. The instantly lovable Jane Levy breaks our hearts as Tammy, who only seems meek and naive. Levy brings an inner strength and emotional availability to the part, and that’s to say nothing of a personal crisis the character must deal with alone (a piece in MacLachlan’s script that doesn’t feel a grandstanding agenda, just a part of life). When Tammy later admits to being a terrible person just like everyone else, one almost wishes Tammy was given a few more character blemishes or chances to act out. Having played the mother in Junebug, Celia Weston manages to be wonderful as always, too, finding honesty, curt humor, and heartbreak in every scene as Venida.
While much of A Little Prayer is lovely, the final scene between Bill and Tammy on a bench reaches a low-key transcendence that’s most captivating to watch. If ever there needed to be a masterclass in taking what’s on the page and being a generous scene partner, writer-director MacLachlan could teach it with Strathairn and Levy. This particular scene, a hopeful farewell of sorts, is so deeply, achingly human and sneakily moving in what is said and not actually said about discovering and then losing a kindred spirit in the most unexpected places. There’s no problematic creepiness attached, just decency, protection and unconditional love. This might not be cinema at its most original or exciting, but more people might learn compassion (and how to lower your pulse) from watching A Little Prayer.
Rating: 4/5
A Little Prayer is currently in select theaters.
