Netflix's 'Nonnas' Is Exactly What It Sets Out To Be, and That's Just Fine

You’d have to be deranged to trash a movie about a guy grieving his Italian mother by opening a restaurant and hiring a bunch of nonnas to be the chefs because he misses her cooking. I’m not going to be that deranged critic, especially as it is inspired by a true story of a restaurant still operating in Staten Island.

Nonnas is exactly what you expect: cozy, predictable, and dripping with nostalgia, so much so that the ’80s look like the ’60s for some reason. While predictability might be what you want from dinner, it’s usually not what you crave from a movie, but in this case, I’ll allow it. It’s not quite the Sunday supper it wants to be, but it’s close enough to Rao’s and some Barilla to be satisfying.

Vince Vaughn plays Joe Scaravella, a dock worker who uses his inheritance after his mom dies to open an Italian restaurant. Joe Manganiello is Bruno, his best friend and a contractor who helps transform the fixer-upper into a warm, inviting establishment. Drea de Matteo plays Bruno’s wife, and Linda Cardellini is Olivia, the long-lost love Joe stood up at prom three decades ago.

But it’s the nonnas who make the movie what it is: Susan Sarandon, Lorraine Bracco, Brenda Vaccaro, and Talia Shire play the older Italian women, living out their twilight years until Joe’s restaurant — and cooking for it — gives them purpose. They make Italian food. They fight. They bond. They’d have voted for Pope Pizzaballa.

Of course, there are complications — failed inspections, money problems, a lack of customers — but it all ends up exactly where you expect it to, and the ride is mostly pleasant. The nonnas are a delight, Vaughn is charming, and Cardellini is effortlessly Cardellini.

It’s also the perfect distraction to watch with your in-laws over a holiday or a long weekend when you need 90 blessed minutes of peace. There’s no inappropriate language, no one dies a violent death, and there are no risque hook-ups you have to worry about watching with Granny. And if you doze off for 20 minutes, you won’t miss a thing. The whole thing feels like a 90-minute ad for your favorite neighborhood Italian spot, and if it doesn’t leave you craving lasagna and Sunday gravy, your poor appetite has probably been murdered.