Film Review: Nonnas 母愛食堂 (2025) - USA
Reviewed by Andrew Chan (Film Critic Circle of Australia)
I rated it 8/10
Rating: ★ ★ ★ ★
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There are movies that are made, and then there are movies that are cooked. “Nonnas,” the new film from Stephen Chbosky, has been simmering on the back burner for a long time, and it has reduced into something rich, nourishing, and deeply satisfying. It’s a bowl of comfort food for the soul, and I mean that as the highest compliment.
Vince Vaughn plays Joe Scaravella, a man who has lost his mother and, with her, the last tether to his own identity. He’s adrift in New York City, a big man in a big city that suddenly feels empty. In a moment of what can only be described as grief-stricken inspiration, he decides to open a restaurant. But not just any restaurant. He staffs it with the very demographic that cooked him back to life: Italian grandmothers.
If that premise sounds like the setup for a broad comedy about cranky old ladies throwing spoons, you haven’t been paying attention to Chbosky. The director of “The Perks of Being a Wallflower” understands that the messiest kitchens often produce the clearest truths. Yes, there are arguments about gravy versus sauce, and yes, the women treat the dining room like their own personal living rooms. But “Nonnas” isn’t really about the food. It’s about the people who make it.
Vaughn, who has spent years perfecting a certain kind of motor-mouth charm, grounds himself here. He plays Joe as a man who is genuinely listening for once, a lost soul who has the wisdom to know he needs a map. And what maps these women are. The film assembles a Mount Rushmore of no-nonsense screen legends: Lorraine Bracco, Talia Shire, Brenda Vaccaro, and Susan Sarandon. They are not here to be cute. They are here to be formidable. Watch the way Bracco eyes a newcomer’s oregano ratio, or the way Sarandon delivers a cutting remark about a competitor’s meatball with the casual precision of a surgeon. These are women who have lived, and their faces hold the history that Joe’s restaurant is trying to build.
Chbosky is smart enough to get out of their way. He lets the camera linger on the small moments: the steam fogging up the kitchen windows, the quiet clack of a wooden spoon against a pot, the way a silent nod from a matriarch can feel like a benediction. The film understands that grief is not something you solve; it’s something you cook through. Joe isn’t just honoring his mother; he’s trying to build a new family out of the ingredients he has left.
Does “Nonnas” follow a recipe we’ve seen before? Sure. The third act hits a few beats you can time with a pasta timer. But sincerity is its own rare spice, and this film has it in abundance. It’s a celebration of age in a culture that worships youth, a tribute to the idea that the older generation isn’t just fading away, but is still busy kneading the dough of our lives.
“Nonnas” won’t change the way you think about movies, but it might change the way you think about the people who made the meals of your childhood. It left me feeling full, a little misty, and with a powerful craving for spaghetti. It’s a reminder that the best way to honor the dead is to set a place for them at the table. (Neo, 2026)