Nonnas Movie Review: Stirring Hearts & Sauce

In Netflix’s formulaic yet flavorful Nonnas, a grieving restaurant owner hires Italian grandmothers as chefs, showcasing food’s healing power.

Boasting a soft-hearted setup, a few winking laughs, and the kind of cozy predictability you could take your mom, dad, and grandparents to without mentally preparing for a cringe-filled car ride home, Nonnas, the new Netflix exclusive from director Stephen Chbosky, transported me back to that feeling. It’s warm. It’s charming. It’s utterly unsurprising. And yet, it works like a charm.

As streaming platforms vie for attention with increasingly edgy content, Netflix has cooked up a refreshing throwback that will remind you of family-centered comedies like My Big Fat Greek Wedding and Chef. Nonnas is based on the real-life story of Joe Scaravella (Vince Vaughn, Freaky), a Staten Island man still mourning the recent loss of his mother. As her longtime caregiver, he is left adrift about what to do next. Then, he has an idea that changes everything. In her honor, he decides to put his grief, and her life savings, into a risky dream: opening Enoteca Maria.

The Italian restaurant puts local grandmothers (nonnas) in charge of the kitchen, bringing their traditions to a new generation of foodies and keeping his mother’s recipes close to his heart in the process. What begins as a tribute to his mom becomes a second act for him and a rotating roster of spirited women in the neighborhood who find a new sense of purpose behind the stove. It all could easily have been played for cheap laughs or schmaltzy tears. Instead, we get something much rarer: a story that respects both grief and joy as necessary companions on the journey back to life. You’ll see the ending coming from across the Brooklyn Bridge, but that’s part of its effectiveness. Not every story needs a surprise. Sometimes you just want it told right.

Often cast as the fast-talking guy with a smirk, Vaughn strips that away to deliver his most vulnerable and sincere performance in years. As Joe, he’s quieter and more worn in, the palpable melancholy all over his sleeves. It’s less about the big emotional swings available to the actor in Liz Maccie’s script but rather the slow work of healing that’s devoid of ironic cynicism. His scenes with childhood crush Olivia (Linda Cardellini, Nutcrackers) are sneakily tender. There’s no flash to the romance, just two people reconnecting and figuring out how to be there for one another again.

Of course, the vibrant heart of the film is our titular stars: the nonnas themselves. The ensemble of award-winning actresses playing the culinary matriarchs are terrific individually and together. Lorraine Bracco (Goodfellas) plays Roberta, a tough, no-nonsense Sicilian who reluctantly leaves her retirement home only to become freshly motivated beyond the brown walls and endless games of bridge. Her kitchen rivalry with Brenda Vaccaro (Once Upon a Time in Hollywood) as Bologna-born Antonella provides the film’s best moments that never devolve into caricature. As a former nun whose religious devotion has found new expression in feeding others, Talia Shire (Megalopolis) is reserved but sweet as she explores her secular life through her love of cooking. And then there’s Susan Sarandon (Blue Beetle) as Gia, with her flame-red hair and confidence in the kitchen, which hides a painful past she’s not quite ready to open up about.

I found a lot of value in the film treating these women with respect, permitting them to exist as human beings and not as punchlines. Unlike recent comedies that rely on the “isn’t it funny when older women curse a blue streak” routines, Nonnas gives its actresses dignity, texture, and moments to stand out. The conflicts are small-scale but feel genuine, and in an industry that regularly relegates actresses over sixty to sassy grandmas or bitter spinsters, the comedy in Nonnas comes from who they are, not how old they are.

Chbosky, best known for The Perks of Being a Wallflower and the less-than-perky big screen adaptation of Dear Evan Hansen, is back on steady footing again. Married to Maccie, he understands that sometimes the most potent choice is simply stepping back and letting moments breathe. It’s a restrained piece, gently guided forward, and that control pays off. Even when the third act flirts with formula by introducing Campbell Scott’s grumpy food critic and a make-or-break review, there’s enough sincerity built into its structure to carry it through.

And oh, the food. I nearly had to pause the movie during certain food scenes, and not just because my stomach was growling (it was), but because cinematographer Florian Ballhaus’ shoots it like it’s sacred. Sunday gravy simmering in cast-iron pots, delicate pastries dusted with powdered sugar and sprinkles, golden fresh-made plates of pasta, bubbling cheese; every dish is lovingly captured with deserved reverence. One particularly memorable sequence featuring the controversial Capuzzelle (better left as a discovery for viewers) manages to be both hilarious and oddly moving. Word to the wise: don’t start this one on an empty stomach.

What distinguishes Nonnas from purely comfort food cinema is its exploration of how we honor those we’ve lost. The movie is full of people who feel like someone you know. Maybe someone you miss. Scaravella’s restaurant isn’t just Italian fare now; it features grandmothers from diverse backgrounds across the globe sharing their traditional recipes, and the film gently underscores how food transcends language and cultural barriers. As someone who learned to cook from grandmothers who measured nothing and remembered everything, the movie hit close.

Nonnas celebrates what brings us together in a world increasingly defined by what divides us. Will it change cinema forever? No, but maybe that’s what makes it so special. Without aiming to reinvent or impress, it can offer nourishment and connection, with the bonus of reminding us that sometimes the best gift we can give someone is a seat at the table. And that’s worth savoring.

Nonnas will be available to globally on Netflix on May 9, 2025.