A Little Prayer Review: A Gentle Southern Family Story

      Note: This review was initially published as part of our coverage of the 2023 Sundance Film Festival. A Little Prayer is set to hit theaters on August 29, 2025.

      In the tranquil and serene mornings that transition into writer-director Angus MacLachlan’s A Little Prayer, a woman passionately sings gospel songs that resonate throughout the neighborhood. For many waking up in this small town in North Carolina, it is a bleary-eyed annoyance, but Bill Brass (David Strathairn) and his daughter-in-law Tammy (Jane Levy) are both intrigued, rising early filled with curiosity and wonder. Why does she sing those songs? Where do they originate? The pair ultimately venture out to seek the source, but as the spirituals fade into the background, leaving them in a tranquil silence filled with bird songs, they seem to delight in the enigmatic beauty of their discovery.

      This unique connection propels the film's essence like a gentle breeze, providing comfort and grounding as Bill, a Vietnam veteran, navigates his family’s dysfunction and reflects on his past as a parent. Similar to Junebug, MacLachlan’s feature writing debut that premiered at Sundance and launched Amy Adams' career, this current work offers Levy a comparable opportunity to shine in a modest domestic narrative. However, the film truly centers around Straithairn, whose gentle demeanor and seasoned wisdom continue the legacy of older actors—from Henry Fonda in On Golden Pond to Brian Dennehy in Driveways—who are confronting their roles and regrets as patriarchs, all hoping they haven't missed the chance to make a meaningful impact.

      Set against the lush backdrops of Winston-Salem, this picturesque home is starting to show signs of strain. Bill has just learned that his son, David (Will Pullen), is having an affair with his secretary, Narcedalia (Dascha Polanco), at the steel mill that Bill owns. The worried father insists that his son “straighten up and fly right” when David returns drunk to the backyard guest house that Bill and his wife, Venida (Celia Weston), had built for him and Tammy. Simultaneously, Bill’s tumultuous daughter Patty (Anna Camp) unexpectedly arrives with her daughter (Billie Roy) to escape her husband’s questionable dealings, bringing her loud, immature behavior back into the household.

      Tammy serves as a calming influence amidst this chaos, preparing lunch for Bill and David each morning, caring for Patty’s daughter, and easing Venida’s burden of household tasks and errands. With her southern accent and politeness, Levy’s understated charm shines in these selfless moments, and her kind demeanor (despite her claims of having a darker, more complicated side) aligns with Bill and Venida’s more traditional and conservative values, resistant to change and their children’s recent marital troubles. MacLachlan empathizes with their incredulity, fatigue, and eventual overreach, but at their age, they’ve lost their sharper moral clarity and must learn to view their children as adult-like individuals—recognizing them as autonomous, responsible for their own choices, even if they don’t always demonstrate this.

      It’s rare to find sensitive films like this. MacLachlan avoids conventional climactic resolutions and one-dimensional performances. He discovers humor in quirks and familiar family interactions, yet is hesitant to reveal too much behind the scenes—for instance, the difficult conversations between Tammy and David, who struggles with PTSD, moments that a director like Jason Reitman might readily showcase. As Bill attempts to address his son’s deceit, Polanco, the sole non-white character, is given her opportunity to voice her perspective in a dialogue that doesn't devolve into hysteria or draw easy divides. One might envision a film from two decades past dismissing her character, instead giving Bill a patronizing speech and a redemptive arc. Strathairn, however, exhibits a passionate restraint, feeling perplexed and adrift in his quest for answers he will never obtain.

      Many “Sundance movies” earn the festival’s pejorative label because they often rely on contrived emotions, manufacturing tears and excessive sentimentality in a calculated manner. They pinpoint the narrative beats and maximize emotional impact accordingly. MacLachlan does not conform to such conventions. In the poignant closing scene between Bill and Tammy, Strathairn does not strive for emotional highs, nor is Levy competing for dramatic recognition. MacLachlan has instead crafted a series of flaws and intimate moments that culminate in their first sincere, open conversation. Much like the film itself, it is a true gift.

      A Little Prayer premiered at the Sundance Film Festival in 2023.