The Little Hours //free\\
The core brilliance of The Little Hours lies in its tonal dissonance. It is a film that is at once a medieval period drama and a modern, R-rated hangout movie. The dialogue, while set against a backdrop of rustic beauty and religious iconography, is pure contemporary vulgarity. Aubrey Plaza’s Sister Fernanda delivers lines like “I’m going to fuck you up with witchcraft!” with the same fervent rage as a character from Parks and Recreation .
If the script is the skeleton of The Little Hours , the cast is undoubtedly its beating heart. The film functions as a who’s-who of the "alternative" comedy scene, drawing talent from the Upright Citizens Brigade, Parks and Recreation , and Community .
The film stands as a singular achievement: a medieval nun comedy that is filthy, hilarious, surprisingly thoughtful about faith and repression, and deeply humane in its portrayal of flawed, desperate women. It takes a dusty literary classic and transforms it into a rowdy, foul-mouthed party that respects its source material’s core themes while gleefully trashing its solemnity. The Little Hours is not for the prudish or the pious, but for anyone who appreciates the anarchic joy of watching sacred cows being led to a very profane slaughter. The Little Hours
We meet Sister Fernanda (Aubrey Plaza), Sister Alessandra (Alison Brie), and Sister Ginevra (Kate Micucci). They are not holy. They are bored. They gossip viciously, practice witchcraft, poison a teenage boy for calling them ugly, and openly despise their new convent leader, Sister Mafia (Molly Shannon).
This creative choice serves a dual purpose. First, it makes the comedy accessible and immediate. Second, it subtly underscores the universality of human emotion. The frustration of a woman stuck in a life she didn't choose, the confusion of sexual awakening, and the pettiness of small-community politics are just as relevant in 1348 as they are in 2017. The film suggests that underneath the habits and history, people haven't really changed. The core brilliance of The Little Hours lies
The story is set in motion when the convent’s handsome, young, and perpetually terrified handyman, Massetto (Dave Franco), is forced to flee after being caught in an affair with the powerful Lord Bruno’s (Nick Offerman) wife. Seeking refuge, Massetto ends up at the convent, where a friendly local priest, Father Tommasso (John C. Reilly in a dual role as both Mother Superior and the priest—a deliberate, absurdist choice), suggests he hide there by pretending to be a deaf-mute gardener named “Brother Alexander.” The logic, as Father Tommasso explains, is that a deaf-mute can neither hear the nuns’ confessions nor gossip about them, posing no threat to their vows of chastity.
The film’s success rests entirely on its perfectly calibrated ensemble cast, who commit fully to the absurd premise. The film stands as a singular achievement: a
The plot thickens when Massetto (Dave Franco), a young servant, flees his master after being caught in a compromising position with the master’s wife. To escape death, he disguises himself as a deaf-mute and seeks refuge at the convent. The Mother Superior (Molly Shannon) agrees to take him in as a gardener, believing his disability will prevent the sort of temptation that usually spells trouble for the sisters. She is, of course, spectacularly wrong.
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