Directed by Nat Boltt

Written by Nat Boltt and Joy Cowley

Review by Dominic Corr

There is an indisputable warmth radiating from the screen in Holy Days, even when its underlying engine is powered almost entirely by sugary nostalgia and well-worn genre tropes. Adapted from Joy Cowley’s novel by actor-turned-director Nat Boltt, this New Zealand-set road comedy gathers a truly formidable acting triumvirate—Jacki Weaver, Judy Davis, and Miriam Margolyes—and sets them loose on a cross-country mission to rescue their decaying convent from predatory developers.

The setup is classic feel-good territory: three fiercely independent nuns pilfer a vehicle and hit the open road, taking along young Brian (a magnetic Elijah Tamati), a grieving local lad processing the loss of his mother while resisting his father’s (Craig Hall) new relationship with Boltt’s own character. The resulting intergenerational chemistry provides the picture with its beating heart. Young Tamati is a genuine revelation, bringing an unvarnished emotional depth to his character’s heartbreak that grounds the narrative far better than the screenplay’s contrived plot points deserve. Watching him bounce off screen icons like Davis (Sister Agnes), Weaver (Sister Mary Clare), and Margolyes (Sister Luke) offers immense charm, particularly when the legendary trio fully embrace the story’s unashamedly silly frequency.

Visually, the film finds its greatest asset in its stunning backdrops. The cinematography capitalises on New Zealand’s sweeping, picturesque landscapes, wrapping the journey in golden, sun-dappled textures that offer a striking contrast to the drab, decaying confines of the initial convent setting. Yet, for all the luminous visual framing, Boltt’s script frequently reaches for the lowest-hanging comedic fruit. The humor leans heavily on the assumption that elderly nuns engaging in mildly rebellious acts – sneaking cigarettes, losing dentures, or relying on bodily function punchlines – is inherently hilarious. And it can be, but thanks to this stellar cast, more so than the writing.

When the narrative attempts to balance these broad, cartoonish gags with deeper thematic weight concerning aging, cultural loss, or profound grief, the tonal lurch feels jarring. A late-stage dramatic climax during a snowstorm lacks the requisite narrative foundation, and an obligatory, feel-good dance number feels strictly dictated by genre formula.

It is ultimately the sheer commitment of its ensemble that rescues the feature from complete sentimentality. Seeing heavyweights like Davis, Weaver, and Margolyes play off Jonny Brugh’s shady priest and John Bach’s self-serving bishop delivers enough genuine sparks to keep the journey pleasant. Holy Days may follow a completely predictable map, but its breathtaking scenery and sparkling cast ensure the trip remains a lighthearted, charming diversion.

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