Netflix’s Nonnas (2025) serves up a soulful, heartwarming blend of comedy and drama that’s as rich as the dishes at the center of its story. Inspired by a true tale, this film celebrates second chances, cultural heritage, and the kind of healing only a grandmother’s cooking can bring. Directed by Stephen Chbosky (Wonder, The Perks of Being a Wallflower) and led by Vince Vaughn, Nonnas is more than just a film—it’s a tribute to the power of tradition and the women who preserve it.
At the center of Nonnas is Joe Scaravella (Vince Vaughn), a Staten Island bachelor and MTA worker whose world is shaken by the back-to-back losses of his mother and grandmother. Lost in grief and monotony, Joe finds himself craving the one thing that always made life feel full: his family’s food. That longing sparks a wild idea—to open a restaurant that hires grandmothers from different parts of Italy to cook their traditional dishes.
That idea becomes Enoteca Maria, a charming eatery that slowly transforms Joe’s life and the lives of the nonnas who cook there. With every pasta dish, tiramisu, and roasted lamb, the restaurant becomes a safe haven—a place where healing, laughter, and rich stories unfold.
The casting is inspired: Lorraine Bracco shines as Roberta, a tough Sicilian who becomes Joe’s right hand in the kitchen. Talia Shire plays Teresa, a mysterious former nun whose quiet wisdom anchors the group. Brenda Vaccaro’s Antonella brings fire and flair, while Susan Sarandon’s Gia adds warmth and wit. Each grandmother is a whole story on her own, and together, they’re a vibrant, chaotic, lovable force.
Joe’s journey isn’t just about food—it’s about community. With support from his old classmate Olivia (Linda Cardellini), goofy best friend Bruno (Joe Manganiello), and a whole neighborhood that slowly rallies around him, Joe rediscovers purpose. The film beautifully captures what happens when we allow ourselves to be nourished—literally and emotionally—by people who care.
What makes Nonnas stand out isn’t just its sentimentality or humor. It’s the honesty. These are not flawless characters—they bicker, they burn sauce, they’re stubborn and sweet—but they feel real. You believe in their recipes because you believe in their stories. The film moves fluidly between laughter and poignancy, reminding us that healing often happens in unexpected places—like a cramped kitchen filled with chatter and steam.
Nonnas also doubles as an ode to immigration, resilience, and female power. These grandmothers have lived lives full of hardship, love, sacrifice, and triumph. Through their food, they pass down more than flavor—they offer identity and legacy. And through Joe’s journey, we’re reminded that it’s never too late to rewrite your story, especially if you’ve got the right people around your table.
In a world obsessed with fast everything, Nonnas slows us down. It asks us to sit, eat, share, and feel. Much like the best home-cooked meal, it lingers long after it’s over.
