‘Chronicles of a Wandering Saint’ Review: Are the Meek Blessed?

“How do I know if something is a miracle?” This is the question that Rita (Mónica Villa), a 60-something Catholic woman living in rural Argentina, poses to a search engine — though deep down, she already knows the answer. A statue that Rita found while tending to her duties as the local chapel keeper isn’t the long-lost figure of St. Rita. But it’d be a miracle if it were, and miracles mean glory, attention and prestige in her small town.

Rita’s simple life — scrubbing pews, tolerating the pretenses of other church volunteers, coming home to her spacey but loyal husband, Norberto (Horacio Marassi) — could use a bit of magic. Yet this desire, and her willingness to bend the truth to achieve it, herald disaster.

Directed by Tomás Gómez Bustillo, “Chronicles of a Wandering Saint” begins as a slow-moving scammer comedy. Halfway through, the film receives a jolt, and Rita’s drab surroundings take on an enchanted quality that places the film within the robust tradition of Latin American magical realism.

The visually elegant film can also be overly precious and whimsical, though that might be a virtue by some measures. In this regard it shares DNA with the laconic comedies of Aki Kaurismaki. The superior second half, in which Rita’s reality is upended, eases into a realm of fantasy that is admirable — and more effective — because of its uncanny, inventive minimalism.

That miracles happen under the most banal circumstances is a bit of a cliché, but the film tackles this conceit with the kind of originality and intelligence that makes you forget there’s a blueprint in the first place.

Chronicles of a Wandering Saint
Not rated. In Spanish, with subtitles. Running time: 1 hour 24 minutes. In theaters.