Ella McCay

by Mike McGranaghan

Ella McCay is James L. Brooks’ first film in 15 years. His last, 2010’s Reese Witherspoon-starring How Do You Know, was a critical and commercial bust. Was he licking his wounds during the intervening time, or just lacking in inspiration? Hard to say, but this latest effort definitely feels like the product of its auteur, which, ironically, is both its strongest and weakest points.

Brooks seems to be aiming for Broadcast News in politics rather than television. Emma Mackey plays the title character, a woman who becomes California’s interim governor after her boss (Albert Brooks) snags a cabinet position. Just as her professional career starts to take off, Ella’s personal life falls apart. Estranged father Eddie (Woody Harrelson) suddenly wants to make amends. Younger brother Casey (Spike Fearn) exhibits concerning shut-in behaviors. Husband Ryan (Jack Lowden) inflames a minor scandal that gets the press circling. The only person she can truly count on for support is her feisty aunt Helen (Jamie Lee Curtis).

Terms of Endearment, Broadcast News, and As Good As It Gets were all Oscar-nominated movies, the first two in the ‘80s and the last in ’97. Collectively, they established Brooks as massively skilled at finding humor and drama in the lives of his characters. A strong sense of humanity permeates those stories, allowing them to resonate strongly with audiences to this day. They're dialogue-driven, too. You have to listen to his movies as much as watch them.

The style hasn’t changed, making Ella McCay feel like an ‘80s/’90s throwback. In other words, it’s perhaps helplessly old-fashioned. There are no concessions toward modern-day filmmaking or storytelling trends. That may rub some people the wrong way. As a longtime fan of its maker, I found that quality appealing. The screenplay is filled with sharp zingers, and the twisted relationships Ella has with the people in her personal and professional lives are genuinely interesting.

Where the picture comes up short is in being overstuffed. Time is wasted on subplots that don’t directly impact Ella and are therefore irrelevant. We don’t care about Casey’s efforts to win back his ex-girlfriend (played by the always delightful Ayo Edebiri), the bickering about overtime pay between two cops (Kumail Nanjiani and Joey Brooks), or the efforts of Ryan’s scheming mother (Becky Ann Baker) to advance her son’s career.

That time could have been better spent on the arcs that are worth caring about. Mackey gives a lively, charming performance as Ella. She works up funny chemistry with Curtis (who continues her recent career hot streak). Her scenes with Harrelson have emotional depth, as Eddie’s longtime womanizing took a toll on Ella’s adolescence, leading to ongoing resentment. Mackey and Albert Brooks share a few poignant scenes that delve into the frustrating nature of politics. When sticking with these aspects, the film is old-school pleasurable. When not, it feels contrived.

Very few directors are making movies like this anymore, so Ella McCay will hold a certain amount of appeal for viewers who like adult-oriented fare of the sort James L. Brooks popularized. But in the attempt to revive his trademark form of dramedy, Brooks loses focus, leading a generally pleasant tale to intermittently go off on useless tangents.

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