Flasz On Film

Synopsis: Thrust unexpectedly into the governor’s office, an ambitious but unpopular lieutenant governor must navigate party hostility, a tabloid scandal, and the collapse of her marriage while trying to pass a bill aimed at supporting new and expectant mothers. As betrayals mount—from her husband, her party, and her estranged father—she gambles her political future to force reform through a cynical system.

After fifteen years of directorial inactivity following the release of How Do You Know, James L. Brooks has decided to come out of hiding at the ripe age of eighty-five and lavish the world with Ella McCay, a movie nobody should go out and see… …is what I would have said if I had gone to the cinema to watch it all by myself.

However, I chose to head out to see Brooks’s newest exploit accompanied by my lovely wife. Who absolutely adored this movie while I sat there with my head in my hands trying to parse what was happening. Granted, she is a highly reactive movie watcher, which means that she laughs uproariously at moments she finds funny, gets emotional when things get sad and looks away when stuff gets too intense. She’s the kind of viewer filmmakers wish theaters were filled to the brim with, but you kinda need to get used to her energy levels and earnestly authentic responses to the movie playing out in front of her.

So, all I can say is that if you are thinking about going to see Ella McCay, you should have a think about who you are as a person, and what your taste in movies actually is. Or better yet—whether Netflix or any other streaming algorithm would organically recommend to you such works as Are You There God? It’s Me, Margaret (directed by Brooks’s de facto protégé Kelly Fremon Craig), Steel Magnolias, The First Wives Club, Terms of Endearment, Hope Springs, As Good as It Gets and stuff like that. If none of these excite you in any measurable capacity, then chances are that, like me, you’ll be sitting there contemplating what sins you might have committed that have resulted in this two-hour penance session involving watching schmaltzy and saccharine filmmaking where a young professional woman (played by Emma Mackey aka brown-eyed Margot Robbie lookalike), her aunt played by Jamie Lee Curtis and a bunch of other people like Kumail Nanjiani, Jack Lowden, Woody Harrelson, Rebecca Hall and Albert Brooks, all attempt not to trip over James L. Brooks’s screenwriting and directorial darlings generously covering the entire movie. Ella McCay will be torturous for you. Maybe completely unwatchable even. You will not be able to look past the man’s signature brand of jeepers-creepers earnestness where violins swell every three minutes for no good reason and where people talk like characters written by someone who desperately wants to recapture the Larry McMurtry-esque vibe that endeared audiences three or four decades ago.

If, however, the kind of kitschy, schmaltzy and earnest romantic dramedy about people finding themselves, leaving toxic relationships and finding inner peace that looks strikingly as though it was adapted from a paperback that Oprah recommended to her viewers fifteen years ago is your jam, then be my guest. At least on this occasion I can’t honestly pretend that Ella McCay isn’t for anyone because I was sitting next to someone who had a blast watching it. Therefore, there must be a demographic of emotionally-attuned (probably female) viewers who will hoot and holler at Julie Kavner’s antics and Jamie Lee Curtis’s outbursts while also waving their fists in wholehearted disapproval at the scumbaggery displayed by Woody Harrelson’s character.

Nevertheless, objectively speaking, Ella McCay is very much a rehash of what James L. Brooks used to put in movies back in the day. It’s a safe and overtly sweet exercise in manipulative feel-good storytelling with a small-yet-not-insignificant tear-jerking component that is wholly reliant on its manufactured plotting and conveniences strung together in service of base emotional modulation. If anything, the movie heavily leans on its familiar dynamics between Emma Mackey and Jamie Lee Curtis, which is probably the only measurable highlight of the experience next to the short but sweet appearance from Ayo Edebiri towards the end of the film.

The rest, as far as I could tell, could go and if it had been up to me, I’d have tried my level best to dissuade James L. Brooks from coming out of retirement to make exactly more of what I was already sick and tired of years ago. But then again, I’d have deprived my wife of a good time at the movies so I don’t know what to tell you.