Courtney Howard // Film Critic
ELLA MCCAY
Rated PG-13, 1 hour and 55 minutes
Directed by: James L. Brooks
Starring: Emma Mackey, Jamie Lee Curtis, Julie Kavner, Albert Brooks, Spike Fearn, Ayo Edebiri, Jack Lowden, Woody Harrelson, Kumail Nanjiani, Rebecca Hall, Becky Ann Baker, Joey Brooks
After a long 15 year absence from the director’s chair, James L. Brooks returns to the adult drama milieu that made him an acclaimed household name, writing and helming ELLA MCCAY. Unfortunately, the results are less than satisfactory for everyone involved, including the audience. Ingénue Emma Mackey slaps on a hate crime of a brown wig to star in this period piece exploring the haphazard personal politics of families, fantasies and fidelity through the lens of its plucky protagonist. The exceptional ensemble is tasked to finesse unfocused, subpar material, where sequences often negate each others’ importance and sentiments. A misguided sense of faux feminism, undercooked and contrived conflicts, and poorly drawn characters prevail in this shockingly sloppy feature.
Our practically hand-held journey comes courtesy of Estelle (Julie Kavner), who pulls double duty as the craggy-voiced narrator and crackling secretarial devotee of young, wide-eyed politician Ella McCay (Mackey). She’s like the mortar to the narrative’s unsubtle bricklaying. It’s 2008, during the great recession (decidedly before the United States’ truly tumultuous political upheaval), where we meet the 34-year-old eponymous heroine serving as Lieutenant Governor under the watchful eye of her idol Governor Bill Moore (Albert Brooks). In what state this takes place, we’ll never know (though Rhode Island is credited as the filming location). The most unintentionally hilarious part about the movie is how Brooks and company take great pains to not disclose which state Ella serves, nor the definitive political parties these government officials represent. It only offers an emphatic, “Yes! Politics!” until it chooses later to punish Ella for daring to dream big.
On the same day Ella learns she’s ascending the official ranks to Governor, she’s also informed that there’s a scandal brewing over the fact she and her dutiful, dopey hubby Ryan (Jack Lowden) used the hallowed capital’s private bedroom for sex during her lunch breaks. How unabashedly tame and wholesome that is – and yet no one in the film acknowledges this as such despite its post-Bill Clinton, post-Gary Hart era setting. But, you know, shame on Ella for not taking care of her marital relations on her own free time.
If that’s not enough stress, her deadbeat, philandering father Eddie (Woody Harrelson) shows up with a new, obnoxious fiancé, demanding Ella forgive him for abandoning her and perpetually cheating on her long-suffering mom (Rebecca Hall, who’s primarily there to look sad in two brief scenes and then instantly be killed off). Ella’s overbearing Aunt Helen (Jamie Lee Curtis) is, of course, suspicious of her lousy brother’s actions, but stands by her niece no matter what. Ella seeks sibling comradery with her estranged younger brother Casey (Spike Fearn), but he’s dealing with problems of his own, being lovelorn, agoraphobic (the flippant handling of this mental disorder is insulting, earning scoffs galore) and running an illegal gambling operation online.
Brooks clearly set out to make a lighthearted screwball comedy set in a more optimistic time before mayhem broke loose in this country. While that’s admirable, the filmmaker fumbles spectacularly within minutes, setting up irredeemable, insufferable archetypes who lack genuine character and conviction. Mackey playing Ella at 16 is a choice. PEN15, this isn’t. Every character is one-dimensional, made rudderless by a weak script and dreadfully leaden scenarios in which to perform their heavily orchestrated neurosis dumps. We constantly wait for these folks to have epiphanies; however, those never arrive. Character arcs are either abandoned (like the situation surrounding Eddie) or concluded with resolutions that aren’t the least bit compelling nor clever. It’s extremely difficult to empathize with any of their struggles as there’s no depth or dimension to connect with on any emotional level.
With the exception of Ella’s puppy-dog-eyed bodyguard Trooper Nash (Kumail Nanjiani), every male character exists solely to upend her world, causing her to suffer career disillusionment. It’s as if this film is regurgitating an incredibly tired, regressive sentiment that women really can’t have it all. Her mentor advises her to quit. Her husband turns on her for flimsy reasons, transforming overnight into a liar and an albatross around her neck. Her father is a terminally aggressive narcissist. Her brother embodies a quietly insidious toxic masculinity. Plus, there’s an odd tertiary C-story involving her opportunist bully/ monstrous mother-in-law (Becky Ann Baker) that stands out like a sore thumb tonally, leading to further fractures in what little narrative momentum is there at the halfway point.
Comedic shenanigans involving Casey fail to tickle our funny bone. The hijinks that ensue are not at all charming, especially his trope-riddled grand gesture to win back his awkward ex-girlfriend Susan (Ayo Edebiri), whom he essentially holds hostage in her apartment. Ella’s sitcom-inspired swig of THC-laced lemonade and fistful of pot-laced brownies don’t lead to any big revelations on her part. The gag only ironically reveals that Brooks couldn’t think of anything creatively uproarious to occur while she’s hiding out in her brother’s flophouse apartment. At least give us a ribbon-cutting ceremony where she pretends to be sober, but is super high and slap-happily paranoid and that wins over her constituents. Instead, we’re served an exhausting monologue by her and heated argument between Nash and overzealous security member Alexander (Joey “son of James” Brooks), eating up screen time and testing our patience.
While composer Hans Zimmer and cinematographer Robert Elswit’s work surprisingly fades into the background, casting director Francine Maisler brought her A-game to the proceedings, assembling a wonderfully textured, talented cadre of actors. The troupe do what they can with the incredibly limiting material. Mackey is radiant, showing glimmers of gumption and sparkle. Costume designer Ann Roth assuredly thought about the character construction with each and every stitch – seemingly more than Brooks did with the script – sewing backstory into the film’s fabric. The clothing tells the story of real, lived experience, weaving together tiny details in each piece to seamlessly inform the characters.
Septuagenarian and octogenarian auteurs like Ridley Scott, Clint Eastwood, Martin Scorsese, Michael Mann, Steven Spielberg, James Cameron and Lasse Hallström have all recently demonstrated that their voices, insight and craftsmanship are still incredibly vital, proving to us they still have the sauce. Disappointingly, Brooks could not deliver the goods at any point with ELLA MCCAY. Even his last creative misstep, HOW DO YOU KNOW, at the very least gave us Paul Rudd singing a hilarious, drunken rendition of Teddy Pendergrass’ “Turn Off The Lights.” We aren’t afforded much that’s equally indelible here. I just hope he doesn’t end his directorial efforts with this particular picture, as it’s a helluva sour note to go out on.
Grade: F
ELLA MCCAY opens on December 12.
