Given how prolific James L. Brooks has been as a filmmaker across his career, one would feel safe in entering a production of his with a relative sense of ease. Across the 80s and 90s, whether it was as a writer and director (Terms of Endearment, As Good As It Gets) or producer (Big, Jerry Maguire), he was, in many ways, untouchable.
Whether it was his own age or a shifting audience, his 2000/2010 offerings failed to connect as strongly, with the Adam Sandler-led Spanglish and the star-studded How Do You Know (which, to this day, is still the final acting role of Jack Nicholson) both seriously underperforming; How Do You Know was in fact so much of a glib misfire that it took Brooks 15 years to return with a feature.
Given the time since and, again, the line-up of impressive talent he has assembled – Emma Mackey, Jamie Lee Curtis, Woody Harrelson, Kumail Nanjiani, and Ayo Edebiri, to name a few – Ella McCay has something of a weight on its neurotic lead character’s shoulders. Sadly, however, Brooks hasn’t fine-tuned any of the uneven ingredients that plagued his last features, with this supposed comedy of a political nature proving wildly unfunny, tonally bizarre, and performed in a manner that never once feels natural.
At 115 minutes it’s also far too long for a story that hones no sense of naturality, cohesion or purpose. Said story – if you can understand the basic gist – centres around the titular character (Mackey, trying her hardest, but ultimately delivering a performance of inexplicable decisions), who, in 2008, at 34-years-old becomes the youngest Governor of the film’s unnamed state when her mentor, the incumbent governor (Albert Brooks‘ affectionately named “Governor Bill”), accepts a cabinet position in the forthcoming Obama administration.
The film’s official plot outline describes Ella McCay as being about its lead juggling her family and work life in a comedy about the people you love and how to survive them. And whilst that is somewhat technically true in that Ella does indeed juggle her family (Curtis as he boisterous aunt, Harrelson as her absent father, Spike Fearn as her agoraphobic younger brother) and her increased work as an impending governor, whilst trying to survive her husband (Jack Lowden), who becomes the story’s insufferable antagonist without so much as a warning, it’s all done in such a messy, nonsensical manner that you’ll fail to muster a single care about characters who have very few endearing qualities.
Perhaps on paper the character of Ella felt rich and complicated, and for a rising talent like Mackey there’s an appeal in headlining a James L. Brooks dramedy, but whatever decisions Brooks made in guiding her character’s quirks has only undone any of Mackey’s dedication. Curtis gets to chew the scenery as the story’s sole comic relief and exposition-sprouter (for what it’s worth, she was the only character who managed to garner laughs from the unnervingly quiet screening), so it makes sense as to why she’d sign on, but Harrelson, Nanjiani and Edebiri fail to earn characters worthy of their efforts; they’re all also separately involved in their own B-plots that either remain unresolved or prove frustratingly overlooked.
Honestly, this is such a clusterfuck of a movie. It feels overstuffed and undercooked at once, with no clear intention of purpose or audience target. It’s a real shame, too, as it could have proved wonderful counterprogramming for the bigger titles in the theatres (or its direct opening day competition, Silent Night, Deadly Night), enticing the older crowd who still seem to be the hardest market to cater for theatrically. Don’t let all the names on the promotional material lull you into a false sense of security, Ella McCay is someone you should stay far away from.
ONE STAR (OUT OF FIVE)
Ella McCay is now screening in Australian theatres, before opening in the United States on December 12th.
