‘Ella McCay’ review: The directorial return of James L. Brooks is too timid

Film fans like to lament: They don’t make them like they used to, specifically the kind of wry, life-affirming dramedies that director James L. Brooks perfected back in the 1980s and ’90s like “Terms of Endearment,” “Broadcast News” and “As Good as It Gets.” Movies of that tone and character are rare these days, so it’s worth noting when a new one comes along. But with Brooks’ latest, the deeply strange “Ella McCay,” he doesn’t make them like he used to either.

“Ella McCay” is a portrait of a lady on fire, from stress. The quirky, twitchy Ella (Emma Mackey, horrifically bewigged) is the youngest lieutenant governor in her unnamed state, an awkward policy wonk serving under her mentor, Gov. Bill Moore (Albert Brooks). When he’s tapped for the Cabinet, Ella gets the promotion that she craves, sworn in as the youngest female governor of her state, even as her family life descends into chaos. But Ella’s family life has always been chaotic, as we see in flashbacks to her teenage years, wherein our narrator describes how Ella experiences seeing other happy families — as a stab in the heart.

Our narrator is Estelle (Julie Kavner, best known as the voice of Marge Simpson), Ella’s secretary, who explains that she’s biased, claiming “I’m nuts about her.” The year, by the way, is 2008, “when we could still talk to each other.” So Brooks sets this political film in the recent past, giving a wide berth to the third rail that is MAGA. But by shrinking away from political hot buttons, he renders the whole gambit frustratingly vague and meaningless. Ella lives in the “state,” she runs afoul of the “party,” but skirting these details feels too timid. It’s clear that Ella’s politics are liberal, as she champions a bill designed to support parents and kids in early childhood (she tears up over “tooth tutors”). But why play coy with the specifics?

All Ella wants to do is run her policy meetings, but the men in her life keep getting in the way. First there’s her dad (Woody Harrelson), an inveterate philanderer who would like to make amends — in order to please his new girlfriend. Then there’s Ella’s agoraphobic brother (Spike Fearn), over whom she frets (the less said about his bizarrely tacked-on romantic entanglement with an ex-girlfriend played by Ayo Edebiri, the better). Then there’s her husband (Jack Lowden), a seemingly nice if cocky guy who suddenly starts to love the warmth of the spotlight as Ella ascends.

Again and again, Ella runs in circles trying to put out fires with these men without ever getting to her meetings or doing the job she claims she loves so much (and when she finally does get to her meeting, it’s a flop). The entire movie is about how men are always getting in the way of women’s work, but it’s not entirely clear that Brooks knows this is what his film is about, as Ella happily embarks on pointless side quests with her dad and brother and becomes embroiled in the tamest political sex scandal of all time. The real scandal here is why she entertains any of these losers at all.

It never feels like Brooks has a grasp on the material, which careens aimlessly through Ella’s harried day-to-day in a handsomely bland, serviceable style. The thread about Ella’s childhood trauma resulting from her parents’ messy relationship is lost — and was never that convincing to begin with. She has an unconventional family but her aunt Helen (Jamie Lee Curtis), who helped raise her, is a fierce protector and confidant. Their relationship is fun to watch, so why bother with all these men and their inane storylines? The only worthy one in Ella’s life is her designated security detail (Kumail Nanjiani). In another movie, they’d have a romance, some sexual tension or at least a heartfelt and wise conversation. Here, his character is denied any chance of that.

As we move from broken home to political scandal to another broken home, Ella finally realizes that a woman’s place is not in the capital, but rather in the nonprofit sector (not that she has much choice in the matter). What, exactly, is Brooks trying to say? We spend two hours watching men mess things up for Ella and then she just accepts it and moves on? Even if that message weren’t profoundly weird, dramatically it falls flat, despite Estelle trying to tie it up with a positive final message: “The opposite of trauma is hope.” Whatever that means. It’s apt that this closing phrase makes as much sense as the rest of the movie, which is to say, very little.

Film fans like to lament: They don’t make them like they used to, specifically the kind of wry, life-affirming dramedies that director James L. Brooks perfected back in the 1980s and ’90s like “Terms of Endearment,” “Broadcast News” and “As Good as It Gets.” Movies of that tone and character are rare these days, so it’s worth noting when a new one comes along. But with Brooks’ latest, the deeply strange “Ella McCay,” he doesn’t make them like he used to either.

“Ella McCay” is a portrait of a lady on fire, from stress. The quirky, twitchy Ella (Emma Mackey, horrifically bewigged) is the youngest lieutenant governor in her unnamed state, an awkward policy wonk serving under her mentor, Gov. Bill Moore (Albert Brooks). When he’s tapped for the Cabinet, Ella gets the promotion that she craves, sworn in as the youngest female governor of her state, even as her family life descends into chaos. But Ella’s family life has always been chaotic, as we see in flashbacks to her teenage years, wherein our narrator describes how Ella experiences seeing other happy families — as a stab in the heart.

Our narrator is Estelle (Julie Kavner, best known as the voice of Marge Simpson), Ella’s secretary, who explains that she’s biased, claiming “I’m nuts about her.” The year, by the way, is 2008, “when we could still talk to each other.” So Brooks sets this political film in the recent past, giving a wide berth to the third rail that is MAGA. But by shrinking away from political hot buttons, he renders the whole gambit frustratingly vague and meaningless. Ella lives in the “state,” she runs afoul of the “party,” but skirting these details feels too timid. It’s clear that Ella’s politics are liberal, as she champions a bill designed to support parents and kids in early childhood (she tears up over “tooth tutors”). But why play coy with the specifics?

All Ella wants to do is run her policy meetings, but the men in her life keep getting in the way. First there’s her dad (Woody Harrelson), an inveterate philanderer who would like to make amends — in order to please his new girlfriend. Then there’s Ella’s agoraphobic brother (Spike Fearn), over whom she frets (the less said about his bizarrely tacked-on romantic entanglement with an ex-girlfriend played by Ayo Edebiri, the better). Then there’s her husband (Jack Lowden), a seemingly nice if cocky guy who suddenly starts to love the warmth of the spotlight as Ella ascends.

Again and again, Ella runs in circles trying to put out fires with these men without ever getting to her meetings or doing the job she claims she loves so much (and when she finally does get to her meeting, it’s a flop). The entire movie is about how men are always getting in the way of women’s work, but it’s not entirely clear that Brooks knows this is what his film is about, as Ella happily embarks on pointless side quests with her dad and brother and becomes embroiled in the tamest political sex scandal of all time. The real scandal here is why she entertains any of these losers at all.

It never feels like Brooks has a grasp on the material, which careens aimlessly through Ella’s harried day-to-day in a handsomely bland, serviceable style. The thread about Ella’s childhood trauma resulting from her parents’ messy relationship is lost — and was never that convincing to begin with. She has an unconventional family but her aunt Helen (Jamie Lee Curtis), who helped raise her, is a fierce protector and confidant. Their relationship is fun to watch, so why bother with all these men and their inane storylines? The only worthy one in Ella’s life is her designated security detail (Kumail Nanjiani). In another movie, they’d have a romance, some sexual tension or at least a heartfelt and wise conversation. Here, his character is denied any chance of that.

As we move from broken home to political scandal to another broken home, Ella finally realizes that a woman’s place is not in the capital, but rather in the nonprofit sector (not that she has much choice in the matter). What, exactly, is Brooks trying to say? We spend two hours watching men mess things up for Ella and then she just accepts it and moves on? Even if that message weren’t profoundly weird, dramatically it falls flat, despite Estelle trying to tie it up with a positive final message: “The opposite of trauma is hope.” Whatever that means. It’s apt that this closing phrase makes as much sense as the rest of the movie, which is to say, very little.

Film fans like to lament: They don’t make them like they used to, specifically the kind of wry, life-affirming dramedies that director James L. Brooks perfected back in the 1980s and ’90s like “Terms of Endearment,” “Broadcast News” and “As Good as It Gets.” Movies of that tone and character are rare these days, so it’s worth noting when a new one comes along. But with Brooks’ latest, the deeply strange “Ella McCay,” he doesn’t make them like he used to either.

“Ella McCay” is a portrait of a lady on fire, from stress. The quirky, twitchy Ella (Emma Mackey, horrifically bewigged) is the youngest lieutenant governor in her unnamed state, an awkward policy wonk serving under her mentor, Gov. Bill Moore (Albert Brooks). When he’s tapped for the Cabinet, Ella gets the promotion that she craves, sworn in as the youngest female governor of her state, even as her family life descends into chaos. But Ella’s family life has always been chaotic, as we see in flashbacks to her teenage years, wherein our narrator describes how Ella experiences seeing other happy families — as a stab in the heart.

Our narrator is Estelle (Julie Kavner, best known as the voice of Marge Simpson), Ella’s secretary, who explains that she’s biased, claiming “I’m nuts about her.” The year, by the way, is 2008, “when we could still talk to each other.” So Brooks sets this political film in the recent past, giving a wide berth to the third rail that is MAGA. But by shrinking away from political hot buttons, he renders the whole gambit frustratingly vague and meaningless. Ella lives in the “state,” she runs afoul of the “party,” but skirting these details feels too timid. It’s clear that Ella’s politics are liberal, as she champions a bill designed to support parents and kids in early childhood (she tears up over “tooth tutors”). But why play coy with the specifics?

All Ella wants to do is run her policy meetings, but the men in her life keep getting in the way. First there’s her dad (Woody Harrelson), an inveterate philanderer who would like to make amends — in order to please his new girlfriend. Then there’s Ella’s agoraphobic brother (Spike Fearn), over whom she frets (the less said about his bizarrely tacked-on romantic entanglement with an ex-girlfriend played by Ayo Edebiri, the better). Then there’s her husband (Jack Lowden), a seemingly nice if cocky guy who suddenly starts to love the warmth of the spotlight as Ella ascends.

Again and again, Ella runs in circles trying to put out fires with these men without ever getting to her meetings or doing the job she claims she loves so much (and when she finally does get to her meeting, it’s a flop). The entire movie is about how men are always getting in the way of women’s work, but it’s not entirely clear that Brooks knows this is what his film is about, as Ella happily embarks on pointless side quests with her dad and brother and becomes embroiled in the tamest political sex scandal of all time. The real scandal here is why she entertains any of these losers at all.

It never feels like Brooks has a grasp on the material, which careens aimlessly through Ella’s harried day-to-day in a handsomely bland, serviceable style. The thread about Ella’s childhood trauma resulting from her parents’ messy relationship is lost — and was never that convincing to begin with. She has an unconventional family but her aunt Helen (Jamie Lee Curtis), who helped raise her, is a fierce protector and confidant. Their relationship is fun to watch, so why bother with all these men and their inane storylines? The only worthy one in Ella’s life is her designated security detail (Kumail Nanjiani). In another movie, they’d have a romance, some sexual tension or at least a heartfelt and wise conversation. Here, his character is denied any chance of that.

As we move from broken home to political scandal to another broken home, Ella finally realizes that a woman’s place is not in the capital, but rather in the nonprofit sector (not that she has much choice in the matter). What, exactly, is Brooks trying to say? We spend two hours watching men mess things up for Ella and then she just accepts it and moves on? Even if that message weren’t profoundly weird, dramatically it falls flat, despite Estelle trying to tie it up with a positive final message: “The opposite of trauma is hope.” Whatever that means. It’s apt that this closing phrase makes as much sense as the rest of the movie, which is to say, very little.

Film fans like to lament: They don’t make them like they used to, specifically the kind of wry, life-affirming dramedies that director James L. Brooks perfected back in the 1980s and ’90s like “Terms of Endearment,” “Broadcast News” and “As Good as It Gets.” Movies of that tone and character are rare these days, so it’s worth noting when a new one comes along. But with Brooks’ latest, the deeply strange “Ella McCay,” he doesn’t make them like he used to either.

“Ella McCay” is a portrait of a lady on fire, from stress. The quirky, twitchy Ella (Emma Mackey, horrifically bewigged) is the youngest lieutenant governor in her unnamed state, an awkward policy wonk serving under her mentor, Gov. Bill Moore (Albert Brooks). When he’s tapped for the Cabinet, Ella gets the promotion that she craves, sworn in as the youngest female governor of her state, even as her family life descends into chaos. But Ella’s family life has always been chaotic, as we see in flashbacks to her teenage years, wherein our narrator describes how Ella experiences seeing other happy families — as a stab in the heart.

Our narrator is Estelle (Julie Kavner, best known as the voice of Marge Simpson), Ella’s secretary, who explains that she’s biased, claiming “I’m nuts about her.” The year, by the way, is 2008, “when we could still talk to each other.” So Brooks sets this political film in the recent past, giving a wide berth to the third rail that is MAGA. But by shrinking away from political hot buttons, he renders the whole gambit frustratingly vague and meaningless. Ella lives in the “state,” she runs afoul of the “party,” but skirting these details feels too timid. It’s clear that Ella’s politics are liberal, as she champions a bill designed to support parents and kids in early childhood (she tears up over “tooth tutors”). But why play coy with the specifics?

All Ella wants to do is run her policy meetings, but the men in her life keep getting in the way. First there’s her dad (Woody Harrelson), an inveterate philanderer who would like to make amends — in order to please his new girlfriend. Then there’s Ella’s agoraphobic brother (Spike Fearn), over whom she frets (the less said about his bizarrely tacked-on romantic entanglement with an ex-girlfriend played by Ayo Edebiri, the better). Then there’s her husband (Jack Lowden), a seemingly nice if cocky guy who suddenly starts to love the warmth of the spotlight as Ella ascends.

Again and again, Ella runs in circles trying to put out fires with these men without ever getting to her meetings or doing the job she claims she loves so much (and when she finally does get to her meeting, it’s a flop). The entire movie is about how men are always getting in the way of women’s work, but it’s not entirely clear that Brooks knows this is what his film is about, as Ella happily embarks on pointless side quests with her dad and brother and becomes embroiled in the tamest political sex scandal of all time. The real scandal here is why she entertains any of these losers at all.

It never feels like Brooks has a grasp on the material, which careens aimlessly through Ella’s harried day-to-day in a handsomely bland, serviceable style. The thread about Ella’s childhood trauma resulting from her parents’ messy relationship is lost — and was never that convincing to begin with. She has an unconventional family but her aunt Helen (Jamie Lee Curtis), who helped raise her, is a fierce protector and confidant. Their relationship is fun to watch, so why bother with all these men and their inane storylines? The only worthy one in Ella’s life is her designated security detail (Kumail Nanjiani). In another movie, they’d have a romance, some sexual tension or at least a heartfelt and wise conversation. Here, his character is denied any chance of that.

As we move from broken home to political scandal to another broken home, Ella finally realizes that a woman’s place is not in the capital, but rather in the nonprofit sector (not that she has much choice in the matter). What, exactly, is Brooks trying to say? We spend two hours watching men mess things up for Ella and then she just accepts it and moves on? Even if that message weren’t profoundly weird, dramatically it falls flat, despite Estelle trying to tie it up with a positive final message: “The opposite of trauma is hope.” Whatever that means. It’s apt that this closing phrase makes as much sense as the rest of the movie, which is to say, very little.