It’s been 15years since filmmaker and TV legend James LBrooks last attempted to make aromantic comedy. The memory of 2010’sHow Do You Know – afilm that stumbled both critically and commercially – disappeared without atrace. So when the trailer for his new film,Ella McCay, appeared, announcing his return to the fray after aprolonged absence, anticipation came mixed withdoubt.
Emma Mackey, who made aname for herself on small screen hit,Sex Education, leads as anewly-elected state governor, an ambitious politician whose rapid rise is complicated by various personal dramas. In her orbit is auseless husband (Jack Lowden), adeadbeat father (Woody Harrelson), afiercely protective aunt (Jamie Lee Curtis) and alost brother (Spike Fearn). Mackey anchors the film with understated steadiness, though she is occasionally upstaged by Curtis’ hilarious quips and Harrelson’s shambling charisma.
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Other familiar faces include Ayo Edebiri, Kumail Nanjiani, and Julie Kavner – her unmistakable Marge Simpson cadences anod to the Brooks-built universe humming beneath. Their presence is largely decorative, highlighting the film’s tendency to lean on charm where substance thins.
At first glance,Ella McCay looks like the kind of mid-budget studio dramedy that Hollywood stopped making years ago. It carries the promise of old-fashioned charm, and for astretch, that’s enough. The performances are lively, the pacing steady, and the plot unfolds with ease, suggestive of adirector who still knows how to juggle politics and comedy.
But as the story evolves, acertain manufactured gloss settles over things. It’s not thatElla McCay is bad – it’s enjoyable in the moment and genuinely funny in places – but there’s anagging sense that we’re seeing adistant echo of something that peaked decades earlier. We’re left wondering whether Brooks’ brand of sentimental intelligence can still resonate in alandscape that often treats earnestness as anachronism.
Formally speaking, Brooks favours polished, warmly-lit interiors and unshowy set-ups that recall the aesthetic modesty of late-1990s Lifetime TV dramas. His televisual style prioritises dialogue and character beats over cinematic flourishes. Cinematographer Robert Elswit softens the edges of campaign offices with an idealised glow, as if political conflict might be soothed by the right afternoon light. Hans Zimmer’s unobtrusive melodic cues wrap the film in acomforting blanket, at times reinforcing the sense that it is built from much olderparts.
Indeed, the film plays like amodern homage to Frank Capra’sMr. Smith Goes To Washington(1939), offering aless grand version of the famous filibuster sequence which aimed to espouse its belief in messy people over perfect politics. Capra proposed that, in its darkest hour, simple decency could steer American democracy back into the light. Brooksdoesn’t fully buy this fantasy, but he doesn’t reject it either. Jimmy Stewart’s hero Jeff Smith, and in her own way, Mackey’s Ella, become symbols of endurance dropped into systems thick with cynicism. The film sits somewhere between hope and realism, an ode to public service for an audience whose optimism is running low.
