Ella McCay Review: The Last Testament of a Living Legend on Hope and Forgiveness

      There is a memorable moment in the middle of Ella McCay, which was both written and directed by the talented James L. Brooks. In this scene, the main character Ella (played by Emma Mackey) attends her first cabinet meeting as the newly sworn-in governor. Just three days into her tenure (with Brooks regular Albert Brooks portraying the governor who resigned to take up the role of Secretary of the Interior, leaving Ella at the helm), chaos ensues. As everyone rises to applaud her arrival, she exclaims, “STOP CLAPPING!” This precious moment is quickly overshadowed by her shock at her own outburst, and her attempt to recover does little to improve the situation. Brooks expertly crafts this scene, as does Mackey, resulting in a mix of humor, relatability, and surprise, all while operating at a level beyond ordinary life. These elements are hallmarks of the best of Brooks’ films. While Ella McCay may not rank among his finest, it is certainly his best work since As Good as It Gets.

      Mackey delivers a charming performance in the lead role, effectively portraying the classic Brooks heroine archetype with great enthusiasm. Given the impressive supporting cast (which includes Kumail Nanjiani, Woody Harrelson, and Jack Lowden), it’s somewhat unexpected that they don't quite match her energy—except for Jamie Lee Curtis, who shines in her role. As with many of Brooks’ narratives, the film feels overstuffed. Unlike his top works, not all of the plot threads come together by the conclusion. For instance, there’s a subplot involving Ella’s younger brother Casey (Spike Fearn) and his potential love interest Susan (Ayo Edebiri) that starts without resolution or direction.

      The overarching storyline captivates: policy expert Ella appears to achieve all her dreams, only for everything to unravel before she can relish it. Brooks explores the unforgivable sins people commit, a theme our narrator Julie Kavner (who plays Ella’s cherished secretary on screen) directly addresses. Ella has wound from her father’s (Harrelson) misdeeds that she cannot heal from, and she comes to the realization that she may have married a variant of him (Lowden portraying a true villain and one of Brooks' more despicable characters). What can be learned from this? Simply to endure and move forward. There is a genuine bravery in this conclusion.

      The film is also set in 2008, a deliberate and impactful choice. A recession is looming, coupled with a fading promise of progressive change (enter the “Yes We Can!” chants) that will remain unfulfilled. McCay’s unexpected governorship and her “radical” policies (social initiatives that succeed? can you imagine?) terrify the Democratic establishment, which promptly plots against her. While it may seem absurd and farcical, it reflects the realities of American liberal politics over the last two decades. This isn’t cynicism; it’s the truth.

      Some viewers might be put off by the inevitability of it all. Ultimately, Ella embodies a do-gooder spirit in a country that often undervalues altruism, particularly in politics. She represents a remnant of a possibly nonexistent era. The same can be said for Ella McCay and its director. The very existence of a mid-budget adult drama from a major studio in 2025 is a small triumph, albeit a bittersweet one. The fact that this film—likely his last—offers a hopeful perspective on the small efforts still possible to aid others may come across as cliché. It saddens me that these two concepts, cliché and hopeful, have found a common ground in today's world.

      Ella McCay is currently showing in theaters.