by Cain Noble-Davies
Worth: $15.00
FilmInk rates movies out of $20 — the score indicates the amount we believe a ticket to the movie to be worth
Cast:
Emma Mackey, Spike Fearn, Jamie Lee Curtis, Woody Harrelson, Ayo Edebiri, Albert Brooks, Jack Lowden, Rebecca Hall, Kumail Nanjiani, Julie Kavner, Kellen Raffaelo
Intro:
… a solid pick-me-up flick.
James L. Brooks is invested in people above all else. From helping establish the animation landmark of The Simpsons, to putting the backing of Gracie Films behind the feature debuts of Cameron Crowe, Wes Anderson, and more recently Kelly Fremon Craig (The Edge of Seventeen), to his endearing approach to storytelling for the big screen that has shown clear influence right up to the present day with Celine Song’s Materialists, Brooks has defined his career on finding the right people both behind the scenes and on the screen. His is a confident legacy that could (albeit shakily, given the bleh-ness of his last film How Do You Know) rest easily without him getting directly involved ever again; he’s basically the Slick Rick of Hollywood. Of course, Slick Rick broke a lengthy silent streak in 2025 to show that he’s still got the juice, and James L. Brooks has done much the same here.
Billed as a political dramedy, Ella McCay is the story of the titular lieutenant governor (Emma Mackey) as she navigates both the turbulent world of political office, and the strains of family life.
Set in 2008 against the backdrop of the Great Recession, Ella is a rare breed of pol that isn’t in the job for the sake of a career, but to help people. While Brooks is no stranger to satire, theming tends to be more of a flavour enhancer to his works than a crucial ingredient on its own. Ella McCay ultimately treats politics much like I’ll Do Anything did showbiz, Broadcast News did the media, and How Do You Know did the exhilarating ins and outs of stock fraud – making a point is nice, but only how it pertains to actual people on-screen.
Interpersonal relationships and wordy but impactful dialogue are where Brooks shines, and this is no different. More so than anything to do with the acquisition of power or the cynicism of public office, the film’s brightest moments come from how Mackey, and indeed every other actor around her, play with the dialogue and even each other’s feelings as characters.
Mackey is great at the centre, whilst her family is a veritable stew of loud but honest (Jamie Lee Curtis as her aunt Helen), simpering (Woody Harrelson as the scandal-ridden father Eddie), and almost-impressively introverted (Spike Fearn as younger brother Casey). The latter, in particular, brings the best out of Ella, as their sibling bond makes for not only the most emotional moments (Kellen Raffaelo’s performance as child Casey is a bona fide heartstopper; keep an eye on this kid), but also the film’s only sturdy subplot between him and a weirdly-underutilised Ayo Edebiri. It’s a solid example of the kind of truly disarming romance dynamics that Brooks still has a knack for. The only real dip is Jack Lowden’s Ryan, an old fashioned and all too familiar love interest.
Ella McCay has its moments of political salience, but the real entertainment comes from the wording rather than the specific meaning. There’s plenty of giggles to go round, pretty much every actor puts in the effort to ground the odd contrivance and déjà vu development as realistic and relatable, and while it has its dramatic moments, it’s mostly just a lot of fun to see everyone bounce off each other verbally. It’s not likely to set the box office ablaze, but it’s still a solid pick-me-up flick.
