We don’t often get to witness such an extraordinary, star-making performance, but that’s certainly the case here.
(I vividly recall watching Emma Stone, in 2010’s rather modest Easy A, and knowing — with certainty — that she’d go far.)
Actually, it’s not entirely fair to call Ella McCay a breakout role for star Emma Mackey — or Emma Margaret Marie Tachard-Mackey, to use her mellifluous full name — since she already made significant waves in the British 2019-23 TV series Sex Education. Even so, seeing her wholly inhabit this big-screen character — with every word, gesture, expression, flip of her hair and sideways glance so perfectly delivered — is enchanting.
Credit where due, Mackey is matched — scene for scene, moment for moment — by an equally riveting (and hilarious) performance by co-star Jamie Lee Curtis.
Writer/director James L. Brooks’ political-hued dramedy is an intentional throwback to classic, socially conscious screwball comedies such as His Girl Friday, Mr. Deeds Goes to Town and Sullivan’s Travels … but with a modern spin that reflects contemporary bureaucratic intransience. On top of which, Brooks also paints a deeply intimate portrait of estranged family dynamics and the difficulty of navigating — let alone moving beyond — festering old wounds.
The story is narrated by Julie Kavner — her gravelly voice immortalized forever as Marge Simpson — who cheekily breaks the fourth wall, during her introduction, to inform us of her role. Ella McCay (Mackey) debuts in mid-flurry, as a poised, caring, idealistic, ambitious and highly intelligent 34-year-old who happens to be Lt. Governor of an unidentified state. (Filming took place throughout Rhode Island.)
We’re scarcely given time to digest this, when her friend and mentor, affectionately known as Governor Bill (Albert Brooks), reveals that he has just accepted a cabinet position in the forthcoming presidential administration. He immediately resigns, leaving a breathless Ella to serve as governor for the remaining 14 months of his term.
However … with a little help from our narrator …
… we’re also whisked back in time, to Ella’s 16-year-old self, confronted by yet another extramarital scandal involving her father, Eddie (Woody Harrelson). It’s a crucial moment, and everybody is dressed to perfection; Eddie expects his family to stand united, at his side, as he confronts the reporters waiting outside the front door of their home.
But Ella has had enough. She’s embarrassed for her mother, Claire (Rebecca Hall), who has long put up with such philandering; Ella also is enraged at her father’s kumbaya assumptions and lack of remorse. And she’s particularly infuriated by the fact that he also expects her younger and somewhat fragile brother, Casey (Kellen Raffaelo), to blindly participate in such a charade.
The remaining member of this family unit is Ella’s plain-spoken Aunt Helen (Curtis), a truth-teller and woman of absolute integrity, who makes no secret of her disgust for her brother, Eddie. Curtis excels at Helen’s blunt tongue and if-looks-could-kill dagger-eyes.
The resulting confrontation concludes with the first of this film’s many, many emotion-laden lines: a quiet “No, thank you” from Casey.
Events bounce back and forth between present and past, during the film’s first half, also establishing how teen-age Ella meets Ryan (Jack Lowden); they eventually marry. He’s handsome, athletic and graced with a sweet, spontaneous, fun-loving demeanor that she finds impossible to resist. She’s also smitten by his “normal” family background, and ceaseless devotion to her; how could she not adore him?
Unfortunately, her elevation to the governor’s chair comes with immediate issues. Most notably, she has long been unpopular with her party colleagues, due to her insufferably long speeches and relentlessly proactive political style.
These characteristics made her a valuable “second” to the enormously popular Governor Bill, who was able to channel her impassioned ideals into bits of social progress, here and there. Absent his presence, however, her fervor speaks more of religious zeal than political savvy … and she’s oblivious to how this turns off her colleagues.
More pressing, however, is a potential scandal. Given her long working days, and limited time at home, she and Ryan have been enjoying lunchtime, um, dalliances in a vacant apartment beneath the government building. Alas, this technically qualifies as misuse of government property, and a reporter is trying to blackmail her into granting him “access” in exchange for keeping mum … a compromise Ella isn’t about to make.
Which also begs the question: How did this reporter find out?
Making matters even worse, Eddie shows up at the popular local bar owned and run by Helen, wanting reconciliation with Ella after a 13-year estrangement. But his apparent display of repentance clearly is self-serving, and she accurately calls out his obvious lack of genuine remorse.
Harrelson is marvelous as this smarmy, arrogant jerk; Eddie’s faux pleading and crocodile near-tears are unspeakable. The truly annoying thing about Eddie is that he’s genuinely charming, while being hurtful; he’s aware of how he behaves, and doesn’t disown it. He also doesn’t apologize for it. We want to reach into the screen and smack him.
Curtis is as much a force of nature as Mackey, and their shared scenes are the stuff of cinematic magic. We all should have such a relative, watching our backs.
Lowden, recognized for his ongoing costarring role in the TV series Slow Horses, navigates a persuasively delicate dance with his portrayal of Ryan. At first blush a loving, devoted husband, cracks begin to emerge once Ella is elevated to Power. We then begin to realize that many of Ryan’s apparently “supportive” qualities share a douchey similarity to Eddie’s insincerity.
Kavner also plays Estelle, Ella’s dedicated assistant and gatekeeper, particularly with respect to the boundary-shredding Ryan. Estelle is as blunt and savvy as Helen; she calls them as she sees them … and she sees them spot-on. Her position obviously is protected, so she’s bulletproof, and can be exactly who she is. Which, in a word, is a hoot.
Kumail Nanjiani has a key role as State Trooper Nash, the primary member of Ella’s security detail. He’s ubiquitous, hovering in the background, listening and absorbing. He knows Ella to be a good person of impeccable character, and thus is wholly devoted and protective. Nanjiani’s dry comic timing is repeatedly put to excellent use.
All of these characters spar and interact, often with the rat-a-tat dialogue so beloved by the aforementioned screwball comedies. But the layered emotional heft here turns much of this dialogue into emotion-laden zingers and uncomfortable moments of harsh realization. None is better, at one key moment, than Ella’s frustrated outburst: “If you want to be popular, you can’t get anything done!”
The one weak link in Brooks’ story involves the now-grown Casey (Spike Fearn). The once-loving and grateful relationship he had with Ella has become less comfortable, because he resents her ongoing “big sister” protective umbrella. But Brooks doesn’t properly back-story this shift, and a sidebar detail involving Eddie’s apparently failed relationship with Susan (Ayo Edebiri) really feels contrived.
That said, Mackey and Fearn share several excellent scenes, and their encounters feel persuasive; we simply don’t know Casey well enough to get sufficiently involved.
In all other respects, Brooks masterfully holds our attention while successfully juggling all these myriad relationships, dramatic hiccups and political jabs. That’s no surprise; he has deftly blended comedy and pathos ever since Terms of Endearment, Broadcast News and As Good as It Gets.
Ella McCay definitely belongs in their company.





