Politics is one of the few career choices where the more successful you are, the less people tend to like you – and in the case of career politicians, they tend to be seen as outdated remnants of the past, put in positions where they dictate the lives of their constituents, and too stubborn to step aside when it is in the best interests of the public to see new officials sworn into government. This is something that James L. Brooks uses as the central conceit of Ella McCay, his long-awaited return to cinema after over a decade away from the director’s chair. The film follows the titular character, a young and ambitious politician who works as the deputy to the governor of the unnamed state in which she has lived her whole life. When he is given a cabinet position, Ella is suddenly elevated to the position of governor – much younger than her colleagues, and far less experienced- she is forced to handle many unexpected challenges, particularly those relating to a minor infraction that she realises could derail her entire political career if she is not careful. Her first few days in office are plagued with obstacles, causing Ella to reassess whether or not this is the way she wants to spend the rest of her life, realising that there is more to serving the public than having a title, something she tends to learn the hard way, but which are nonetheless valuable lessons onto which she will grasp as she moves forward. A film that delivers exactly what it promises, and not an ounce more or less, Ella McCay is a fascinating peculiarity, a story of politics and the inner machinations of government that intersects with a tale of a young woman coming into her own in challenging circumstances – and much like Brooks’ previous works, it has an abundance of potential, but whether or not it lives up to it is entirely up to the individual viewer, who will be charmed but perhaps slightly unimpressed with a film that takes some bold swings, but sadly tends to be driven more by a certain self-congratulatory smugness than it is anything particularly unique or insightful.

The premise of Ella McCay and its overall thematic content are blatantly obvious, and Brooks makes very little effort to conceal what he was aiming to achieve with this film. We tend to view politicians as these paragons of experience, usually envisioning them as older people who have done their time and who are perceived as having some degree of wisdom and deep knowledge earned through years of service. However, every political figure has to start somewhere (a wild concept considering how some of the world’s most powerful leaders in recent years have decided to run for office much later in life), which is where the impetus for this film emerges. The idea of crafting a political satire that also happens to be a coming-of-age film is interesting (it certainly isn’t revolutionary, as we’ve seen a couple of projects that tackle the same topic), and it has a lot of potential, even if it is occasionally very derivative. The idea of a young woman learning some of life’s most vital lessons in government buildings and corridors of the bureaucracy, rather than the usual locations we associate with these experiences, bears some weight in terms of piquing our curiosity, and Brooks has often built his ideas around presenting common ideas in a starkly different way than we would expect. Nonetheless, it remains extremely simple and focuses on some concepts that are familiar to us, if not perhaps slightly too obvious. Interestingly, Brooks makes a film that is unexpectedly quite apolitical, in the sense that he refrains from actually providing details, such as the political ideology (or even the affiliation) of the main characters, or even naming the state in which they exist. This ambiguity shifts the attention away from the actual policies, which turn out to be profoundly unimportant, and more to the idea that politics can be impossible to navigate, regardless of the side of the aisle on which one finds themselves. If it wasn’t so clear that the director had only positive intentions on keeping the details vague, we could call Ella McCay a cowardly film, but we can appreciate the ironic charm that comes with making a political film that actually seems to have very little interest in discussing politics in any meaningful way, focusing instead on the people and how their personal lives often intersect with their professional duties.

Beyond his work as a director, Brooks has always had a very keen eye for casting – in both his position as a filmmaker and producer, he has consistently found the right people to play certain roles, and its difficult to name anyone who was perhaps wrongly cast in a specific role, which is a credit to both his skills at finding the right actors for these parts, as well as his ability to work closely with them to develop their characters. In the case of Ella McCay, he had the pick of the litter, and just about every young actor working in Hollywood today would have leapt at the opportunity to work with someone who has had so much success with his collaborations. However, while he doesn’t go with a complete unknown, he does choose Emma Mackey to play the role, which is surprising considering that she has quite a small handful of credits, but is still awaiting her big breakthrough. It remains to be seen whether this will come as a result of Ella McCay, but my instinct is that it will only be seen as a stepping stone towards her finally being consolidated as a true star (one could argue that the coveted role of Jadis in the upcoming reboot of C.S. Lewis’ Narnia books helmed by Greta Gerwig bears a lot of potential in this regard), particularly since this is not a performance that feels primed to facilitate the star-is-born moment we’d expect. Nevertheless, while a more established (and perhaps slightly older – she’s a few years too young to be playing the character) actor to take on the role, Mackey is still wonderful, doing very well in capturing the idealism and optimism of this young woman simply trying to balance her budding political career with her personal life. Something that Brooks does even better is giving veterans a chance to showcase their own skills, even if there was never any doubt – Jamie Lee Curtis is surprisingly subdued as Ella’s rambunctious but wise aunt, Albert Brooks makes a rare return to the screen as her mentor, and the rest of the cast (including Woody Harrelson, Rebecca Hall, Jack Lowden, Ayo Edebiri, Kumail Nanjiani and Julie Kavner in a very rare on-screen performance) help pad the film, giving it a very impressive cast where they all prove to be quite good, even if they’re merely playing second fiddle to the protagonist throughout the story.

However, as promising as some of its ideas may be (especially since it is anchored by some tremendous performances), Ella McCay is far from a perfect film, and frankly has qualities that are beyond questionable at the best of times. The problems are rooted in the fact that Brooks is not a political filmmaker – not everyone needs to be driven by a fervent desire to explore socio-cultural issues through their work, but when it comes to making a film that is built around the challenges of having a career in politics, it seems strange to employ such a milquetoast approach to the narrative. This is a film that says nothing we haven’t heard before, and as appealing as it may be to consider the merits of it as a mainstream studio comedy about politics, a film simply cannot exist in the current political landscape without at least taking some kind of a stance. Everything in Ella McCay ultimately works out in the protagonist’s favour, and as charismatic as Mackey may be in the part, a navel-gazing story of an idealistic politician whose downfall comes from the fact that she is too earnest and trusting in others is not only dull, it feels misguided. Brooks has never had a problem skirting around the edges of more complex subject matter when it is required – his masterpieces Terms of Endearment and Broadcast News are both fantastic mainstream comedies and quietly layered satires of American culture, with the latter in particular being a perfect example of taking a simple ideas (in that case the growing presence of the media in the daily lives of ordinary people, as seen through the eyes of the people who are at the forefront) and seeking out new points of discussion. This isn’t the case here – it’s very much a film in which everything fits together neatly, and the lack of any real conflict (the revelation of who the villain in this film turns out to be is truly absurd), and the inconsistent logic and frankly incoherent rambling only underlines how little this film actually has to say about the subject matter. It doesn’t make it any less enjoyable as a charming comedy, but it does prevent it from even approaching greatness, despite having all the tools needed to turn this premise into something special, rather than just a mildly amusing film.

Ultimately, it can be said that Brooks is a director who somehow makes films that are for everyone and absolutely no one, especially in his more recent outings that show he still has a fondness for certain subjects, but has seemingly lost the bite that made his first couple of films so extraordinary, and his later ones charming at the very least. It remains to be seen how this film will be received once some time has elapsed, since it could either flourish into a well-liked cult comedy (especially since some of its more sardonic edges are quite compelling in their own right), or fade into obscurity, the swan song of a once-beloved filmmaker who returned after over a decade to direct one final comedy that aimed to be an attempt at forging some kind of cohesion between the political aisles in a notoriously divided time (but I’d imagine this would be the point most people would choose as the ultimate downfall of this film), which is ultimately why it doesn’t quite work as a satire nor a particularly effective comedy. It offers exactly what we would expect, spending far too much time passing itself off as some daring, insightful comedy about politics, relationships and individuality, but somehow forgetting to make any meaningful remarks on them, settling for the bare minimum and not much else. It’s a comforting and entertaining film, but at a time when we do require more than just the most basic, straightforward approach to this subject matter, it proves to be wildly insufficient, squandering its potential and turning Ella McCay into a sweet film, but one that never truly amounts to anything of real value, a disappointing but expected development for a film that perhaps proposed slightly more than it could feasibly handle, which is reflected in the many peculiar and bland moments that make it mostly quite forgettable.