Written and directed by James L. Brooks, Ella McKay marks the return of one of Hollywood’s most influential storytellers. Brooks—the creative force behind The Mary Tyler Moore Show, Taxi, The Simpsons, and films like Terms of Endearment, Broadcast News, and As Good As It Gets—once again blends sharp dialogue, emotional vulnerability, and human complexity into a story that feels both intimate and expansive.
Ella McKay centers on its title character, a 34-year-old lieutenant governor who unexpectedly ascends to the governorship of her unnamed state in 2008 when her longtime mentor, Governor Bill Moore (played by Albert Brooks, no relation), is tapped for a federal cabinet position. Ella steps into power idealistic, driven, and eager to make a difference—but quickly discovers that good intentions are only the beginning.
Emma Mackey delivers a fantastic performance as Ella, grounding the character with intelligence, emotional accessibility, and a quiet determination. Ella must navigate the unforgiving terrain of modern politics while juggling family dysfunction, public scandals, marital strain, and the creeping disillusionment that comes with realizing how difficult real change can be.
The film boasts a strong ensemble cast. Albert Brooks brings warmth and gravitas as the outgoing governor, while Rebecca Hall and Kumail Nanjiani add texture to Ella’s orbit. Woody Harrelson plays Eddie McKay, Ella’s estranged father—a man so self-absorbed he struggles to see the damage he’s caused to those closest to him. Jamie Lee Curtis shines as Helen, Ella’s supportive aunt and consigliere, injecting the film with some of its most memorable comedic moments. The chemistry between Mackey and Curtis is a highlight; their scenes crackle with energy and warmth. Honestly, I’d gladly watch a Thelma and Louise-style road movie starring just the two of them.
While many reviewers haven’t embraced Ella McKay as enthusiastically as I have, I found myself completely drawn in by the dialogue and character interactions. Brooks has always excelled at making conversations feel consequential, and here, even the smallest exchanges carry emotional weight. The film also benefits from its setting—politically speaking, it feels like a story from a different era. The politics are still cutthroat, the divisions still present, but there’s a lingering sense of civility, of public service rooted in responsibility rather than spectacle. It’s a refreshing tonal shift.
What resonated most with me, though, was Ella herself. She’s ambitious and principled, trying desperately to do the right thing at every turn. But in her pursuit of professional excellence and personal fulfillment, she discovers an uncomfortable truth: sometimes you can’t balance work and life, and instead feel like you’re failing at both.
At its core, Ella McKay reminds us that we are not victims of our circumstances. Our backgrounds don’t determine our futures. Life doesn’t just happen to us—it happens for us. That message lands with quiet power, never overstated, and earned through character rather than speeches.
The film isn’t perfect. But imperfections aside, Ella McKay is a refreshing, thoughtful watch filled with strong performances and emotional honesty. By the end of the film, Ella finds herself at peace with the hand she’s been dealt. And perhaps that’s the ultimate pursuit—not just in politics, but in life itself.
This article appears in Jan 1 – Dec 31, 2025.