Picture this: a heartfelt drama diving into the depths of Holocaust survival and personal grief, only to waver between heartfelt poignancy and uncertain tones. It's a story that pulls at your heartstrings, yet leaves you questioning its true impact. But here's where it gets intriguing—can a single extraordinary performance truly elevate a film riddled with flaws? Let's explore 'Eleanor the Great,' Scarlett Johansson's directorial debut, and unpack its strengths, shortcomings, and the deeper conversations it sparks.
At the heart of this film is Eleanor Morgenstein, a vibrant 94-year-old woman from the Midwest who's relocated to Florida. Following the passing of her dearest companion, Bessie—a Holocaust survivor who shared her life with Eleanor—they form an inseparable bond. Devastated by Bessie's death, Eleanor heads to New York City, where she joins a group for Jewish seniors. There, she unexpectedly finds herself among actual Holocaust survivors, and what starts as a hopeful search for new connections spirals into something far more complex.
Initially, Eleanor feels uplifted by the promise of friendship. However, she begins weaving tales from Bessie's harrowing experiences into her own backstory, presenting them as her personal memories of the Holocaust. This isn't just casual storytelling; it's a deliberate act of borrowing trauma to feel included. For beginners unfamiliar with Holocaust stories, think of it as Eleanor trying to adopt the pain of someone else's unimaginable suffering to bridge her own loneliness after loss. It's a choice that sets the stage for the film's exploration of grief, memory, and the ethics of shared histories.
Enter Nina, portrayed by Erin Kellyman, a young journalism student researching Holocaust survivors for her article. Nina, who's grappling with the recent death of her own mother, forms a deep emotional link with Eleanor. She's genuinely touched by Eleanor's 'stories,' which resonate with her own sense of bereavement. But as Nina's piece gains traction—especially when her father, a news anchor played by Chiwetel Ejiofor, turns it into a compelling human interest segment on his show—the stakes rise dramatically. Eleanor, who began with what might seem like good intentions to honor Bessie's memory, suddenly finds herself in over her head.
Early on, the movie cleverly hints at its central theme through a lighthearted yet pointed supermarket encounter. An elderly acquaintance snaps at Eleanor, 'You were born in New York. You can't claim to feel the Holocaust's weight—you weren't there.' This moment underscores the film's deeper inquiry: how do we process grief as individuals and as a community? It prompts us to reflect on what motivates someone like Eleanor to adopt another person's traumatic past. And this is the part most people miss—it's not just about fabrication; it's a commentary on the lengths we go to connect with shared pain, especially in the face of personal loss.
Anchoring the entire film is the remarkable performance from June Squibb, who plays Eleanor with a blend of gentle wit and endearing quirkiness. At 94 during filming (and now 96), Squibb brings decades of experience to the role—she's had a solid career in theater and film spanning over 60 years, but her breakthrough came with her acclaimed turn in Alexander Payne's 'Nebraska' in 2013. Her portrayal is the film's undeniable highlight, infusing Eleanor with a vivacious energy that's both relatable and captivating. Interestingly, while the movie touches on aging through a subplot involving a care home, it doesn't dwell heavily on it; Squibb's age only becomes noticeable when the story briefly shifts there.
Scarlett Johansson's motivation to direct this story stems from her own research into her family's Holocaust survival history. She's widely known for blockbuster hits like the 'Avengers' series, which have made her one of Hollywood's highest-grossing stars, but she also has a strong portfolio of quieter, character-driven indie films. Think of her breakout in 'Ghost World' or her powerful role in Noah Baumbach's 'Marriage Story'—these showcase her range beyond action spectacles. 'Eleanor the Great' draws heavily from that American indie tradition of intimate character studies, much like Baumbach's work or Woody Allen's films (Johansson has collaborated with Allen on 'Vicky Cristina Barcelona' and 'Match Point').
As a first-time director, Johansson doesn't dazzle with flashy techniques or unique styles. Instead, the film embraces a softly sentimental view of New York City—its cozy diners, bustling crosswalks, and iconic yellow taxis—evoking a nostalgic, everyday charm. The strongest scenes capture those Woody Allen-esque moments of urban life, allowing Squibb to shine with her character's subtle sarcasm and charming grouchiness. Johansson, drawing from her actor-director background, excels at giving performers room to inhabit their roles, letting scenes unfold naturally and without rush.
That said, the script by Tory Kamen leaves something to be desired. It hints at sharper wit and more engaging banter in the characters' interactions, but these moments never fully ignite. When the plot builds to its supposed emotional crescendo—the revelation of Eleanor's fabrications—it falls flat, lacking both humor and true depth. The tone here feels muddled and overly sentimental, followed by a string of tense dialogues where the cast valiantly tries to extract emotion from an uninspired screenplay.
But here's where it gets controversial: the film grapples with the Holocaust's cultural legacy and its impact on Jewish descendants, yet it handles this with less finesse than other works. For instance, Jesse Eisenberg's 'A Real Pain'—a Bafta-winning, Oscar-nominated film—successfully blends comedy with profound emotion through a pair of cousins touring Jewish Poland and confronting Holocaust sites. Their journey shifts from lighthearted bickering to a powerful silence at Majdanek concentration camp, delivering a poignant message that lingers. 'Eleanor the Great' lacks such a transformative moment, making its intentions feel half-hearted.
The movie attempts to soften Eleanor's appropriation of Bessie's stories by including flashbacks, showing Eleanor absorbing those tales during a restless night. These sequences, featuring Bessie's own words in an extended, heartfelt monologue near the end, are skillfully acted and genuinely moving. However, when the narrative pivots in its final act to Eleanor's potential placement in a retirement home, it again oscillates between humor and sadness without truly connecting the two.
Ultimately, 'Eleanor the Great' has noble ambitions but is undermined by its script, pacing, and inability to fully embrace the weight of its themes. It results in a somewhat empty experience, despite the stellar core performance. To compare, imagine if a film about such heavy subjects treated them lightly—does that dilute the importance of remembrance, or does it invite us to question how we honor personal traumas? Some might argue Eleanor's actions are a form of tribute, preserving memories in her own way, while others see it as disrespectful theft. What do you think? Does borrowing another's story to cope with grief make it more relatable, or does it undermine the authenticity of Holocaust narratives? Share your thoughts in the comments—do you agree that the film's tonal shifts weaken its message, or could this ambiguity be its strength? Let's discuss!
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