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No plot. No purpose. Disappointing.
There was no point to this movie. Zero.
It’s that stealthy sense of guilt that turns Ella McCay into a rich, if often bewildering, document for me. Yes, it’s the kind of movie Hollywood doesn’t make much of anymore, but honestly, even back in the day, the industry rarely ever pushed out something this delightfully weird.
Ella McCay is gas-leak cinema at its finest, which is to say that there is a naïve purity to its unhinged qualities that is almost charming.
Ella McCay has some fine moments but getting to those little gold nuggets requires a lot of tedious sifting through the sand.