‘Eleanor the Great’ Review: June Squibb Leads a Poignant Tale of Reinvention in Scarlett Johansson’s First Feature

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Sep 8

Written By Jonathan P. Moustakas

June Squibb brings warmth, bite, and vulnerability to Scarlett Johansson’s directorial debut, elevating a bittersweet comedy about grief, reinvention, and late-life self-discovery.

Scarlett Johansson steps behind the camera for the first time with Eleanor the Great, a gentle but structurally uneven comedy-drama that marks a welcome shift in focus for an actress-turned-director known more for blockbusters than personal storytelling. Here, Johansson explores grief, purpose, and the complicated contours of aging with a mostly steady hand, even as the film occasionally stumbles in tone and pacing. At the center of it all is June Squibb, whose performance grounds the movie with humor, honesty, and a vivid sense of emotional truth.

The film opens on a sun-dappled slice of Florida life, where Eleanor (Squibb) shares a simple and serene routine with her best friend Bessie (Rita Zohar). There’s something deeply affecting in these early sequences — two older women who’ve long since buried their husbands, living together in soft companionship. Morning coffee, grocery store runs, and local news broadcasts form the emotional architecture of their world. Johansson, with cinematographer Hélène Louvart, gives these small moments visual warmth and depth, treating aging with grace and reverence. The visual storytelling feels deeply considered, revealing a directorial voice that’s observant if still developing.

Bessie’s sudden death upends everything. Grief quickly gives way to a kind of emotional displacement as Eleanor is shipped off to New York to live with her daughter Lisa (Jessica Hecht) and grandson Max (Will Price). But Lisa is emotionally checked out and Max is a teenager lost in his digital universe. Eleanor becomes a figure of silence in a house too distracted to notice her. The film smartly lets the discomfort of generational disconnects hang in the air. There are quiet scenes of Eleanor trying to make herself useful — setting the table, folding laundry — that speak louder than dialogue.

Desperate for connection, Eleanor finds herself at the local Jewish Community Center, where a scheduling mishap lands her in a Holocaust survivor support group. Rather than correct the assumption, Eleanor decides, on impulse, to claim Bessie’s story as her own. What follows is a moral tangle that’s less about deception and more about how lonely people sometimes borrow meaning to feel seen. Her budding relationship with Nina (Erin Kellyman), a journalism student looking for her next big story, adds emotional friction and charm in equal measure.

This narrative detour is intriguing but tricky. Johansson’s direction shifts from lighthearted farce to ethical drama and back again, and the transitions don’t always land smoothly. Key emotional beats — such as Eleanor’s growing guilt or Nina’s creeping suspicion — are sometimes rushed or underplayed. But Squibb makes up for it in layers: her Eleanor is proud, scrappy, and deeply yearning, often saying one thing with her face while the truth sits unresolved in her eyes.

The film’s strongest thread is Eleanor’s decision to finally prepare for her long-delayed bat mitzvah, which becomes a symbolic journey of reclamation and self-definition. There’s something quietly radical in a 94-year-old woman taking control of her own narrative — rewriting her life not through lies, but through ritual, tradition, and friendship. The bat mitzvah scenes are some of the most moving in the film.

Chiwetel Ejiofor appears in a brief but warm role as Roger, a news anchor and Nina’s father. His late introduction feels like an afterthought, but his presence adds gravitas. Jessica Hecht, as Lisa, injects subtle depth into what could have been a one-note role. Her own story of divorce and emotional burnout echoes Eleanor’s isolation in a way the film doesn’t fully unpack but leaves hanging for viewers to consider.

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What Eleanor the Great lacks in narrative polish, it makes up for in sincerity. The film may not dig as deep as its premise allows, but it creates space for reflection, empathy, and generational conversation. Johansson’s debut is imperfect, but it’s also personal — and that matters. June Squibb carries the film with ease, proving once again that a seasoned actor at the center of a film is more than enough to hold our attention.

It’s rare to see stories about nonagenarian women that don’t reduce them to comic relief or background characters. Here, Eleanor is neither punchline nor prop. She’s the protagonist of her own messy, meaningful second act. And that alone makes Eleanor the Great a small but notable triumph.