Last Thursday, actress June Squibb celebrated her 96th birthday. Born just a week after the 1929 stock market crash that triggered the Great Depression, Squibb began her theater career in 1951 at age 23. She transitioned to television in 1985 at 57, and to film in 1990, appearing in Woody Allen’s Alice at age 62. Over the years, she has taken on numerous supporting roles, including her Oscar-nominated performance in Alexander Payne’s Nebraska (2013), which she filmed at age 85. Her first-ever lead role came in 2024 with Thelma, at the age of 94. A year later, she stars in a second lead role in Eleanor the Great, which also marks Scarlett Johansson’s directorial debut.
Squibb is believed to be the oldest actress ever to play a leading role in a feature film. With Thelma, she broke the Guinness World Record previously held by Lillian Gish, who starred in The Whales of August (1987) at age 93. Among male actors, the record belongs to Clint Eastwood, who directed and starred in Cry Macho (2021) at age 91.
Eleanor the Great – Trailer
(Video: Courtesy of Forum Film)
Beyond the physical and cognitive demands that a lead role requires, a film built around such an elderly protagonist also faces other challenges. It can be difficult to attract audiences when the central character is in an age bracket often associated with physical decline and social isolation. Thelma succeeded as an indie comedy-action film, gently drawing humor from its improbability, and radiated the director’s affection for his grandmother. Eleanor the Great, by contrast, is more complicated.
Written by first-time screenwriter Tory Kamen, the script was inspired by an independent, outspoken Jewish grandmother. Squibb’s character, modeled after her, is placed at the heart of a comedic drama set amid the slowly disappearing generation of Holocaust survivors. The film also explores themes of loneliness in old age, the search for comfort through intergenerational connections, and the consequences of a well-meaning deception. But does the film succeed in handling all these layers? Despite respect for Squibb’s graceful performance, the writing and direction remain unpolished.
Eleanor Morgenstein, 94, still lives independently in Florida with her longtime friend Bessie Stern, played by Israeli actress Rita Zohar. While June Squibb wasn’t born Jewish, she converted nearly 70 years ago. In today’s environment, where casting choices are scrutinized for authenticity regarding ethnicity and identity, this is perhaps enough to grant her a perceived “moral right” to portray a Jewish elder on screen. Still, it doesn’t mean she’s entirely convincing as someone born and raised in the Bronx — Squibb grew up in Illinois. In contrast, Zohar clearly brings cultural authenticity to the role, evident in her accent, expressions and portrayal of a Holocaust survivor.
The film opens with the gentle rhythms of Eleanor and Bessie’s daily life: affectionate conversations, sitting by the beach, shopping together. They share a fondness for Roger Davis (Chiwetel Ejiofor), a prominent African American news anchor. Bessie is soft-spoken; Eleanor is sharper — witty, quick-thinking and unafraid to spin a convenient “alternative truth” to protect her friend. These qualities drive the plot. Just minutes into the film, Bessie passes away.
So what are Eleanor’s options? As a disapproving neighbor puts it: “Who can you turn to? The daughter hooked on Adderall, or the one who won’t speak to you?” Eleanor chooses the latter. She moves to New York to live with her estranged daughter Lisa (Jessica Hecht) and grandson Max (Will Price). Her relationship with Lisa is tense — understandably so, given Eleanor’s lack of filters and habit of speaking her mind. She gets along better with Max. Still, both characters are underwritten and appear only when the plot demands, then fade into the background.
Lisa tries to push Eleanor out of the house — ideally to a nursing home, or at least to activities at the local Jewish community center. When Eleanor arrives there, she accidentally joins a support group for Holocaust survivors (Johansson made a point of casting real survivors). Given what we’ve learned about Eleanor, we’re meant to accept that she lets the group believe she shares their history — a choice that sets the story in motion.
Among the group is Nina Davis (Erin Kellyman), a student who has shifted from creative writing to journalism. She’s reporting on survivors and is personally invested: her Jewish mother passed away just months earlier, and her father is none other than Roger Davis, the news anchor Eleanor and Bessie admired. In his personal life, Davis is emotionally distant, burying himself in work and ignoring his daughter’s grief. Nina’s journalistic turn is a transparent effort to earn his attention.
Nina’s biography mirrors that of Johansson, whose mother is also Jewish. The director has said the film is an expression of her connection to Jewish identity and a tribute to the fading voices of Holocaust survivors. But whether the film succeeds in this aim is debatable.
Eleanor’s relationship with Nina develops unencumbered by long familial baggage. Yet the film’s dramatic arc unfolds predictably. One can foresee not only the second act’s twists but the resolution of the third. Eleanor the Great avoids moral judgment of its protagonist’s deception. Instead, it justifies her actions — somewhat awkwardly — as rooted in loneliness, even when she’s no longer living alone. More manipulatively, the film suggests that Eleanor’s impersonation of a survivor is a tribute to her late friend Bessie, who only ever shared her trauma with Eleanor. Thus, the act becomes not a lie but a form of emotional expression and a way to give voice to survivor stories. Still, the screenwriter and director’s approach could fairly be described as tone deaf — lacking the sensitivity such a subject demands.
Eleanor the Great is not a film whose flaws merit harsh condemnation. It was clearly made with good intentions. But its execution is flawed, and the small screen may be its more natural home.
