Rachel McAdams stars as a TV producer trying to convince an august newsman, played by Harrison Ford, to soften his image in the comedy Morning Glory. (Macall Polay/Paramount Pictures)

Comedies about workplaces are not exactly a rarity, but you don’t often find one that works as hard as Morning Glory. Directed by Roger Michell from a zippy if formulaic script by chick-flick specialist Aline Brosh McKenna (The Devil Wears Prada, 27 Dresses), this light-hearted tale of a troubled morning-TV show offers a display of agility, tenacity and sheer chutzpah by two actors at very different stages in their careers.

This light-hearted tale offers a display of agility and sheer chutzpah by two actors at very different stages in their careers.

Like the story within the movie itself, Morning Glory can be framed as a showdown between a relative ingénue and a crotchety veteran of the biz. We have Rachel McAdams, as a plucky TV producer trying to reverse the decline of a morning-TV show called Daybreak, against Harrison Ford, who plays the revered newsman who becomes a reluctant part of the producer’s plans.

For McAdams, Morning Glory is a chance to demonstrate her considerable gifts as a comedic actor, as well as her ability to carry a mainstream Hollywood production. In the six years since the Canadian’s star-making appearances in Mean Girls and The Notebook, she’s tended to take on larger parts in modest indie dramas (like the too-little-seen Married Life), or smaller roles in Hollywood vehicles for bigger A-listers (like Sherlock Holmes). Really, The Time Traveler’s Wife is the only other recent movie to rest so much on her shoulders, and that one required her to do little more than make moony eyes at Eric Bana.

McAdams must’ve been bottling up all that unused energy, because she’s practically bouncing off walls in Morning Glory. Even in the perfunctory scenes that establish the underdog status of her character, Becky, she can’t stop moving or talking. Results can be semi-disastrous at times – as Becky says by way of excusing her latest faux pas, “I bungle and I ramble.”

While she can be a jumble of nerves prone to literally banging her head against the wall, Becky is never presented as a buffoon. Instead, she comes across as a high-strung, high-functioning workaholic whose mix of clumsiness, earnestness and sweetness gives her an unlikely but formidable charm. It’s hard to imagine a better part for McAdams, and she attacks it with enormous verve. (Cast as her love interest, Patrick Wilson is the one stuck making moony eyes.) Whatever Morning Glory’s shortcomings – and there are quite a few, especially in the final reel – it marks another breakthrough for McAdams.

What’s more surprising is how well Ford fares opposite both his younger co-star and a delightful Diane Keaton as the longtime host of Daybreak. Given the way Ford dragged his heels through Hollywood Homicide, Firewall and the execrable Indiana Jones and the Kingdom of the Crystal Skull, it’s as if he’s awake for the first time in years. Giving depth to what could’ve been an easy caricature, he applies great gusto to the role of Mike Pomeroy, the distinguished-to-the-point-of-pompous newsman who bristles at any of Becky’s efforts to soften his image to suit the world of morning TV.

As a satire, Morning Glory doesn’t have much in the way of teeth — then again, it’s not supposed to be Network. The idea that there’s still a battle for the soul of the television medium seems decidedly antiquated. Mike regards the show as piffle, but Becky doesn’t necessarily see anything wrong with Daybreak’s people-pleasing menu of animal stories, health updates, cooking demos and the occasional meatier item. As she tells him, “The world has been debating news versus entertainment for years, and guess what, Mike? Your side lost.”

At the same time, Michell and the cast have great fun portraying the ratings-grabbing, YouTube-friendly stunts that are a big part of Becky’s Daybreak overhaul. For Keaton’s character, that entails kissing frogs, dressing in rubber sumo-wrestler outfits and joining 50 Cent for a performance of Candy Shop, all of which she seems to enjoy a great deal.

At its liveliest, Morning Glory is a worthy successor to James L. Brooks’ Broadcast News (1987), an equally well-acted dramedy about a TV news show rife with professional and personal rivalries. It’s too bad that Morning Glory falters so badly in the climactic scenes, with Brosh McKenna suddenly trying to wedge the movie into a pattern that looked better on The Devil Wears Prada.

Like that hit, Morning Glory becomes a cautionary tale about an ambitious young woman who must learn how to balance her career aspirations and her personal life. But that’s not nearly as interesting as the things that Becky and Mike have in common: an immense fear of failure and an eagerness to enjoy a job well done. How marvelous it is to see these actors derive just as much pleasure from their work.

Morning Glory opens Nov. 10.

Jason Anderson is a writer based in Toronto.