In Jay Kelly, director Noah Baumbach joins forces with George Clooney to deliver a sharply observed, melancholic study of celebrity, memory and regret. Clooney plays Kelly, a Hollywood icon forced to shake off the stardust and confront the impact of his choices. As he drifts between denial and self-awareness, he confronts the fallout of decades lived at the centre of his own universe.
What Baumbach attempts, and often pulls off (but not throughout) with considerable elegance, is a meta-fictional story of an ambitious man’s hubris. This is a film about Jay watching his own mythology crumble, only to realise and awaken to a truer, humbler version of himself.
The framing conceit is both theatrical and intimate. Jay finds memories being triggered as truth bombs explode in his face—as he loses a mentor, bumps into a long-lost friend, and reconnects with an estranged daughter who refuses to shift her boundaries. He slips into the wings of his own past, a spectator watching younger versions of himself moving through moments of triumph, selfishness, carelessness, entitlement and dishonesty.
Baumbach stages some of these scenes like live rehearsals or auditions and film shoots, creating a sense that Jay is wandering through a memory-theatre rather than a traditional flashback. This device allows Clooney to act mostly with his eyes—quiet, stunned, and sometimes amused as he recognises the impact of his choices. He witnesses the moments when fame began to distort not only his relationships, but his entire sense of self.
The film’s early stretches supply its most vibrant energy, thanks largely to the irresistible chemistry of Jay’s entourage. Adam Sandler steals multiple scenes as Ron Sukenick, Jay’s unflappable manager whose mix of loyalty, exhaustion and humour bring both levity and emotional thrust. Emily Mortimer, also co-writer of the story with Baumbach, plays Candy, the head of hair and makeup, Liz (Laura Dern) is Jay’s publicist, Silvano, his bodyguard. Baumbach clearly delights in exploring how a star’s orbit actually functions, and how the fabric can unravel when the nucleus begins to lose its grip.
One of the interesting approaches in the script is its perspective on how fame radiates outward, often carelessly. This is seen in the dynamics of the star’s entourage as well as relationships with his daughters and close associates. Jay’s attempt to reconnect with his estranged daughter provides the emotional throughline, grounding the film’s more conceptual elements in a real human longing. The ghosts of former friends and colleagues materialise not as clichés but as reminders of opportunities squandered and relationships abandoned in the name of career momentum. Baumbach suggests that the cost of stardom is rarely paid by the star alone; it accumulates and festers in the people who remain just off-screen.
The dialogue is often nimble, but also feels theatrical and unnatural. Even in the hands of this accomplished cast, the lines don’t always land. Clooney is magnetic as he steadily peels away the charm that has defined so much of his screen persona.
Sandler, meanwhile, offers a grounded, humane counterweight, reminding the audience that the people around a star often carry the emotional burden of decisions that are never theirs. Similarly, as Jay struggles to explain to his younger daughter Daisy (Grace Edwards) how lonely he will be when she leaves for college, she replies that he is never alone.
Daisy is off to Europe with friends, and this propels Jay to follow her. Midway through, he insists on taking a train from Paris to Italy. The train sequence becomes a riot of cameos from French, German and British actors. The compartments bustle with character detail, and the tone edges toward farce. The film undeniably slackens here, and the narrative drifts into digressions.
Jay Kelly is occasionally uneven and overlong, yet it’s an intelligent, humorous and often emotional exploration of fame’s collateral damage. Baumbach ends the film not with a grand revelation, but with a calm acknowledgement of where Jay stands as he finally understands the difference between being seen and truly seeing oneself.
‘Jay Kelly’ is on Netflix.
Udita Jhunjhunwala is a Goa-based film critic and curator.