Jay Kelly

There are films that have the best of intentions and whose heart is in the right place. Noah Baumbach's Jay Kelly, co-written by actress Emily Mortimer, is one of them. My first thought was that the story of a celebrated movie star reaching a crisis point in his career and personal life, was a middling one. However, Jay Kelly rejects such simplification and the conversation it provokes is perhaps more engaging than the film itself.

George Clooney plays the titular character, who is to be honoured with a lifetime achievement award at a European film festival. Having rejected the gong, Jay has second thoughts and decides to accept. He drags his entourage to Europe, including his longtime manager Ron (Adam Sandler) and publicist Liz (Laura Dern). His motivation, however, might be to stay closer to his youngest daughter Daisy (Grace Edwards), who surprisingly announces that she'll be travelling around Europe this summer, and describes her dear old father as being "like an empty vessel". It's a moment that unsettles Jay, and during his impromptu trip, he is forced to reckon with his inner demons and the integrity of his personal and professional relationships.

Baumbach and Mortimer home in on the themes of fame and fatherhood, pushing their protagonist down a self-reflective rabbit hole. Jay, however, doesn't strike us as the most self-reflective of people. Instead, he has been on autopilot and, with the help of his team, focused on building and sustaining his brand. But now, box office results are not what they once were for the ageing and greying star, whose own daughter sees the emptiness within him. Jay is forced to at least recognise the possibility that his fortunes can or will fade, and with it his sense of purpose, meaning and empowerment. It's troubling because, as Jay says, "All my memories are movies". If his star fades, what will become of him?

The story that unfolds is prone to romantic, sentimental, and saccharine overtures, and is even told through a nostalgic lens. It's therefore difficult not to pick up on the spiritual energy of classic Hollywood films like Roman Holiday. And yet, there's a modernity to Jay Kelly that creates an interesting friction, in which Baumbach, Mortimer and Clooney are folding past and present into one another. But Jay Kelly also has its roots in the biblical story of Paul, who underwent a personal transformation after being blinded by a white light on the road to Damascus. In Jay's case, the epiphany is less dramatic, but it remains a story about a person being forced to reckon with themselves and embrace the inevitable winds of change.

The suddeness in which Jay begins to feel uncomfortable and question his existence is well handled by Baumbach and Mortimer, who understand that discontentment and doubt quietly creep into our minds and gnaw away at us. The fallout is well paced as Jay reflects on his relationship with fame, and comes to understand the faulty foundations upon which he has built his personal and professional relationships. He rarely sees or speaks to his eldest daughter Jessica (Riley Keogh), and his entourage have the naive belief they are a little family, but if not, friends. More telling are two acquaintances from Jay's past – Timothy (Billy Crudup) an acting friend who has a legitimate grievance with Jay, and Peter Schneider (Jim Broadbent), a director who gave Jay his big break. Now on a run of bad movies, he asks his friend to lend his support to a film he's developing that he hopes will turn his fortunes around. Jay, however, refuses, revealing his emotionless and transactional instincts.

There's a thematic thread to pull at that reveals Jay is a layered and more complex character, who might have those unattractive and rougher edges. Clooney's charisma is an effective smokescreen that distracts from his imperfections. We're supposed to like Jay, and the humility from his crisis, riding with ordinary passengers on a train in France, is an emotionally exploitative act. Baumbach, Mortimer and Clooney are aware of the way the Hollywood machine traditionally manufactured and protected its stars, and there might be a nod to this here. Jay Kelly, which played in the Gala section of the 69th BFI London Film Festival, is not only about a movie star's crisis but the naïveté and shallowness of the celebrity culture.

It cannot be denied that Jay Kelly is interested in exploring the human condition through the lens of fame and fatherhood, but the romantic, sentimental, and saccharine tones come with a risk. Whether Baumbach and Mortimer are able to successfully protect the film hangs by a thread. For this critic, these tones smothered and detracted from its deeper intentions. The larger concern is that Jay Kelly risks being labelled as disingenuous, in that way, Hollywood or mainstream American cinema appropriates weightier themes that the narrative and style work against. Jay Kelly is less of a middling type of film, and more a film whose internal conflicts create questions about its overall effectiveness.

Reviewed on: 19 Oct 2025