By Sarah Osman
Jay Kelly is a shallow attack on shallowness.
Jay Kelly, directed by Noah Baumbach. Screening at Coolidge Corner Theater, AMC Theaters, Landmark Kendall Square Cinema.
George Clooney in Jay Kelly. Photo: NYFF
Who are you when you’re always playing other people? And what happens when, even as “yourself,” you feel you are still playing a character?
That is the Pirandellian question, the enigma of personal identity, that drives Noah Baumbach’s latest film, Jay Kelly. George Clooney stars as the titular protagonist, a magnetic film actor who draws his inspiration from the likes of Marlon Brando and Clark Gable. Kelly is a perfectionist, always insisting he can do a better take than the one before. The plot tips the egotistical performer into an introspective crisis.
When Kelly’s youngest daughter, Daisy (Grace Edwards), tells her dad she can’t spend time with him before she’s off to college because she’s decided to go to Europe, the performer decides to tag along. Except he doesn’t tell Daisy his plan. Instead, he relies on his assistant to track down the credit card expenses of Daisy’s friend; that way, he can figure out where in Europe his daughter is and show up — in disguise. Meanwhile, Kelly is also in mourning for the loss of his admired mentor. Along with this intimation of mortality, he runs into an old acting class buddy, and this exchange results in a fist fight. The result: Kelly is forced to take stock of his life.
In his guilt-ridden dreams, Kelly wanders onto film sets that present his new view of old memories. He sees just how badly he screwed over his acting buddy, and how he played a better family man in a movie than he was to his oldest daughter. In his waking life, Kelly exudes overweening charm turned to overdrive: he meets random Europeans on a train and invites them to tribute to his career in Tuscany, much to the chagrin of his manager, Ron (Adam Sandler), and longtime publicist, Liz (Laura Dern).
Adam Sandler and Greta Gerwig in Jay Kelly. Photo: NYFF
While Clooney plays Kelly with a convincing amount of blinkered neurotic charisma, it feels as though the actor is lampooning himself rather than creating a character. Watching a haunted film artist come to terms with their empty life is nothing new (8 1/2, anyone?). The jaunts through Europe are beautiful, but they don’t make up for the fact that Kelly is more of an idea than a portrait of a human being. Ron, his resigned manager, is a far more captivating figure. Arguably, he is Jay Kelly’s only real buddy, but the actor cruelly reduces the relationship to the monetary: “You’re my friend who takes 15% of my paycheck.” In truth, Ron has sacrificed plenty for his “friend,” from time spent away from his family and a failed romance with Liz to not focusing on his other clients. Sandler is gratifyingly subdued as Ron, a decent guy who is saddled with a compulsive need to apologize for his boss. The film suggests that Ron is trapped in some sort of Stockholm syndrome, a parasitic relationship that he can’t escape, no matter how hard he tries. Ron is the real dramatic center of Jay Kelly, yet the script pushes Sandler aside to indulge in cliches about showbiz redemption. And that is a shame, because he gives a flawless performance here, unlike any he’s delivered before. Unfortunately, chances are that the Academy of Motion Picture Arts and Sciences will be more taken by Clooney’s superficial antics when Oscar time rolls around.
Like most films about Hollywood, Jay Kelly mocks the absurdity of celebrity. A team of worker bees follows Jay Kelly wherever he goes, including a last-minute flight to Paris. They bow to Kelly’s every whim, from lightly coloring in his eyebrows to make them look less gray to bringing him a bottle of sparkling water whenever he asks. At this point in time, these zetzes come off as inside jokes, inserted by filmmakers to mock themselves and their peers’ experiences in the industry. But for viewers, they come off as stale, even self-congratulatory. (We Hollywood types know just how ridiculous we are.) This kind of Tinsel Town spoofing has been done before — and better. Even worse, the shoehorned-in satire undercuts the intense emotions the film appears to be going for, especially regarding Ron’s heartbreak. Jay Kelly is a shallow attack on shallowness.
Sarah Mina Osman is based in Los Angeles. In addition to The Arts Fuse, her writing can be found in The Huffington Post, Success Magazine, Matador Network, HelloGiggles, Business Insider, and WatchMojo. She has an MFA in Creative Writing from the University of North Carolina Wilmington and is working on her first novel. She has a deep appreciation for sloths and tacos. You can keep up with her on Instagram @SarahMinaOsman and at Bluesky @sarahminaosman.bsky.social.
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