“Do you know how hard it is to play yourself”? George Clooney’s affable, classy, Hollywood actor Jay Kelly asks, and is asked, frequently in Noah Baumbach’s swooning dramedy, aptly titled Jay Kelly. Jay is a movie star in the truest, and perhaps saddest, sense of the word. He has entertained millions for decades on the big screen and entertained them just as much when the cameras stopped rolling, so much so that he no longer knows where his celebrity persona ends and he begins. And that becomes a problem when Jay is forced to take stock of his life and career and finds that his body of work, substantial as it is, doesn’t amount to much for the people he cares about most.
Jay Kelly is such a George Clooney movie that he and Jay share the same filmography, which is kinda cool actually. You’d think Clooney had a hand in the screenplay, but it’s Baumbach and co-writer/co-star Emily Mortimer, the latter a longtime personal favorite. It made me wonder if she was pulling from some of her own experiences, and probably so with the gaggle of supporting characters playing Jay’s various publicists, managers, stylists, etc. who comprise his massive entourage. For Baumbach, Jay Kelly is unnaturally sweet and tender, perhaps a bit soft, especially when you consider the caustic vibe of his early work. Like Jay, maybe Baumbach has also gotten a bit gooey over the years, and has begun making movies that are wistful and nostalgic because it’s too hard staying cynical forever.
The film begins with Jay wrapping up a crime picture, and it’s a death scene that he just can’t seem to get perfect. He keeps asking for another take, even though the director is happy with it. Even his canine co-star seems happy. But it’s not that Jay can’t get the scene right; it becomes immediately clear that he isn’t ready to let go. Something about this film is different. “All of my memories are movies”, he says. That’s what happens when you’ve gone from role to role for 35 years with nary a break in between. A film festival is set to honor his career with a prestigious award, something Jay would normally rebuke but now…well, it doesn’t seem like such a bad idea.
Jay’s problem is that real life isn’t like a movie set. When he’s acting, Jay can fuck up over and over again and he’ll always get another take. But real life doesn’t work that way. His mistakes need to be dealt with, or they will deal with him. And Jay hasn’t wanted to deal with them. So he has an estranged daughter, Jessica (Riley Keough), a former actress herself, who left the business and regrets that her father chose his career over her. His youngest daughter, Daisy (Grace Edwards), is about to leave for college and she’d rather spend her last few days of freedom gallavanting through France with her friends than with her father. So while Jay is ready to take stock of all that has life has amounted to, there’s quite a lot of sadness and regret that comes with looking backwards. Peter, his mentor, and the director who gave him his big break (played beautifully by Jim Broadbent in a small role), has just died, and Jay has to grapple with the way he’s treated his family and friends. Peter spent the end of his career just trying to maintain relevance and had asked Jay for help, which he refused to give because it might hurt his image. Another former friend, an acting school buddy named Timothy (Billy Crudup), joins Jay for a post-funeral drink and it quickly goes from a happy reunion to angry resentment and eventual fisticuffs. Now Jay has a black eye and a sudden need to get out of dodge and accept that award in Tuscany; and if he happens to encounter Daisy along the way, all the better.
On the one hand, it’s tough to feel too bad for Jay. The film shows how much he enjoys being who everyone else wants him to be, rather than himself. He lives it up on private planes, he has a rider that guarantees him one slice of cheesecake everywhere he goes, even though he doesn’t like cheesecake. His fans flock to him and love him. An entire train full of passengers practically throw themselves at Jay’s feet. Baumbach and Mortimer find the kernel of sadness and regret underneath it. Sacrifices were made to get where Jay wanted to go, and now he’s got to contend with that. There are no second takes in life. But Jay Kelly doesn’t explore any of this with any particular depth. It’s Fellini, the light and glossy, Hollywood worshipping version, and that is entertaining enough if not especially insightful. Then again, Clooney has never needed to be insightful to be entertaining, so there’s that.
On the other hand, Jay is interesting because he’s not that great of a guy when he lets the mask slip. Adam Sandler plays his beleaguered manager Ron, who like a million of others in Jay’s stable, has given his entire life to ensure Jay’s success. And yet, Jay isn’t a true friend in return. Jay has betrayed people to get where he is, he’s left his children in the dust, his father (played by a surly Stacy Keach) is barely a part of his life, and that’s just the tip of the iceberg. Maybe it’s just easier to be someone else when the real you kinda sucks?
Jay Kelly is telling a familiar, but still quite enjoyable story of celebrity midlife crisis. What doesn’t work is pretty much everything else around it that muddies the waters. Goofy, unfunny antics involving Jay’s diminishing companions become an unwanted distraction. Laura Dern plays Jay’s long-suffering publicist, who also shares a relationship with Ron. It seems all the women shared a past with Ron for some reason. Sandler probably asked for that to be added to the script. Jay thwarts a theft on the train, with Clooney running after the thief like he’s just broken out of prison in O Brother Where Are Thou?
Most of it gets in the way of what we really want more of. Clooney, playing a broken down, somber version of himself, still trying to make everyone else happy at his own expense. Jay Kelly can feel a bit narcissistic, a celebrity opening himself up to show us how tough he really has it out there. But Clooney, still gifted with that incredible smile, that stare that makes you feel like he’s acting for you alone, is such a force that he makes you forgive him for it. If this were a harder-hitting film, perhaps it wouldn’t be so easy. But I admit, I’m a pushover for Clooney and don’t mind being charmed.
Jay Kelly is streaming on Netflix now.
*NOTE: This review was originally part of our Middleburg Film Festival coverage.
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