REVIEW: “Jay Kelly” (2025)

(Source: IMDb) 

WRITER’S NOTE: As of this post, I didn’t get to see this film in theaters. I watched it on Netflix at home. Even so, it still really affected me. 

As a writer and acting veteran, one of my fascinations and interests is the difference between reality and role playing. It’s one thing to play a part in film or TV. But it’s another thing to do it in real-life—except it’s apparently on a whole other level, almost like being yourself is a burden. (According to some, like Sylvia Plath, apparently.) Jay Kelly tells the story of a Hollywood movie star who begins to have an identity crisis late in his career—and on the cusp of receiving a Lifetime Achievement Award. Played by George Clooney, Jay’s life has been defined by the movies and the roles he’s played in them. Until he decides to get away and take a vacation to Paris, with his entourage in tow. 

Filmmaker Noah Baumbach (who co-wrote the script with actress Emily Mortimer) populates this story with an all-star ensemble (including Laura Dern, Billy Crudup, Riley Keuogh, Stacy Keach, Greta Gerwig, and Jim Broadbent), revealing thoroughly believable chemistry we never would have collectively expected amongst such a diverse group of thespians. At the center of it, I never thought I would ever see Clooney (as the titular actor) and Adam Sandler (as his long-time manager) on screen together. Under Baumbach’s direction and trademark style (overlapping dialogue, complex characters), they’re terrific. Some have wondered if the film is a semi-autobiography of Clooney’s own life. (One key moment may confirm this, even taking us out of the movie a bit?) Sandler’s Ron (who looks great in a neckerchief) is consistently likable, relatable, a devoted family man, and even heartbreaking. 

The film opens with a long, uncut tracking shot that tours a movie set and the crew behind the scenes of what may be one of Jay’s last films, with his role’s “demise” apparently reflecting how Jay the actor and Jay the man feels about his life in cinema. One person even asks him, “Do you know how hard it is to be yourself?” With characters transitioning in and out of (and between) performance and reality—although, it’s hard to tell, sometimes—not to mention effective transitions between set pieces (i.e., flashbacks) as well as distinct personalities and intense drama (i.e, how people act versus what they really think), this is creative, practical, and personal filmmaking with echoes of Old Hollywood (courtesy Nicholas Brittel’s score) mixed with independent cinema. (Did I mention Jay name-drops a few famous movie star names in one scene, while makeup artists use Sharpie markers to darken his eyebrows?) Reportedly, there are no visual effects in the making of this film. 

(Source: IMDb) 

Clooney’s performance reminded me of his work in Alexander Payne’s The Descendants, in that his character, while he seems larger-than-life, is just a regular, relatable guy. Jay begins to question his existence, re-evaluate his life, has regrets about his choices, what he didn’t do right, the people he has affected (for better or worse), what he has missed, and contemplates better things. Although he’s hesitant to discuss his own upbringing, he asks himself, Did my career really mean anything? What did I really want? It’s fitting that, in trying and wanting to mend his estranged relationships with his now-adult children, a sign in a therapy office reads, “Transformation Begins With You.” 

Jay’s encounters with real/ordinary people, fans, and old friends—and wanting to experience things that really matter—while in Paris present an interesting dichotomy, in terms of knowing people yet not knowing them. “How can I play people,” he asks himself, “when I don’t see people?” Ditto if he’s been living his own life or somebody else’s. Other themes include discussions about death, power, success, reality, and how one defines “forever.” The results may be melancholic and bittersweet at times (sad-happy or happy-sad?). But they’re also a marvel to behold. The fact that Jay Kelly presents both sides of reality and performance is what helps make this a thoughtful, contemplative, and life-affirming piece—and, arguably, the film of 2025 for me. It’s certainly the most personal. 

Can I go again? I’d like another one. What a transcendent line.