REVIEW: ‘Jay Kelly’ Takes the Romance Out Of Movie Magic

Just over a quarter of the way through the meandering Jay Kelly, the film, written and directed by Noah Baumbach, makes an exasperating choice. In it, we see, via a flashback, the moment when the titular character makes a decision that would drive a wedge between him and his then-best friend, all in pursuit of acting and stardom.

On its own, the scene is trite but harmless. Distracted but deliberate. The foul is because this scene has already been talked out. Mere minutes prior, the current Jay Kelly (George Clooney) is forced to bear witness to his old friend berating him over the stolen audition, fueled by his resentment. The inability to trust the viewer, to overline the script, is the film’s ultimate undoing. 

Written by Baumbach and Emily Mortimer, Jay Kelly confuses navel-gazing for profundity. It is shocking that not a single person throughout the creative process looked at this script and questioned whether anyone— including those in it—would find it relatable.

Jay Kelly bores in its surface-level storytelling. 

The artistic existence and how and when we engage with art—how it changes us—is catnip for storytelling. And it can be done well. It can be profound and introspective, exacting and raw in how it cuts to the bone of the life of someone who wishes to create as a lifestyle and the type of person who gravitates towards it. 

You have to dig just a little to find examples. Everything from Look Back and The Fabelmans, to Singin’ in the Rain, The Hero, and Opening Night. From the process of grief through theater in Drive My Car or how artistic pursuits can have life wash by you, such as is the case in the devastating Synecdoche, New York.

Films such as Cinema Paradiso and The Long Day Closes highlight the magic of filmmaking through the eyes of consumers seeking escapism. The Coen Brothers have endeavored to demonstrate the tension of artistry through Hail, Caesar!, Inside Llewyn Davis, and Barton Fink.

A snap decision sets the story in motion. 

Jay Kelly wants to be one of those Hollywood films that Hollywood loves about the magic of making movies while simultaneously trying to channel the last, barking bite of his early titles, such as The Squid and the Whale, that take a scalpel to our most egocentric flaws. The result is condescending and dull. 

Clooney stars as the titular character, a Jay Kelly type, who is beginning to question the choices he’s made in his life. Spurned by the aforementioned dressing-down from his former friend, Timothy (Billy Crudup), the death of his former mentor, Peter (Jim Broadbent), and his youngest daughter choosing a European vacation over spending time with him, Jay is ready to reevaluate his priorities.

Coming off another film shoot that was fulfilling, he makes a decision to drop out of his next film. Instead, he decides to try and heal his soul (and run from the persistent passage of time) by heading to Europe to accept an initially passed-over achievement award.

Adam Sandler is great but that isn’t enough to save the film. 

Traveling with him as his trusted companion and long-suffering manager, Ron (Adam Sandler), who maintains the love of the magic of cinema, even if Jay has misplaced his own. As they embark on their voyage to Tuscany for the tribute, the two must contend with their relationships both with each other and their friends and family. They also, reluctantly, process the work they’ve put in over the years, and, for Jay in particular, what exactly he’ll leave behind. Because what does fame and fortune amount to when he can’t even get his daughters to attend his own tribute? 

It’s those threads about his family and the friendships he sabotaged that stifle any potential narrative momentum. Cloying and lifeless, the writing refuses to go deeper than surface-level observations. The script has no interest in interrogating Jay. Sure, there are calls about the damage he’s done to his eldest daughter, Jessica (a sorely underused Riley Keough), and therapy speaks about his distance.

There’s a running bit about how, while he’s never alone, he’s always lonely. And of course, the bookended, on the nose manipulation of him asking if he could “go again,” as if the entire film is leading up to him realizing if he could do it all over, he’d do it better. 

But there’s no substance or grit. It’s all baseline platitudes. Clooney is effortless because this is a role tailor-made for him, but it’s not revelatory. And yes, Sandler is good and the only suggestion of heart in the entire film. But even he is overlooked, his own pain and isolation from his family more a report than a well-layered character detail. 

The latest from Noah Baumbach is a waste of talent and location. 

Throughout all of this, the film tries to interject a storyline with Jay’s ailing, distant father, Ron’s cold, distant wife, and a once, could have been romance between Ron and Liz (a checked out Laura Dern), Jay’s publicist. It all goes nowhere. 

While Jay Kelly is clearly trying to be a semi-serious take-down of acting and, more accurately, “celebrity,” it doesn’t have the teeth for it. So it defaults to the glitz and glamour, the European countryside, and exhibitionist wealth. The script thinks it holds the meaning of life, but there’s no heart. It’s a film about films, and there’s no soul or whiff of empathy. 

Despite the roster of talent on screen and Baumbach’s history of strong character studies, Jay Kelly completely misses the mark. Masquerading as high art, it suffers because it has no interest in truly probing what the story is about. It doesn’t care.

The movie is resting on pretty, and the idea that any story about a complicated man is worth telling, without looking at the bits and pieces that build those complications. The result is a pretty face in a pretty suit, sitting in a lavish theater experiencing a version of life very few can comprehend. And we feel nothing. Roll the credits and send this back. 

Jay Kelly is streaming now on Netflix.