Film Review: Jay Kelly 影星傑凱利 (2025) - USA
Reviewed by Andrew Chan (Film Critic Circle of Australia)
I rated it 8/10
Rating: ★ ★ ★ ★
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Noah Baumbach's "Jay Kelly," is a film that lingers. It’s the kind of picture that sparks arguments in coffee shops and lengthy threads online, not because it’s obscure, but because it strikes a raw, resonant nerve about the price tag attached to the American Dream, particularly the gilded, ruthless version peddled by Hollywood. This is a glittering satire, yes, puncturing the vanity and isolation of fame, but it’s also a profoundly moving character study, a melancholy waltz through the wreckage left in the wake of relentless ambition.
The film’s beating heart, and its greatest surprise, lies in the alchemical pairing of George Clooney and Adam Sandler. Clooney, playing a fictional superstar named Jay Kelly whose wealth and accolades have carved out an existential void within him, delivers a performance that is startlingly vulnerable and disarming. It’s a role that knowingly winks at his own meticulously crafted public persona – the effortless charm, the suave detachment – only to peel it back layer by layer, revealing the frightened, lonely man beneath the tan and the tuxedo. He’s magnetic, as always, but it’s a magnetism tinged with a deep, unsettling sadness.
Yet, for all of Clooney’s compelling work, it is Sandler, as Jay’s long-suffering manager Ron, who truly anchors the film with soul-crushing authenticity. Sandler, once again proving his dramatic mettle rivals the best of his generation (think "Uncut Gems," but with a quieter, more profound ache), embodies Ron as a man perpetually stooped under the weight of Jay’s narcissism. He’s the fixer, the absorber of chaos, the loyal soldier whose own life has been irrevocably scarred by proximity to a supernova. As I watched Sandler navigate Ron’s weary resignation and buried affection, the thought crystallized: Sandler perfectly embodies a guy who's been hit by Jay's emotional shrapnel over and over again... Rons don't get tributes. And that’s the quiet tragedy Baumbach captures so well.
Baumbach, co-writing with the sharp Emily Mortimer, directs with a languid pace that might test some viewers, but it’s a deliberate, rewarding rhythm. It allows the characters to breathe, their silences speaking volumes about the chasms between them. Visually, the film is a stunning paradox. Cinematographer Linus Sandgren shoots on lush 35mm film, bathing the screen in the classic, high-glamour aesthetic of Old Hollywood – think sun-drenched pools, sprawling estates, European vistas that are truly dazzling in the film's Italian and French-set second act. But this radiant beauty serves as a stark, ironic counterpoint to the profound internal loneliness etched on every character's face. The warmth of the celluloid only deepens the chill of their isolation.
Baumbach employs several inspired creative choices. The unique flashback transitions are particularly haunting: an older Jay literally steps into scenes from his past, a ghostly observer haunting his own memories, unable to interact, forced only to witness the moments where his choices – the career over the family dinner, the premiere over the school play – solidified his gilded cage. It’s a powerful visual metaphor for regret. Nicholas Britell’s score provides essential tender underscoring, a melancholic countermelody that weaves through the narrative, amplifying the emotional weight without ever overwhelming it.
Is "Jay Kelly" perfect? Some will undoubtedly find its focus on the woes of the ultra-successful self-indulgent or its structure calculated. Others may initially bristle at the perceived triviality of “rich people problems." And yes, the deliberate pace demands patience. But the film earns its appeal precisely through its refusal to offer easy answers or neat redemption. It doesn’t condemn Jay nor absolve him; it presents him, flaws and agonies laid bare. It functions brilliantly as both an insider's look at the soul-corroding machinery of fame and a universal story about the paths not taken, the connections frayed by the relentless pursuit of more.
"Jay Kelly" masters the delicate, essential balance – the chaos of a life lived in the spotlight versus the aching stillness of solitude; the technical brilliance of its craft versus the raw emotional honesty of its performances. It’s a film that, like its protagonist, possesses the courage not to provide comfortable answers. It asks uncomfortable questions about success, sacrifice, and the ghosts we create along the way, leaving us haunted, moved, and fiercely debating long after the credits roll. That, in itself, is a kind of triumph. (Neo, 2026)