‘Jay Kelly’ Review: Noah Baumbach's Reflection on the Last Figures of Stardom [Festival du Nouveau Cinéma 2025]
Noah Baumbach reflects on the dwindling nature of stardom in the metafictional Jay Kelly, which sees George Clooney grapple with the finitude of a career inside an era that Hollywood now rejects.
“All my memories are movies,” says Jay Kelly (George Clooney) at the top of Noah Baumbach’s aptly titled Jay Kelly. The famous star Baumbach and co-writer Emily Mortimer depict in their film has recently undergone a crisis of sorts, in the wake of the passing of his mentor Peter Schneider (Jim Broadbent), who, we learn, has been instrumental in shaping his current career as the world-renowned icon of the silver screen he has now become. Jay Kelly has he life many of us envy – luxurious homes where his needs are tended at every turn, adoration from millions of fans around the world, and a career he can be proud of as a figure who has contributed so much for the art form of cinema to evolve in the ways it is now becoming.
Yet, it doesn’t take long for us to realize that all of these materialistic elements that would theoretically make someone happy has plunged Jay into a pit of despair, with his children (played by Riley Keough and Grace Edwards) refusing to spend time with him, while he also hasn’t repaired his fractured relationship with his father (played by Stacy Keach) His only “friend” is his agent, Ron Sukenick (Adam Sandler), who takes 15% of what Jay makes and is required to sacrifice time he should theoretically spend with his wife (Greta Gerwig) and other clients (the only one we see is masterfully played by Patrick Wilson) to instead be with his most significant asset.
We also quickly comprehend that this text isn’t necessarily about Jay, but about George Clooney himself, who, in his sixties, is beginning to reflect on the dwindling time he now has left and the career he carved on the silver screen. We had glimmers of a self-reflexive performance like this in his last movie, Wolfs, which saw him and Brad Pitt wrestle with the idea that their bodies – and status within Hollywood – are decaying. They will soon be put out to pasture before the next generation of “stars” come in. But are there any “stars” eager to blow up the screen, or is this era beginning its end?
We’re now at a time where the biggest movie stars in the world, many of whom we grew up watching and idolizing, have grown old and aren’t the same as they once were. Many of them, pioneers of the craft and influential figures within Hollywood, have passed away. There will, of course, be a new pack of hopeful actors attempting to be on the same pedestal as a Brad Pitt, George Clooney, or even a Tom Cruise, but none will ever attain the same status they’ve achieved on the screen.
In a way, Jay Kelly already seems like the culmination of Clooney’s “late stage,” as he questions if all of this – the incredible performances, the adulation from millions of people he’ll never meet, his personal life constantly invaded by vulturous paparazzis and tabloid magazines who have no shame in spreading rumors, or even leaking information he does not want to see public – was worth it. Did I blow it? What does this “career” mean, within the context of a decaying number of “movie stars” in Hollywood, as I’ve now surpassed sixty-four candles and don’t have as much time as I did when I made Return of the Killer Tomatoes, not knowing when this crazy ride would take me, thirty-seven years later?
Of course, there’s an added layer of fiction to Clooney’s self-deprecating turn as Jay Kelly, which isn’t related to his personal life or acting style. However, the metatext is still present, especially when Baumbach cameos as himself during a key flashback, and culminates the picture with a sequence that forces the audience to reckon with who Clooney is as an artist, and who he will become now that his life is flashing by his very eyes. Jay Kelly, or, this fictionalized version of Clooney, represents a classic archetypal “rags to riches” story. As he has become increasingly wealthy and popular, he has no one to share his lifestyle with, and now that he’s achieved significant milestones enough to grant him a career achievement award, wonders if the choices he made in the past were enough to get a life he’s proud of.
Through Fellini-esque flashbacks that consistently blur the harsh reality of his past with idealized fragments of what his life should be, we learn the profound sadness of an actor who has gained everything he’s ever dreamed of, only for him not to be able to provide – and care – for the people he should theoretically have been there for. We create, and not just in film, an unrewarding culture of “the grind can’t stop, don’t stop, shouldn’t stop” where we work day and night in the hopes of getting something out of it, sometimes even sacrificing sleep and personal time to make as much money as possible. We won’t be prosperous if we don’t work all day, and we won’t be able to achieve anything meaningful if the grind doesn’t stop.
However, this culture ensures we will never, not once, enjoy the fruits of our labor, because we’re always busy grinding until our body physically forces us to stop, when we’re dead. Throughout his life, Jay has prioritized becoming a known figure within Hollywood, instead of maintaining his friendships with people like Timothy (played by Billy Crudup, in the best bit part of any film released in 2025), who would’ve had his big break in the acting world if Jay hadn’t volunteered to read sides at his audition. Now, Timothy wants Jay dead because his career amounted to nothing, while Jay’s got everything to show for it. It seems desperately unfair, but what he doesn’t know is that Jay is in a miserable rut that he can’t – and won’t – get out of. Timothy might have walked that same path if Jay didn’t do what he did in that fateful audition.
The bulk of the movie is Clooney, through the artifice of Jay Kelly, coming to terms with the fact that he’ll never be able to change the life he has. As much as he pushes out anyone who wants to help him, making amends – and trying to become the father he always should’ve been – is out of the question. He’s too far gone, and the constant push and pull with the employment of reality-breaking flashbacks, as Jay navigates a train from France to Tuscany, where the bulk of the movie occurs, is how Baumbach operates in making us understand the disintegrated reality the actor lives in.
Through Linus Sandgren’s deft eye, who composes the most dreamlike images of his career, Clooney's journey of self-reflexion is given real – and urgent – immediacy. It also helps that the veteran actor gives what will likely be considered as one of the best performances of his career, one that was filled with legendary turns after the next. What’s most interesting about Clooney’s time in the spotlight here, however, is how he grapples with the finitude of his career within Hollywood and reflects on what he wanted to be in movies, and away from them.
All of his memories are movies, until he begins to remember who he wasn’t, and the resulting conclusion of Jay’s life may move you to tears. Even if you weren’t a fan of Clooney’s work or didn’t pay much attention to his oeuvre, the final scene, which looks back on everything he did for us, on the screen, may grab the most ardent of cynics. There wasn’t a dry eye in my row, and the sniffles in the auditorium, during its Quebec premiere at the Festival du Nouveau Cinéma, were heard loud and clear. Baumbach has achieved the intended effect he wanted to discuss, as George Clooney’s time on the screen – and on this planet – is soon coming to an end. Clooney may very well be the last movie star, with Tom Cruise and Brad Pitt. No one’s prepared for a starless era in film, but this is what Hollywood currently proposes, as influencers become more prominent and the profession of acting, as an artform in its own right, is beginning to be devalued through the “signing” of AI-generated “actors” that are touted as “works of art.”
As more and more stars (recently, the passing of Diane Keaton) leave us, what will happen to the movies? As Jay Kelly realizes that his time on this Earth is almost up and he’d like another go-around at this crazy experience called life, he fully understands that he is genuinely the last of his kind. There were stars in Hollywood, and as much as Jay Kelly wants to fight it, his time in the spotlight is long gone. But when the lights go back up, and everyone returns to their daily occupations, what will happen to him? It’s a question he’s unprepared to answer, which Baumbach also doesn’t want to infer on. Life is a series of fleeting memories and regretful moments that we are forced to carry on our backs until it’s all over, and when it is, we’d like another take.
Jay Kelly, the actor, will live on long after he’s departed this earth, but what about Jay Kelly the person? For George Clooney, this is something he is still trying to figure out – and likely won’t. Our last movie star is at his most vulnerable and emotionally affecting, while Baumbach reminds us all why Clooney – not Jay Kelly – will live on and endure, despite the cultural decline of movies as an art form we should desperately strive to preserve. No one could’ve asked for more, as classic as a story like this is. As a bounce back from the (terrible) White Noise, Baumbach’s still got it. As a vehicle for Clooney to share his deepest regrets as a movie star, Jay Kelly couldn’t be any better.