The latest star vehicle for George Clooney and Adam Sandler, directed by repeat Oscar nominee Noah Baumbach (Marriage Story), had no theatrical run in Vermont. Seeking Jay Kelly on Netflix, where it’s been available since December, I had to use the search function. Despite Golden Globe Award nominations for the leads, the movie doesn’t appear to be a priority for the streaming service.
Which is appropriate, perhaps, because Jay Kelly pays ambivalent tribute to pre-streaming Hollywood, when a big star’s name could fill theaters. The movie’s low profile underscores the end of that era — but is it worth finding?
The deal
Jay Kelly (Clooney) is a great big shining star. The kind who doesn’t go anywhere without an entourage, including his loyal and always-harried manager, Ron (Adam Sandler); his publicist (Laura Dern); and a stylist (Emily Mortimer) to Sharpie his graying brows.
Having just wrapped a film in which his character confronts mortality, Jay wonders whether anything in his life is valuable — or even “real.” Ron urges him to immerse himself in a new project. But after the death of the director (Jim Broadbent) who made him famous and a troubling encounter with an old friend (Billy Crudup) who knew him before stardom, Jay makes a new plan.
Seizing a last chance to connect with his college-bound younger daughter (Grace Edwards), the actor flies to Europe. Naturally, the entourage comes along, with Ron fending off the demands of his other clients and family. As the motley crew makes its way to rural Tuscany, where Jay will receive a film society tribute, he relives past turning points and wishes he could have another take to get things right.
Will you like it?
Jay Kelly is a lot of movie. Less intimate than Baumbach’s typical projects, it boasts a large cast, a story that sweeps through time and space, and glossy cinematography (by Linus Sandgren) that feels better suited to the big screen. The first scene overwhelms us with the sights and sounds of a movie set, the camera traveling through overlapping conversations until it finally rests on Jay, the one everything revolves around.
The screenplay by Baumbach and Mortimer is a lot, too. If the film’s subject and style remind us of Birdman (with some Robert Altman tossed in), the dialogue recalls Aaron Sorkin in its quantity, its heightened whimsy, and the relentless spelling out and hammering in of its themes.
Granted, those themes are interesting. Movies and movie stars, Jay Kelly suggests, help people give meaning to their lives. “All my memories are movies,” Jay reflects — and, indeed, his flashbacks all involve roles he played. When he boards a train from Paris to Tuscany, surprising and thrilling the plebes, an elderly man exclaims that, gazing into Jay’s face, “I see my whole life.”
The irony, of course, is that Jay no longer knows who he is, a confusion emphasized by an awkward reunion with his dad (Stacy Keach). Baumbach and Mortimer invite us to reflect on the toll of a life spent pretending to be the hero(es) other people need you to be.
At the same time, the filmmakers use Jay’s entourage to explore the difficulty of being a star’s support system — an invisible architect of the fakeness. And that’s where the film’s “a lot” sometimes becomes too much.
Clooney and Sandler deliver sensitive, affecting performances, giving Jay and Ron a lived-in relationship that raises teasing questions about where business ends and friendship begins. (Ron calls Jay “puppy,” suggesting affection — until we hear him use the same term of endearment on another client [Patrick Wilson].)
But the entourage subplot can also be distracting, as when Ron and Dern’s character get an overcomplicated backstory with no payoff. Struggling to tie all their thematic strands together, Baumbach and Mortimer end up flattening them into a borderline hackneyed message about the importance of blood ties. While Ron’s work for Jay takes him away from his loved ones, Jay has estranged his daughters with his neglect. The problem is that Jay’s and Ron’s families feel more like a demanding chorus than full-fledged characters — unlike in the recent Sentimental Value, which explores a similar conflict while giving equal weight to the artist and his shortchanged kids.
As a bid to make Jay’s plight more relatable to the average viewer, the film’s messaging doesn’t hit the mark. If you enjoy seeing the film industry reflect on its own neuroses, though, you’ll eat up Jay Kelly’s insider details and the reflections it invites.
Many critics have bemoaned the death of the Hollywood star, touting Clooney as one of the last examples, but I have to admit that Jay Kelly just reinforced my doubts about the whole thing. One of the greatest pleasures of film-going is seeing new talents emerge seemingly from nowhere. If stardom is dead, acting is alive and well.
If you like this, try…
Sentimental Value (2025; rentable): Joachim Trier’s Oscar-nominated drama explores the perspectives of an aging film industry legend and the two daughters he neglected.
“The Studio” (one season, 2025; Apple TV): If Jay Kelly represents the old Hollywood where stardom was currency, Seth Rogen’s studio head character navigates a radically different landscape in this clever satire.
“BoJack Horseman” (six seasons, 2014-20; Netflix): Raphael Bob-Waksberg’s adult animated comedy about a depressed talking horse who was once a sitcom star somehow remains one of the deepest dives to date into the toxicity of Hollywood and the price of fame.
This article appears in The Media Issue • 2026.
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