Jay Kelly is a love letter to cinema itself — a reminder of how deeply films can shape, move, and define us. It’s a meditation on life and choices, and a showcase of remarkable performances. Noah Baumbach delivers a film that is funny, moving, and thoughtful.

“It’s a hell of a responsibility to be yourself. It’s much easier to be somebody else or nobody at all.” – Sylvia Plath

When I booked my ticket for Jay Kelly, I mostly knew it for its star-studded cast — George Clooney, Adam Sandler, Laura Dern, Greta Gerwig, Billy Crudup, and more.

Back in 2022, I was on the same island watching Noah Baumbach’s White Noise, which ended up feeling more confusing than anything else to me. I wasn’t sure what to expect from his new feature, but curiosity won out — mostly because of the rest of Baumbach’s filmography, which includes some of the best films I’ve ever seen, like Marriage Story (2019) and Frances Ha (2012).

Jay Kelly turned out to be everything I wanted and more — easily one of my favourite films of the festival, if not the entire year. I laughed, I cried, and I left with my heart full. One thing about me is that I love films about films. They’re compelling on multiple levels: you get a peek behind the curtain at how movies are made, but you’re also watching a film reflect on itself — on storytelling, on art, on the blurry line between truth and performance. For film lovers like me (and as someone who’s been on set before), that’s endlessly fascinating. There’s a romance to it, almost like watching a love letter to cinema, and it made me connect to the story on a deeper level. The opening sequence captures that feeling brilliantly — it’s absolutely incredible and sets the perfect tone.

The story follows Jay Kelly (George Clooney), a celebrated Hollywood actor who has spent decades moving from one film set to another. After wrapping his latest project, he looks forward to spending time with his youngest daughter before she heads to college, though she has plans of her own: a trip to Europe with friends. After attending the funeral of his friend and mentor Peter Schneider (Jim Broadbent), Jay reconnects with an old acting-class colleague, Timothy (Billy Crudup, who delivers a magnetic one-scene performance that had the audience cheering). What begins as a nostalgic drink quickly unravels, as Timothy confesses his long-held resentment toward Jay — for taking the role that could have launched his own career, and even for stealing the woman he loved.

That encounter shakes Jay to his core and he begins to reflect on his choices, his past, and the cost of his success. Ultimately, he cancels his next film with the Louis brothers and embarks on a trip to Europe with his manager Ron (Adam Sandler), his publicist Liz (Laura Dern), and his team — chasing both his daughter’s footsteps and the lifetime achievement award he had once declined.

Jay Kelly is a heartfelt, funny, and deeply moving film about the price of fame, the consequences of our choices, and what it means to know yourself truly. Sylvia Plath once wrote: “It’s a hell of a responsibility to be yourself. It’s much easier to be somebody else or nobody at all.” Actors spend their lives lying for a living — “and the better you are at lying, the more truthful you’ll be.” But who are you, really? After decades of inhabiting other people’s lives, how do you begin to find your own?

Backed by a beautifully composed score by Nicholas Britell, which at times moved me to tears, the films follows Jay as he revisits key moments from his life, both professional and personal. He moves seamlessly from one door in the present to a set, a house, or even a classroom from the past. This approach is utterly captivating. It often feels theatrical, almost like watching a play unfold on screen, and there’s a certain intimacy in seeing these memories staged so deliberately. While the jumps through time might not work for everyone, they perfectly match the film’s tone and rhythm for me.

These sequences invite you into Jay’s inner world, where he reflects on his choices, questions past decisions, and wonders how things might have unfolded differently — not just for him, but for the people whose lives he touched. There’s a bittersweet nostalgia in these moments: joy mixed with regret, humor alongside melancholy. It feels less like watching a film and more like stepping inside his memory, where reality and imagination blur. The combination of Britell’s delicate score, the almost theatrical staging, and Clooney’s deeply nuanced performance elevates each reflection into something genuinely moving, lingering long after the scene ends.

The film also delves into the difficulty of maintaining relationships under the shadow of fame. Jay’s behaviors often drive people away, and when they don’t, he distances himself probably out of fear that no one truly loves him for who he is (but who is Jay Kelly?). A few remain by his side, but as the story unfolds, it becomes painfully clear that loyalty is rare. The only person who never wavers is Ron, his manager.

Adam Sandler delivers a performance of such tenderness and sincerity that it broke my heart more than once. He transcends expectations, showing a remarkable depth that balances warmth, humor, and quiet sorrow, proving himself capable of much more than his comedic reputation suggests.

The story also touches on Jay’s unresolved relationship with his father — a shadow that continues to haunt him. The film never overstates it, but the weight of this tension explains so much about his choices and vulnerabilities. It adds yet another layer to his character, making his search for self-understanding feel all the more fragile, human, and poignant.

George Clooney, a true movie star, makes Jay utterly believable and compelling, his charisma and depth perfectly suited to the role. One of his most vulnerable performances in years. Laura Dern is equally brilliant as Liz, Jay’s publicist, embodying the ultimate “girlboss” with confidence, wit, and warmth.

Jay Kelly is a love letter to cinema itself — a reminder of how deeply films can shape, move, and define us. It’s a meditation on life and choices, and a showcase of remarkable performances. Baumbach delivers a film that is funny, moving, and thoughtful.

Grade: A

Oscar Prospects:
Likely: Best Picture, Best Supporting Actor (Adam Sandler), Best Original Score, Best Casting
Should be Considered: Best Director, Best Original Screenplay

Release Date: In Select Theaters on November 14th; Streaming on Netflix on December 5th