In Jay Kelly, Noah Baumbach offers a portrait of a man in crisis — not a real, relatable crisis, but the kind that only exists in the minds of white aging rich men and their favorite screenwriters. George Clooney plays Jay Kelly, a mega-famous film star in his 60s who suddenly begins to feel things. But rather than interrogating power, privilege, or generational disconnect, the film simply asks us to pity him. Pity the man with mansions, staff, private jets, and a tribute ceremony in Italy — because he’s lonely. ????
It’s narcissism disguised as melancholy.nIt’s patriarchy rebranded as reflection.
The plot kicks off when Jay runs into his old acting school friend, Tim (played by Billy Crudup) — a man whose opportunity he once stole by accidentally landing a role he was auditioning for. The encounter triggers a minor guilt spiral, just as Jay is about to start a two-week break before shooting his next film.
And so, in true rich-man-in-a-mood fashion, he suddenly decides to fly to Europe — on a whim. And of course, his entire entourage of four to six grown adults, including his manager Ron (played by Adam Sandler), must instantly stop whatever they’re doing to make it happen. A private jet is arranged. Lives are rearranged. All so Jay can go chase some vague emotional closure he doesn’t even understand.
And talking about the jet — Jay doesn’t just book a flight for his staff. He curates a theatrical exit. In one of the most self-indulgent moments of the film, we see him playing his grand piano — as it’s being loaded onto the plane. Yes. The piano.
The scene is framed through the eyes of Ron, and plays with a touch of absurdist comedy. But the film still insists on casting Jay as a sentimental man-child who just feels a little too much — too tender, too lost, too artistic to fly without his music.
But as one of the regular folks? I knew right then: I would never feel sorry for this guy. The sheer level of wealth and unbothered privilege leaking out of that one image — piano, jet, staff at his beck and call — said everything I needed to know. He’s not in crisis. He’s cosplaying as vulnerable from inside a luxury bubble.
Normie Fetish, Hero Complex, and the Fake-European Fantasy
Once in Europe, the film detaches from reality entirely and slips into nostalgic delusion. Jay learns his daughter is riding a regular train, so he insists his whole entourage board it with him. His staff scrambles while Jay drifts down the aisle like an enlightened tourist, basking in the authenticity of the "real world." Then it gets weird: passengers recognize him — not with polite curiosity, but with full, fairy-tale awe. They ask questions, smile wide-eyed, and react with childlike reverence.
The setting isn't incidental. It's escapism.
By relocating to Europe — to quaint trains, Italian countryside, the film constructs a fantasy where 2025 doesn't exist. Where social media hasn't flattened celebrity into accessibility. Where TikTok hasn't made "fame" something a teenager can acquire in a week. Where #MeToo didn't reframe how we view powerful white men. The film retreats to a geography where it can pretend Old Hollywood hierarchies still function, where white American movie stars are still treated like visiting dignitaries, where "normal people" are so starved for glamour they react to celebrities like awestruck peasants.
It's a theme park. A carefully curated time capsule where George Clooney-type stardom still feels sacred.
The train isn't just a train — it's a stage set for a world that no longer exists. Europe becomes shorthand for "a place where we still matter," where the old rules still apply, where fame commands automatic deference instead of ironic distance or algorithmic indifference. The film can't make this fantasy work in Los Angeles in 2025, so it relocates to a romanticized elsewhere.
It's shot with a comedic tone, but the underlying message is clear: even among "normal people," Jay is still the center of the universe.
This isn't about connection. It's about control. Regular people are infantilized — turned into props who exist to admire Jay and affirm his continued worth. It's not warmth; it's fetishization of working-class simplicity. Jay's smiley train ride becomes a kind of fantasy tourism, indulging in a dream where movie stars are still gods and the "common folk" exist just to applaud.
Later, he even gets a ridiculous hero moment — chasing down a thief and returning a stolen bag to a sweet elderly French woman who kisses his cheek. The scene ends with a local news report praising him. It's absurd, self-mythologizing, and painfully transparent. The film mourns not Jay's relevance, but the loss of a time when audiences worshipped white male stars without question — and it desperately wants that era back.
Male Narcissism, Disguised as Depth
Jay Kelly isn’t a film about a man trying to change. It’s a film about a man who wants to feel bad about not changing — and be applauded for the effort.
Meanwhile, his manager Ron is sacrificing everything — his family, his time, his emotional energy — to care for Jay like a frustrated parent. After a heated argument where Ron questions whether he’s anything more than “just staff,” Jay shrugs him off with something like, “You take 15% of everything I do.” It’s meant to be witty, but it’s the most honest moment in the film. Jay doesn’t see people — not Ron, not Jessica — as individuals. He sees them as props orbiting his emotional weather system.
And yet Ron still stays. Still supports him. Still stands by him at the tribute. And in return, he’s given the most emotionally intimate scene in the entire film.
In what can only be described as a romanticized act of male emotional codependence, Ron applies Jay’s makeup. He gently touches up his bruises. Darkens his eyebrows. It’s slow motion. Warm lighting. Close-ups. Sentimental music. The entire scene is filmed like a lovers’ reconciliation.
Which, in a way, it is — they’ve just had a fight. Now they’re doing makeup.n Literal makeup after emotional makeup!
It’s more romantic than anything Jay shares with a woman. Because that’s the heart of this film: he doesn’t grow as a father. He doesn’t meaningfully reconnect with his daughters. He doesn’t love any woman. He just wants validation from one man who hasn’t left him.
Jay chases emotional approval from his father — literally sprinting after his car when the man leaves early and refuses to stay for the tribute. But he doesn’t do the same for Jessica. Her forgiveness is optional. Her letter? Walked out on. But Daddy not clapping at the right time? That's the real trauma.
In one scene, another actor, Ben Alcock (Patrick Wilson), says: “Two white guys getting a tribute in Italy these days? That’s rare.” It’s delivered like a winking meta-joke. But it lands like real talk — the clearest expression of what this movie actually mourns: not family, not youth, but the slow death of white male reverence.
Even Baumbach’s real-life wife, Greta Gerwig — one of the most relevant and talked-about directors in 2025 — appears in this film only as Ron’s wife, a voice on the phone. The woman behind Barbie and Little Women reduced to the most basic stereotype: the “supportive wife on the line.” It’s both ironic and telling.
Because Jay Kelly doesn’t care about women’s stories, or even men’s growth. It cares about one thing: making male fragility look noble again.
Final Thoughts: A Pity Party for an Old White Man
The film ends, of course, with the tribute — a grand emotional climax dripping with dramatic music, misty lighting, and intercut footage of Jay’s “iconic roles,” which are clearly stand-ins for George Clooney’s real-life filmography. Onscreen, Clooney and Sandler both look emotional. The soundtrack swells. We’re shown a memory of Jay’s two daughters as little girls putting on a home theater performance — one of the only times we see them as happy kids. Jay watches fondly, remembering how he had to leave that night for work. A bittersweet sacrifice. A noble wound.
Or so the film wants you to think.
What it’s actually saying is this: Yes, I traumatized my kids. But I gave you — the audience — such beautiful memories in exchange.As if starring in beloved films somehow cancels out neglecting your children. As if emotional absence can be repackaged as cultural contribution.
You’re not a firefighter!! You’re not a soldier!!!nYou’re a man who lives in a mansion with a full-time staff. No one owes you tears for the “burden” of your success. ????
And yet the film insists on canonizing him — a man who gave up very little, hurt plenty, and still wants to be thanked for everything. The entire emotional finale is so shamelessly gendered it’s laughable: daughters reduced to poetic regret, the old cartoonishly sweet French lady from the train shows up to beam at him like he saved France, and the actress he once had a fling with materializes as a vision in the crowd — a literal ghost of missed romantic potential. Because, of course, even the romance he didn’t have still exists to make him look noble.
Women in Jay Kelly aren’t characters. They’re mirrors — there to reflect Jay’s supposed greatness back at him one last time before the curtain falls.
And that, ultimately, is the tragedy this film doesn’t mean to reveal:nNot the fading of a man, but the fading of a worldview — where white male ego was mistaken for depth, and everyone else existed to worship it.
Baumbach is our premier architect of the “intelligently managed meltdown" on the USA soils. For over three decades, he has specialized in the friction between what Americans think they are (brilliant, singular, essentially good) and what they actually are (petty, terrified of aging, and probably annoying at dinner parties). But with his last two films - the neon-drenched apocalyptic satire WHITE NOISE and the autumnal, meta-existential JAY KELLY - he has distanced himself away from the cramped NYC apartments of his youth and into something grander, weirder, and decidedly more expensive.
To watch these two films back-to-back is to witness a director wrestling with the“big stuff" using a Netflix-sized checkbook. One is a maximalist explosion of postmodern dread; the other is a soft-lit, European train ride into the heart of a movie star’s vacuum. Both are fascinated by the same thing: the noise we make to drown out the sound of the end.
When it was announced that Baumbach would adapt DeLillo’s WHITE NOISE, the collective reaction from the "literary cinema" crowd was a mix of "finally" and "good luck with that." DeLillo’s 1985 novel was long considered unfilmable - not because the plot is complex (it’s basically: a nuclear family of 6’s usual dynamism, ominous cloud appears, man tries to shoot his wife’s drug dealer), but because the language is the main character. Also, Elfman’s strings-and-synths score is intellectually dense but emotionally accessible.
Baumbach’s film version is a hyper-stylized, three-act beast that feels like it is filmed inside a 1980s cereal box. Driver, sporting a prosthetic "Hitler Studies" paunch and a receding hairline that deserves its own billing, plays Prof. Jack Gladney. He’s an academic who has built an empire on the iconography of a dictator despite not speaking a lick of German (including a stimulating, virtuosic duet with Cheadle’s Prof. Murray on both Hitler and Elvis Presley being a mamma’s boy) . Beside him is Babette (a luminous Gerwig, juggling her illustrious career both in front and behind the camera), a woman whose hair is as voluminous as her secret pharmaceutical anxieties. Their liberal union is highlighted by the fact that their four children are from four different marriages and they don’t play favorites.
The film's centerpiece, the "Airborne Toxic Event," is a triumph of tonal whiplash. Baumbach treats a chemical disaster with the visual language of a Spielberg adventure and the dialogue of a philosophy seminar. The Gladneys flee the black cloud in their station wagon, bickering about the nutritional value of their snacks while the world runs amok. It’s funny, it’s loud, and it’s intentionally rhythmic - a "deadpan comedy of catastrophization."
However, WHITE NOISE can only be reckoned as a "middling" masterpiece because it never quite decides if it wants to move you or just impress you. The dialogue is "dense, all over the place, and confusing," mimicking the literal white noise of modern information. By the time we reach the final act - "Dylarama" (where Eidinger is a greasy crackpot as the pusher and Sukowa’s atheist nun is the one from whom you wish to get dressed down) - the film descends into a surreal noir-pastiche that feels a bit like a student film inexplicably carrying a $100 million price tag. It’s splendid and artistic to look at, but it leaves you feeling like you’ve eaten too much colorful candy: a sugar rush followed by a vague sense of existential nausea. That said, the coda with a collective dance number in the supermarket is the capper that lives up to the film’s eccentricity.
If WHITE NOISE is Baumbach’s attempt to capture the noise of a family’s morbid preoccupation, JAY KELLY is his endeavor to capture the silence of a man who has too much of it.
Co-written with Mortimer, JAY KELLY casts Clooney as... well, himself (or a "thinly veiled" version thereof). Jay is a massive movie star finishing a film that feels like a chore. He’s at that stage of celebrity where everyone around him - his harried manager Ron (Sandler) and his publicist Liz (a somehow liverish Dern) - functions as a human buffer zone. When the director who "made" him (Broadbent) dies, and an old acting buddy (Crudup, doing an alchemical job of altering moods and tones) punches him in a parking lot for "stealing his life," Jay hits the eject button.
The film is a "vibes" movie in the most literal sense. Jay abandons a project and flees to Europe to stalk - sorry, "reconnect with"—his teenage daughter Daisy (Edwards). What follows is a lushly photographed journey through Paris and Tuscany that feels like a classic 1960s European travelogue, filtered through the lens of 21st-century regret.
Clooney makes for a fine watch here precisely because he’s playing the "suave, charming older actor who fears he never was an artist of much depth." It’s a meta-performance that uses Clooney’s own public persona as a canvas. Watching him interact with "normal people" on a train is both cringeworthy and somewhat moving; he’s a man trying to remember how to be a person when he’s spent forty years being an icon.
But like WHITE NOISE, JAY KELLY suffers from a certain "cine-narcissism." It’s a movie about the problems of very rich, very famous people, and while Baumbach tries to ground it in the relationship between Jay and his manager Ron (Sandler, in another "Sad-Sandler" tour de force), it often feels a bit like watching a billionaire’s therapy session. The stakes are low, the cinematography is "sterile" in its perfection, and the ending - involving a viral hero moment and a Tuscan film festival - is perhaps a bit too icky for the man who once gives us the raw bile of THE SQUID AND THE WHALE (2005). Plus, among the glut of star cameos, save for Crudup, no one can outshine an utterly harmless Clooney in cruise control.
The connective tissue of these two films is their shared obsession with “The Exit”. In WHITE NOISE, the characters are looking for an exit from mortality. They use consumerism, academic posturing, and mystery pills (Dylar) to pretend that the "Airborne Toxic Event" isn't coming for them eventually. In JAY KELLY, Jay is looking for an exit from himself. He wants to shed the entourage, the contracts, and the "mirrors" to find something authentic, only to realize that he might just be a collection of roles.
WHITE NOISE is the better "movie" – it’s a feat of direction, a patchwork quilt of styles that shouldn't work but somehow does. It’s an intellectual workout. JAY KELLY is the better "experience" – it’s a melancholy, autumnal hug. It’s a movie you watch when you want to feel a specific kind of "a famous person’s blues" while looking at beautiful Italian hills.
Neither film shall be extolled as Baumbach’s best. They lack the serrated insight of FRANCES HA (2012) or the grounded heartbreak of MARRIAGE STORY (2019). Instead, they represent a filmmaker in his“imperial phase"- bold, knowingly self-indulgent, and infinitely curious about the doomsday, whether it is an individual’s elemental fear of the Grim Reaper or a movie star’s existential crisis when he reaches the dog end of his sustained career.
referential entries: Baumbach’s MARGOT AT THE WEDDING (2007, 5.5/10); WHILE WE’RE YOUNG (2014, 6.3/10); MARRIAGE STORY (2019, 7.8/10).
#影星杰·凯利# （ Jay Kell ）（B+）故事并不新鲜，讲述一个大明星中年危机的故事，即使事业成功却发现与身边的人关系都搞砸，后悔没有更多陪伴家人，没有更好对待和回报身边曾经的朋友。但因为是诺亚·鲍姆巴赫 Noah Baumbach的电影，他的故事一向都是诙谐的讽刺小品，不会选择过于黑暗或沉闷的方式，看起来轻松有趣，让人觉得被娱乐的同时也能深切共鸣。n
片中的Jay Kelly举手投足的气质真的很类似克鲁尼本人，让他尽情展示了个人魅力，甚至片中回顾职业生涯的电影片段也都是来自他自己的电影。不过他在记者会上坚持说自己人缘很好，不是男主这么糟糕。亚当·桑德勒 Adam Sandler出演Jay Kelly的经纪人，完全与他之前那些吵闹夸张的角色大不同，是一个很有人情味的暖心角色，很容易获得观众喜爱。
片中还有很多知名演员客串，包括帕特里克·威尔森 Patrick Wilson、劳拉·邓恩 Laura Dern、艾拉·菲舍尔 Isla Fisher、Noah的老婆格蕾塔·葛韦格 Greta Gerwig、吉姆·布劳德本特 Jim Broadbent、路易斯·帕特里奇 Louis Partridge等，有的只有一两句台词，但几乎每个小角色都是个明星，可见Noah的号召力。不少也是多次与他合作的演员。而且本片也真实展示了好莱坞明星平时工作生活的一些细节，也有很漂亮的法国和意大利风景。对于想了解大明星生活的人来说不能错过。n
In Jay Kelly, Noah Baumbach offers a portrait of a man in crisis — not a real, relatable crisis, but the kind that only exists in the minds of white aging rich men and their favorite screenwriters. George Clooney plays Jay Kelly, a mega-famous film star in his 60s who suddenly begins to feel things. But rather than interrogating power, privilege, or generational disconnect, the film simply asks us to pity him. Pity the man with mansions, staff, private jets, and a tribute ceremony in Italy — because he’s lonely. ????
It’s narcissism disguised as melancholy.nIt’s patriarchy rebranded as reflection.
The plot kicks off when Jay runs into his old acting school friend, Tim (played by Billy Crudup) — a man whose opportunity he once stole by accidentally landing a role he was auditioning for. The encounter triggers a minor guilt spiral, just as Jay is about to start a two-week break before shooting his next film.
And so, in true rich-man-in-a-mood fashion, he suddenly decides to fly to Europe — on a whim. And of course, his entire entourage of four to six grown adults, including his manager Ron (played by Adam Sandler), must instantly stop whatever they’re doing to make it happen. A private jet is arranged. Lives are rearranged. All so Jay can go chase some vague emotional closure he doesn’t even understand.
And talking about the jet — Jay doesn’t just book a flight for his staff. He curates a theatrical exit. In one of the most self-indulgent moments of the film, we see him playing his grand piano — as it’s being loaded onto the plane. Yes. The piano.
The scene is framed through the eyes of Ron, and plays with a touch of absurdist comedy. But the film still insists on casting Jay as a sentimental man-child who just feels a little too much — too tender, too lost, too artistic to fly without his music.
But as one of the regular folks? I knew right then: I would never feel sorry for this guy. The sheer level of wealth and unbothered privilege leaking out of that one image — piano, jet, staff at his beck and call — said everything I needed to know. He’s not in crisis. He’s cosplaying as vulnerable from inside a luxury bubble.
Normie Fetish, Hero Complex, and the Fake-European Fantasy
Once in Europe, the film detaches from reality entirely and slips into nostalgic delusion. Jay learns his daughter is riding a regular train, so he insists his whole entourage board it with him. His staff scrambles while Jay drifts down the aisle like an enlightened tourist, basking in the authenticity of the "real world." Then it gets weird: passengers recognize him — not with polite curiosity, but with full, fairy-tale awe. They ask questions, smile wide-eyed, and react with childlike reverence.
The setting isn't incidental. It's escapism.
By relocating to Europe — to quaint trains, Italian countryside, the film constructs a fantasy where 2025 doesn't exist. Where social media hasn't flattened celebrity into accessibility. Where TikTok hasn't made "fame" something a teenager can acquire in a week. Where #MeToo didn't reframe how we view powerful white men. The film retreats to a geography where it can pretend Old Hollywood hierarchies still function, where white American movie stars are still treated like visiting dignitaries, where "normal people" are so starved for glamour they react to celebrities like awestruck peasants.
It's a theme park. A carefully curated time capsule where George Clooney-type stardom still feels sacred.
The train isn't just a train — it's a stage set for a world that no longer exists. Europe becomes shorthand for "a place where we still matter," where the old rules still apply, where fame commands automatic deference instead of ironic distance or algorithmic indifference. The film can't make this fantasy work in Los Angeles in 2025, so it relocates to a romanticized elsewhere.
It's shot with a comedic tone, but the underlying message is clear: even among "normal people," Jay is still the center of the universe.
This isn't about connection. It's about control. Regular people are infantilized — turned into props who exist to admire Jay and affirm his continued worth. It's not warmth; it's fetishization of working-class simplicity. Jay's smiley train ride becomes a kind of fantasy tourism, indulging in a dream where movie stars are still gods and the "common folk" exist just to applaud.
Later, he even gets a ridiculous hero moment — chasing down a thief and returning a stolen bag to a sweet elderly French woman who kisses his cheek. The scene ends with a local news report praising him. It's absurd, self-mythologizing, and painfully transparent. The film mourns not Jay's relevance, but the loss of a time when audiences worshipped white male stars without question — and it desperately wants that era back.
Male Narcissism, Disguised as Depth
Jay Kelly isn’t a film about a man trying to change. It’s a film about a man who wants to feel bad about not changing — and be applauded for the effort.
Meanwhile, his manager Ron is sacrificing everything — his family, his time, his emotional energy — to care for Jay like a frustrated parent. After a heated argument where Ron questions whether he’s anything more than “just staff,” Jay shrugs him off with something like, “You take 15% of everything I do.” It’s meant to be witty, but it’s the most honest moment in the film. Jay doesn’t see people — not Ron, not Jessica — as individuals. He sees them as props orbiting his emotional weather system.
And yet Ron still stays. Still supports him. Still stands by him at the tribute. And in return, he’s given the most emotionally intimate scene in the entire film.
In what can only be described as a romanticized act of male emotional codependence, Ron applies Jay’s makeup. He gently touches up his bruises. Darkens his eyebrows. It’s slow motion. Warm lighting. Close-ups. Sentimental music. The entire scene is filmed like a lovers’ reconciliation.
Which, in a way, it is — they’ve just had a fight. Now they’re doing makeup.n Literal makeup after emotional makeup!
It’s more romantic than anything Jay shares with a woman. Because that’s the heart of this film: he doesn’t grow as a father. He doesn’t meaningfully reconnect with his daughters. He doesn’t love any woman. He just wants validation from one man who hasn’t left him.
Jay chases emotional approval from his father — literally sprinting after his car when the man leaves early and refuses to stay for the tribute. But he doesn’t do the same for Jessica. Her forgiveness is optional. Her letter? Walked out on. But Daddy not clapping at the right time? That's the real trauma.
In one scene, another actor, Ben Alcock (Patrick Wilson), says: “Two white guys getting a tribute in Italy these days? That’s rare.” It’s delivered like a winking meta-joke. But it lands like real talk — the clearest expression of what this movie actually mourns: not family, not youth, but the slow death of white male reverence.
Even Baumbach’s real-life wife, Greta Gerwig — one of the most relevant and talked-about directors in 2025 — appears in this film only as Ron’s wife, a voice on the phone. The woman behind Barbie and Little Women reduced to the most basic stereotype: the “supportive wife on the line.” It’s both ironic and telling.
Because Jay Kelly doesn’t care about women’s stories, or even men’s growth. It cares about one thing: making male fragility look noble again.
Final Thoughts: A Pity Party for an Old White Man
The film ends, of course, with the tribute — a grand emotional climax dripping with dramatic music, misty lighting, and intercut footage of Jay’s “iconic roles,” which are clearly stand-ins for George Clooney’s real-life filmography. Onscreen, Clooney and Sandler both look emotional. The soundtrack swells. We’re shown a memory of Jay’s two daughters as little girls putting on a home theater performance — one of the only times we see them as happy kids. Jay watches fondly, remembering how he had to leave that night for work. A bittersweet sacrifice. A noble wound.
Or so the film wants you to think.
What it’s actually saying is this: Yes, I traumatized my kids. But I gave you — the audience — such beautiful memories in exchange. As if starring in beloved films somehow cancels out neglecting your children. As if emotional absence can be repackaged as cultural contribution.
You’re not a firefighter!! You’re not a soldier!!!nYou’re a man who lives in a mansion with a full-time staff. No one owes you tears for the “burden” of your success. ????
And yet the film insists on canonizing him — a man who gave up very little, hurt plenty, and still wants to be thanked for everything. The entire emotional finale is so shamelessly gendered it’s laughable: daughters reduced to poetic regret, the old cartoonishly sweet French lady from the train shows up to beam at him like he saved France, and the actress he once had a fling with materializes as a vision in the crowd — a literal ghost of missed romantic potential. Because, of course, even the romance he didn’t have still exists to make him look noble.
Women in Jay Kelly aren’t characters. They’re mirrors — there to reflect Jay’s supposed greatness back at him one last time before the curtain falls.
And that, ultimately, is the tragedy this film doesn’t mean to reveal:nNot the fading of a man, but the fading of a worldview — where white male ego was mistaken for depth, and everyone else existed to worship it.
堪称年度最豪华的卡司之一！各路明星轮番上阵真是意料不到的惊喜 鲍姆巴赫怎么也开始未老先衰了 拍起这种暮气沉沉的忆往昔故事 叙事虽然老套吧但看起来至少流畅且人物都塑造得十分真实可信 整体看下来并没有那么糟糕 不过确实是有点太冗长了 如果再删减一些会更好 最值得玩味的是乔治克鲁尼这个选角 真不知道是他的演技如此高深让观众由衷地信服、无法对这个角色感到同情 还就是他本人的本色出演让人们对这个再精准合适不过、以他形象为蓝本的老年巨婴明星角色感到厌烦 因为本人克鲁尼数十年来的银幕形象始终给人一种自负、骄傲、充满着令人讨厌的优越感的感觉 不得不说这个选角真的非常的巧妙 但同样也可能因此而遭到敌视 不过最后的混剪还是非常动人的 而亚当桑德勒则真的太棒了 完全值得一个最佳男配提名 整部电影看起来像是鲍姆巴赫/克鲁尼写给自己后代的一个父亲成长缺席保险预案和提前辩护书 充满着一种生怕被误解而主动出击的自我保护 而非发自内心的告解信 最后综合看起来不知这样的表态是一种真诚还是一种因死亡而产生的恐惧驱动下矫饰虚伪的惺惺作态
Baumbach is our premier architect of the “intelligently managed meltdown" on the USA soils. For over three decades, he has specialized in the friction between what Americans think they are (brilliant, singular, essentially good) and what they actually are (petty, terrified of aging, and probably annoying at dinner parties). But with his last two films - the neon-drenched apocalyptic satire WHITE NOISE and the autumnal, meta-existential JAY KELLY - he has distanced himself away from the cramped NYC apartments of his youth and into something grander, weirder, and decidedly more expensive.
To watch these two films back-to-back is to witness a director wrestling with the“big stuff" using a Netflix-sized checkbook. One is a maximalist explosion of postmodern dread; the other is a soft-lit, European train ride into the heart of a movie star’s vacuum. Both are fascinated by the same thing: the noise we make to drown out the sound of the end.
When it was announced that Baumbach would adapt DeLillo’s WHITE NOISE, the collective reaction from the "literary cinema" crowd was a mix of "finally" and "good luck with that." DeLillo’s 1985 novel was long considered unfilmable - not because the plot is complex (it’s basically: a nuclear family of 6’s usual dynamism, ominous cloud appears, man tries to shoot his wife’s drug dealer), but because the language is the main character. Also, Elfman’s strings-and-synths score is intellectually dense but emotionally accessible.
Baumbach’s film version is a hyper-stylized, three-act beast that feels like it is filmed inside a 1980s cereal box. Driver, sporting a prosthetic "Hitler Studies" paunch and a receding hairline that deserves its own billing, plays Prof. Jack Gladney. He’s an academic who has built an empire on the iconography of a dictator despite not speaking a lick of German (including a stimulating, virtuosic duet with Cheadle’s Prof. Murray on both Hitler and Elvis Presley being a mamma’s boy) . Beside him is Babette (a luminous Gerwig, juggling her illustrious career both in front and behind the camera), a woman whose hair is as voluminous as her secret pharmaceutical anxieties. Their liberal union is highlighted by the fact that their four children are from four different marriages and they don’t play favorites.
The film's centerpiece, the "Airborne Toxic Event," is a triumph of tonal whiplash. Baumbach treats a chemical disaster with the visual language of a Spielberg adventure and the dialogue of a philosophy seminar. The Gladneys flee the black cloud in their station wagon, bickering about the nutritional value of their snacks while the world runs amok. It’s funny, it’s loud, and it’s intentionally rhythmic - a "deadpan comedy of catastrophization."
However, WHITE NOISE can only be reckoned as a "middling" masterpiece because it never quite decides if it wants to move you or just impress you. The dialogue is "dense, all over the place, and confusing," mimicking the literal white noise of modern information. By the time we reach the final act - "Dylarama" (where Eidinger is a greasy crackpot as the pusher and Sukowa’s atheist nun is the one from whom you wish to get dressed down) - the film descends into a surreal noir-pastiche that feels a bit like a student film inexplicably carrying a $100 million price tag. It’s splendid and artistic to look at, but it leaves you feeling like you’ve eaten too much colorful candy: a sugar rush followed by a vague sense of existential nausea. That said, the coda with a collective dance number in the supermarket is the capper that lives up to the film’s eccentricity.
If WHITE NOISE is Baumbach’s attempt to capture the noise of a family’s morbid preoccupation, JAY KELLY is his endeavor to capture the silence of a man who has too much of it.
Co-written with Mortimer, JAY KELLY casts Clooney as... well, himself (or a "thinly veiled" version thereof). Jay is a massive movie star finishing a film that feels like a chore. He’s at that stage of celebrity where everyone around him - his harried manager Ron (Sandler) and his publicist Liz (a somehow liverish Dern) - functions as a human buffer zone. When the director who "made" him (Broadbent) dies, and an old acting buddy (Crudup, doing an alchemical job of altering moods and tones) punches him in a parking lot for "stealing his life," Jay hits the eject button.
The film is a "vibes" movie in the most literal sense. Jay abandons a project and flees to Europe to stalk - sorry, "reconnect with"—his teenage daughter Daisy (Edwards). What follows is a lushly photographed journey through Paris and Tuscany that feels like a classic 1960s European travelogue, filtered through the lens of 21st-century regret.
Clooney makes for a fine watch here precisely because he’s playing the "suave, charming older actor who fears he never was an artist of much depth." It’s a meta-performance that uses Clooney’s own public persona as a canvas. Watching him interact with "normal people" on a train is both cringeworthy and somewhat moving; he’s a man trying to remember how to be a person when he’s spent forty years being an icon.
But like WHITE NOISE, JAY KELLY suffers from a certain "cine-narcissism." It’s a movie about the problems of very rich, very famous people, and while Baumbach tries to ground it in the relationship between Jay and his manager Ron (Sandler, in another "Sad-Sandler" tour de force), it often feels a bit like watching a billionaire’s therapy session. The stakes are low, the cinematography is "sterile" in its perfection, and the ending - involving a viral hero moment and a Tuscan film festival - is perhaps a bit too icky for the man who once gives us the raw bile of THE SQUID AND THE WHALE (2005). Plus, among the glut of star cameos, save for Crudup, no one can outshine an utterly harmless Clooney in cruise control.
The connective tissue of these two films is their shared obsession with “The Exit”. In WHITE NOISE, the characters are looking for an exit from mortality. They use consumerism, academic posturing, and mystery pills (Dylar) to pretend that the "Airborne Toxic Event" isn't coming for them eventually. In JAY KELLY, Jay is looking for an exit from himself. He wants to shed the entourage, the contracts, and the "mirrors" to find something authentic, only to realize that he might just be a collection of roles.
WHITE NOISE is the better "movie" – it’s a feat of direction, a patchwork quilt of styles that shouldn't work but somehow does. It’s an intellectual workout. JAY KELLY is the better "experience" – it’s a melancholy, autumnal hug. It’s a movie you watch when you want to feel a specific kind of "a famous person’s blues" while looking at beautiful Italian hills.
Neither film shall be extolled as Baumbach’s best. They lack the serrated insight of FRANCES HA (2012) or the grounded heartbreak of MARRIAGE STORY (2019). Instead, they represent a filmmaker in his“imperial phase"- bold, knowingly self-indulgent, and infinitely curious about the doomsday, whether it is an individual’s elemental fear of the Grim Reaper or a movie star’s existential crisis when he reaches the dog end of his sustained career.
referential entries: Baumbach’s MARGOT AT THE WEDDING (2007, 5.5/10); WHILE WE’RE YOUNG (2014, 6.3/10); MARRIAGE STORY (2019, 7.8/10).
#影星杰·凯利# （ Jay Kell ）（B+）故事并不新鲜，讲述一个大明星中年危机的故事，即使事业成功却发现与身边的人关系都搞砸，后悔没有更多陪伴家人，没有更好对待和回报身边曾经的朋友。但因为是诺亚·鲍姆巴赫 Noah Baumbach的电影，他的故事一向都是诙谐的讽刺小品，不会选择过于黑暗或沉闷的方式，看起来轻松有趣，让人觉得被娱乐的同时也能深切共鸣。n
讲述这类大明星为了事业变得自私、不顾家庭或人际关系的故事很多，但每个导演呈现的方式都不同。有的会加入酒精药品类的内容，让角色的生活变得更为混乱不堪。但诺亚·鲍姆巴赫的电影一向都是轻喜剧风格，没有太多怪异又抽风的内容这也是我喜欢的原因，比较适合我的口味。也就是说他本身不是重口味的电影人，所以端上来的菜都清爽可口。而且他往往对电影、娱乐业有深入的观察，希望能呈现明星光环背后各种不尽如人意的一面，特别是关注家庭关系。n
我感觉是因为他自己也曾有过离婚的背景，内心总觉得有愧疚感，而且他一直在这个产业保持很小资、低调的态度，并不是很喜欢这个名利场，但又能深深了解身在其中、成为名人的滋味。在这部电影里，乔治克鲁尼出演的大明星事业并未遇到危机，但因为很红开始变得飘飘然，淡漠人情世故，在过去追逐事业的过程中曾伤害到很多人，包括他的老朋友、导师、妻子、孩子，甚至也忽略了身边默默支持他拥护他的工作人员，一路留下很多遗憾。在他即将被表彰、颁发终身成就奖时，他才发现自己虽然习惯于被很多人簇拥、被人知晓，但其实孤独的，因为根本没有真正他在乎的人愿意庆祝他的事业，愿意分享他的成就。他给观众带来了很多，却毁掉了与身边人的关系。n
我相信这个故事会让好莱坞很多业内人士以及大明星有共鸣，不少艺术家都容易投入到事业中，习惯了被簇拥、被宠爱，而忘记同样爱和关心别人。他们往往会觉得自己是太阳，其他人都围着他们转，但有的人会因此离开，因为每个人都需要被爱和关怀，人与人之间的感情，不管是亲情、爱情还是友情都是需要维护的。妮可基德曼最近离婚的经历其实就是本片故事的真实写照，她就是因为工作太多，到了中年依然太忙碌，不再顾忌家庭和丈夫，婚姻才破裂的。也许她会对本片产生强烈共鸣。无论男女，事业与家庭有时真的很难平衡。n
片中的Jay Kelly举手投足的气质真的很类似克鲁尼本人，让他尽情展示了个人魅力，甚至片中回顾职业生涯的电影片段也都是来自他自己的电影。不过他在记者会上坚持说自己人缘很好，不是男主这么糟糕。亚当·桑德勒 Adam Sandler出演Jay Kelly的经纪人，完全与他之前那些吵闹夸张的角色大不同，是一个很有人情味的暖心角色，很容易获得观众喜爱。
片中还有很多知名演员客串，包括帕特里克·威尔森 Patrick Wilson、劳拉·邓恩 Laura Dern、艾拉·菲舍尔 Isla Fisher、Noah的老婆格蕾塔·葛韦格 Greta Gerwig、吉姆·布劳德本特 Jim Broadbent、路易斯·帕特里奇 Louis Partridge等，有的只有一两句台词，但几乎每个小角色都是个明星，可见Noah的号召力。不少也是多次与他合作的演员。而且本片也真实展示了好莱坞明星平时工作生活的一些细节，也有很漂亮的法国和意大利风景。对于想了解大明星生活的人来说不能错过。n
我最喜欢本片的是Jay Kelly回顾一生中曾经的各种遗憾，对于中老年观众来说，看到也会不自觉想起自己曾经的过往。有那些朋友已经早就不联系，有那些亲人已经疏离，曾经那些人错过，哪些关系是一直以来的心结。。。不少都没办法修复，也可能并不需要修复。但这种对过去的回忆和梳理确实是人到中年常常会有的。不过其实就算重来一次，人生还是会留下很多遗憾，还是更应该珍惜拥有和获得的。n
整体感觉就是片子拍得很美很吸引人，卡司强大，也带来了怀旧和思考，只是感觉并没有那么强的新鲜感。不过还是非常开心看到克鲁尼的回归。n
minmn
没想到临近年末还有这么一部细腻而真挚的，从一个演员，或者说明星身份作为切入点来刻画人内心矛盾和碰撞的电影，并且来自一对我从来没有设想过的组合：乔治克鲁尼和亚当桑德勒。
在此之前很难想像这两个风格调性完全不同的演员会碰撞出怎样的效果。一定要说他们之间有什么共性，我只能想到这两个人都很有钱。同在这个行业摸爬滚打了一辈子；同样从表演、到创作、以及投资制片；最后同样跻身亿万收入俱乐部，成为好莱坞年收入榜常驻前十的大佬。从任何意义上说，在如今的好莱坞这两位都算是根正苗红的老资格了。而本片也几乎是他们现实生活的夸张演绎：克鲁尼演的男主杰凯利是德高望重举世皆知的老牌明星，桑德勒则是他前后打点、左右协调，把他照顾得无微不至的王牌经纪人。
粗看之下剧情似乎并无新意：光鲜亮丽几十年的大明星内心空虚，被同学质疑后陷入自我怀疑；惊觉几十年空有锦衣玉食浮名虚利，到头来落得时光虚度内心孤寂；于是放下工作打乱排期，试图修复疏远隔阂的家庭关系；在旅途中一路回顾来时印记，探寻心中失落已久的存在意义。
似乎好莱坞总是放不下这样的精英情节，一边描述着社会顶层人士穷奢极欲的生活方式，一边还要给他们营造一个内心破碎而自卑的人设。这对于习惯了宏大叙事的普通观众来说似乎很难共情，就像郭麒麟的相声段子：我爸跟我说，你以为有钱就好吗？你以为爸爸像你想象的那么快乐吗？你错了，爸的快乐你想象不到。
然而事实远非如此。故事的成败往往取决于创作者讲故事的能力。放在电影里其实就是导演选择的呈现手法和演员提供的表演深度。一个会讲故事的导演，比一个优秀的故事本身更加重要。
我也一度以为这又是所谓“献给好莱坞的一封情书”这种近来来愈加泛滥的命题作文，但看到后面发现，抛开明星这一层角色形象，电影呈现出来的其实是一个人真实而细腻的自我怀疑、纠结不安、在迷茫和惶恐中试图寻求内心认同的状态。这样的心态可以出现在任何一个人的身上。2018年本斯蒂勒的《你好布拉德》就是这样一个故事，只是从一个普通人的视角展开。这一次导演则选取了一个明星的身份作为切入，显得愈加讽刺、强烈和反差。
人都是会迷茫的，尤其是当你获得了超出你预想的名誉、财富、期待值、信任度等一系列基于他人的外在资源时。并且随着你积累的身外之物越来越多、随着你的树立起来的人设越来越稳、随着你打破形象的成本越来越高、随着你维持姿态的必要性越来越大，这样的迷茫会像滚雪球一样积累、凝结，最终变成巨大的内心压力。
是雪球总会滚爆的，尤其是当你认为自己获取的一切并非心安理得的时候。
对于主角来说正是如此。他最大的自我怀疑就来自于，他当年被意外选中并一战成名的机会，是自己在戏剧学校的朋友求而不得的名额。
生活往往就是这样讽刺。当年朋友一心想试镜这个角色，把他拉去配合对词。结果朋友因为紧张落选，他却因为表演天赋和即兴发挥被导演一眼看中，靠着这部叫《蔓越莓街》的电影自此成名。
你不得不承认有的人就是这样，他有天赋、有欲望、有胆识，然而偏偏就是欠一个机会。相比于朋友捉襟见肘紧张忘词，他天生自带舞台感，愿意被人看到。在台上的从容、松弛、自信，以及张口就来的即兴发挥就是他最大的优势。人们常说机会给有准备的人，但很多时候机会只是降临到刚好合适的那个人，哪怕他从来不曾准备。
他只是抓住了这个机会。
机缘巧合也好，阴差阳错也罢，被选中的那天成为了命运的岔路口。从此一人扶摇直上、追捧无数；一人郁郁寡欢，求而不得。本该陪衬者拿到别人梦寐以求的剧本，志在必得者则转身离去、泯然众人。和现实中的表演系一样，班上每个人都曾做着一夜成名的梦想，最后混出头的往往只有其中一二，其余不是在行业里沦为边缘，就是彻底转行离去。真实而残忍。
客观来看，他并没有偷走朋友什么，这一切都是他自己争取来的。然而这终究是别人的梦想。因此尽管他在这条路上走得平步青云、万众瞩目，在心里这终究是个坎。就像现实中那些靠着市场的机遇和时代的风口一夜暴富的富商巨贾往往拼命想要证明自己的实力一样，他这些年在演艺行业临渊履薄铢积寸累，都只是他试图说服自己当初并非运气使然的努力。
但事实已成，无论他做什么，决定命运的那一天永远无法改变。他终其一生都只能带着这种纠结和拧巴的心态生活下去。
也正因如此，当酒过三巡老同学指责他偷走了自己的人生时，他如此不甘心，又如此难过。嘴上拒绝承认，心里又无法完全否决。对朋友来说，主角过着自己想要的生活，尽管这生活未必就该是自己的；而对于主角，朋友戳破了现实，他功成名就宏图大展的背后，是捉襟见肘空无一物的人际关系，老婆离了，女儿说他坏话，跟老爹关系又不好，身边唯一对他推心置腹的，是分走他一成五收入的经纪人。他永远不知道对方是真拿他当朋友，还是只想挣点钱。
旧事重提、相看两厌，索性甩开膀子打一场。他和朋友打得两败俱伤。朋友那一拳与其说打在他脸上，不如说击中了他这些年的心魔。身上的伤几天就能好，内心的防线一旦破裂只会一发不可收拾。
老导演的去世、老同学的反目，最终汇聚成他长久以来想要跳出这种生活的最后一根稻草。因此第二天他找了个借口取消计划，决定去欧洲找女儿时，其实是第一次试图逃离这个持续了半辈子的生活方式。
之前看过一本小说，孙悟空找菩提祖师修行的名额本来是六耳猕猴的，是花果山的老猴子买通了菩提祖师的HR，挤掉了六耳，换成了孙悟空。六耳因为这次机遇的丧失陷入几百年的心魔，认为孙悟空后来的一切都该是自己的；而向来自负笃定的孙悟空在得知真相后则第一次对自己是否配得到如今的地位产生了怀疑。
电影用了大量的细节描写和精湛的台词对话来刻画别人视角下的他，与他对自己的审视形成鲜明的对比。由观众来判断哪些是他眼中的自己，哪些则是别人的客观认知。在他的概念里，自己成熟、自信而笃定，比如他断言自己从不喜欢芝士蛋糕却为何总是给他端上来，亚当饰演的经纪人罗恩则很确定地说就是他自己在合作条款里明确要加的，恰恰证明了他并不像自己以为的那么坚定。
这种自卑、敏感、自我否定的心态才是他真正的底色，就像他即便已经功成名就，还像刚入行时一样，每拍完一场戏都要求要再来一次，总觉得自己还能更好。这种对于自我内心的不认可贯穿了他一整个人生。
反而是所谓洒脱果断、说一不二的上流精英形象，才是为了掩盖长久的自我怀疑所营造出来的伪装。正如在学生时代的戏剧班里，他上台展现自己的“王者风范”，而老师却让他演一个肯塔基州来的穷小子。他说，这不就是让我演我本人吗？老师反问道，你知道演好自己有多难吗？
重看这一段的时候意识到编剧的台词有多么精准，几乎每一句话都振聋发聩地切中电影的内核。我想男主后来回忆当初老师给他的这段评价时恐怕也是这个感受。用老师的话说，演员是靠谎言存活的，在银幕上他演的是角色，在银幕外他演的则是自己。以至于到最后，他迷失在其中，再也无法分辨哪些是真实，哪些是演绎。
类似的段落在电影里比比皆是。他为了去见女儿跑去挤欧洲的绿皮火车，想观察和融入普通人中，获得别人的认可来平抚自我认知的错乱；他对着镜子反复念着自己和其他演员的名字，试图剥离掉主观身份，从一个旁观者的视角审视自我；他见义勇为冲上去追截一个抢包的人、他邀请全车厢的粉丝共同参加他的致敬晚会，都只是想证明给自己，他不只是一个永远在伪装的演员，而是一个真实的人。
但他终究没能做到。大女儿说他是行尸走肉一具空壳，小女儿说他无时无刻不在表演；父亲被他用专机大老远接来，没等到举办典礼就意兴阑珊兀自离去，自己多年的团队则因为他无心工作而各奔东西。直到一直以来对他最有耐心、最无微不至的经纪人也跟他一拍两散，他才意识到，自己孤身一人，在虚无飘渺的光鲜亮丽和无穷无尽的自我怀疑中辗转反侧、入地无门。
演员当久了，就没人知道你是真的动感情，还是把人生当成另一场戏。
他的生活就是由一场又一场的电影拼接而成的。女儿的出生年份他都是靠成名作《蔓越莓街》上映的年份作为参考来记忆。可这么多年过去，他终于抛开电影时才意识到，自己已经失去了身边的每一个人。曾经他的人生是老同学求而不得的，但如今他真的有了一切，这些对他来说似乎又失去了原本的价值。老同学说，自己最大的错误就是带他去试镜，但至少现在可以天天接孩子放学；帕特里克威尔森同样来参加致敬典礼，带来的亲戚塞满了三辆面包车。
不管有了多少东西，最终羡慕的，都还是自己没有的，以及已经舍弃的。
依稀想到当年他《在云端》那部电影里的经典角色，有朝一日终于攒够了朝思暮想的千万飞行里程，却怅然若失，再也回不去遇到女主之前那种心无旁骛、濠濮间想的心境。人总是等到目标实现的那一天，才意识到这一路上的代价究竟有多大。
在他从影35年的致敬典礼上，导演打破第四面墙，用乔治克鲁尼大量真实的电影素材拼凑出主角的电影生涯。从《逃狱三王》到《辛瑞那》，从《迈克尔克莱顿》到《在云端》，以及《美国人》《末日戒备》这些角色形象大相迥异的作品。这一刻你很难不把这样一个角色与克鲁尼本人联系起来。在现实中他同样是从肯塔基州来的穷小子，但又常年给人一种刻板印象的好莱坞精英阶层的气质。尽管现实中的克鲁尼并不至于像电影男主那样心魔附体众叛亲离，可芸芸众生，抛开戏剧化的夸张，谁又能说在他身上完全看不到自己的影子。
银幕上，男主杰凯利三十多年的从影生涯被浓缩成五分钟的混剪，显得如此轻描淡写，不值一提；坐席间，他恍若看到自己一路走来身边所有人都陪他站在生涯顶峰：有命运还未曾展开时等待试镜的朋友和自己；有《蔓越莓街》已经故去的老导演；有绿皮车上一路同行的普通观众，也有朝夕相处如今却各奔天涯的后勤团队；以及相对无言、各自安好的两个女儿。
但如今只有他自己。身边唯一的同伴是被他诚恳道歉勉强挽回的经纪人罗恩。可没人知道他们是真的同甘共苦肝胆相照，还是别无选择下的交浅言深各有所图。他演了一辈子的电影，最后把自己演成一场公路片。所有人相遇、同行、分手、离去，等到历尽坎坷抵达终点的那一刻，终点却成了这一路上最无足轻重的一环。
时光似星奔川骛，往事如蹑景追飞；漫长的演艺生涯转瞬即逝，经年的迷茫岁月五味杂陈。等到银屏寂灭、灯光亮起，如同幻梦一场、水月镜花。人群起立，鼓掌喧嚣，他却如庄周梦蝶、一枕南柯。恍惚间，他看向镜头，说出那句每场戏拍完都会说的箴言：
“我想再来一次。”
只是这次他想重来的，是他的整个人生。
想想这部电影原定的主角是布拉德皮特，在制作前临时改为克鲁尼，而后者也几乎是立刻就同意参演，不得不说也有点神来之笔的意思。皮特其实也可以文艺，但更偏向那种自我放逐型的文艺，而克鲁尼的精英外表下自带一点忧郁的气质，比皮特更契合男主的角色定位。很有趣的一点是，电影里的杰凯利每拍一场戏都要求再拍一条，现实中真正喜欢大量重拍素材的其实是导演诺亚鲍姆巴赫本人，反而乔治克鲁尼唯一的顾虑就是担心自己一把岁数，顶不顶得住导演这种高强度的拍摄习惯。
亚当桑德勒的表演独树一帜。这个在喜剧行业深耕了30年的演员终于被越来越多的导演承认了他演正剧的能力。早在05年就和PTA合作过《私恋失调》，到07年的《从心开始》，再到17年和本片导演初次合作的《迈耶罗维茨的故事》，他一直都对这种家庭题材的电影驾轻就熟。其实经纪人这个人物的复杂程度并不比主角更低，只是被亚当举重若轻地化解在琐碎的台词和精准的微表情里。
诺亚鲍姆巴赫依旧专注于个人情感的细腻塑造，这在当下的好莱坞电影中是稀缺的。任何时候，一部优秀的作品最终的落点一定是在人本身上。人都是个体，只有专注于个体而非集体的艺术作品，才能真正打动人心。只可惜如今愿意静下心来看一个讲人物内心电影的观众，同样也是稀缺的。
这次的台词没有《婚姻故事》或者《白噪音》那么密集，而是更多给了主角自己放空、在现实和回忆里往返漫步的空间。也让观众有更充裕的时间，去跟着不急不躁的镜头语言，看完主角一生中每一个重要节点。
最喜欢的一个镜头莫过于在致敬仪式上，银幕放起他两个女儿的剪辑。主角回忆起她们还小的时候在院子里为自己表演，而他则收拾行装准备出门。女儿们一边挽留他，一边继续载歌载舞。回忆里的他在远处徘徊片刻，最后竟放下背包转身回来，倚在墙边，看完了他现实中从未有幸看完的节目。
马克吐温说，这世上有两天最为重要，你出生的那天，以及你想明白自己为何出生的那天。
那块嫌弃了一整部电影的芝士蛋糕，真的吃一口，才惊觉如此美味。
（完）