Spice the Love No.6

One evening, I came across an interview with Noah Baumbach — the American director, screenwriter, and producer known for his intimate, character-driven films that explore family, divorce, coming of age, and the complexities of human relationships.

The interview, published in The New Yorker, touches on many different aspects of Baumbach’s life and body of work. Among his reflections, two passages lingered with me long after reading:

“A lot of my characters in the past have been people who define themselves by a certain lack of success, or a lack of the success they hoped for. The way they hoped their life would be, their sort of projection of their self, and not reaching that, and calling that failure.”

“What I realized was that, in some ways, defining yourself by your own success is the same challenge. Because it’s just another way of not knowing who you are, of not looking at who you really are.”

Jay Kelly (2025) is a comedy-drama about Jay Kelly, a celebrated movie star entering a period of midlife crisis. After finishing one film and preparing for his next project, Jay learns that the director who once launched his career has passed away. The news prompts him to reflect on his career and past relationships, especially when he reconnects with old classmates and unresolved conflicts resurface.

Once a symbol of Hollywood success, Jay gradually finds that his fame has become a burden. He is trapped in the image the public expects of him, estranged from his family, and no longer recognizes himself. On paper, his career remains brilliant, but internally he feels a profound sense of failure — as a father, as a partner in relationships, and in understanding what he truly wants.

In a state of emotional turmoil, Jay impulsively abandons the film he is shooting and travels to Europe in search of his daughter — a decision that threatens to derail his career entirely. On the journey, accompanied by his loyal manager Ron and his team, Jay finds himself in a series of bittersweet and often absurd situations. Confronting past mistakes opens the door to a different kind of “success.” Here, Jay learns to face himself honestly, accept his own vulnerability, and reconnect with relationships he once thought were lost. The film suggests that outward success often conceals inner fractures, and that failure can become the starting point for genuine growth.

The second film was The Meyerowitz Stories (2017). The story centers on the Meyerowitz family, where three siblings — Danny, Jean, and Matthew — each carry their own wounds and are forced to reunite when their father Harold, a retired professor and sculptor, faces serious health issues. This event compels them to confront one another and themselves.

In The Meyerowitz Stories, each character navigates a tangled path between success and failure. Harold Meyerowitz, the artist father once respected in academic circles, spends his life haunted by a career that never reached the stature he envisioned, and that disappointment casts a long shadow over his children. Danny, the eldest son, is unemployed, divorced, living with his daughter, and constantly feels like the “forgotten child,” yet he is a deeply loving father with a close bond to his daughter.

In contrast, Matthew is the most materially successful of the siblings, but his achievements come with emotional distance and the pressure of living up to his father’s expectations, leaving him perpetually feeling inadequate. Jean, the quietly observant daughter, lives without notable accomplishments or visible failures. What troubles her most are the childhood wounds that were never acknowledged or seen. The film shows that success and failure do not exist as opposing extremes, but rather coexist within each person, shaped by expectations, family dynamics, and what remains unspoken.

It felt serendipitous that I happened to watch these two films back to back. They stand in quiet opposition to one another in their reflections on “success” and “lack of success” in the lives of their characters. Baumbach reveals that whether we fail to achieve what we once hoped for, or achieve too much, both can distance us from an honest understanding of ourselves. It made me think that rather than searching for definitions of success or of who we are, perhaps the journey of living is about learning how to step outside those definitions. I’ve written extensively about dreams, about assigning meaning to life, and my partner and I have often lived according to that framework. Yet it’s undeniable that dreams can change, and so can our definitions of success and self. Sometimes, what matters most is not achieving what we once dreamed of, but understanding who we are when those dreams no longer hold true.

Thank you, dear readers, for taking the time to reach these final lines. I hope these small reflections meet you somewhere meaningful, perhaps at a moment when you need a reminder that we are all learning how to live, how to understand ourselves, little by little. Wishing you a gentle and peaceful day as you continue on your own journey.

P.S. I once conducted an interview with artist Trần Thanh Hà, in which she shared many beautiful thoughts on the “definitions” of life, love, and beauty — reflections that continue to stay with me. You can read more about it HERE.

With love,