Willem Dafoe is pure poetry in ‘Late Fame’
For his follow-up to his heartfelt “Diane,” Pittsfield native Kent Jones relocates from the Berkshires to Lower Manhattan for a similarly engrossing tale about an aging protagonist processing regret while contemplating legacy. It’s called “Late Fame,” culled from an 1895 novel by Arthur Schnitzler (“Eyes Wide Shut”) that translates surprisingly well to modern-day New York City thanks to Samy Burch’s timeless adaptation.
As was the case with her screenplay for “May December,” she takes a discerning look at the destructive nature of fame and misplaced adulation. But there’s nothing about Ed Saxberger (Willem Dafoe, excellent) as tawdry as a thirtysomething wife and mother having an affair with her teenage co-worker. No, Ed is just a regular Joe who enjoyed his 15 minutes in 1979 after his poetry compilation, “Way Past Go,” was lauded by the Village Voice.
Quickly forgotten, the book and its author were swept into the dustbin of obscurity … until now. A group of naive young poetry aficionados, led by the erudite Wilson Meyers (Wellesley native Edmund Donovan), have sought out their hero, who ages ago went from a man of letters to sorting them at the Post Office.
In the opening scenes, Jones familiarizes us with Ed’s daily routine, marked by wistful loneliness as he walks to and from his job in the West Village, stopping for a beer with the guys before heading home for a canned-tuna supper and bed. Then one day, he’s approached by Meyers, effusive in his praise of the former wordsmith and eager for the sexagenarian to join him and the five other members of the Enthusiasm Society in an Algonquin-like roundtable.
Leery of the well-dressed, well-spoken stranger, Ed heads up to his tiny rent-controlled apartment with nary a second thought. Days later, he crosses paths with Meyers again, but this time he agrees to meet the guys, well played by Graham Campbell, Clay Singer, Arthur Langley, Luca Padovan and Donovan. They excitedly pepper Ed with questions about what it was like to live in the Village in the 1970s, rubbing elbows with the likes of William S. Burroughs, while vicariously indulging their own pipe dreams.
Ed shocks even himself by lapping up the attention. Might it eventually all go to his head, especially after meeting the sixth member of the circle, the mysterious and seductive Gloria (“Past Lives” knockout Greta Lee), a shamelessly flirtatious actress slightly older than the boys but surely out of Ed’s league?
You bet it does, and what Dafoe achieves in fleshing out the ease with which a nobody can suddenly become somebody is endlessly fascinating. It’s also grounded in the relatable experiences of an everyman whose long-forgotten dream is unexpectedly yanked out of mothballs. And with nary a word, Dafoe works from the inside out to paint a convincing portrait of what it’s like for someone so meek to suddenly be imbued with confidence and esteem.
Yet, he senses this burst of hero worship will be fleeting because in a not-so-small way, he realizes the idolatry is at heart empty, and it’s only a matter of time before his insecurities win out. But not before alienating his blue-collar bar buddies and his sister, Barbara (Welker White), whose phone-message pleas for him to rush to join her at the side of their dying brother go unheeded. Who needs family when a sexy, vivacious woman like Gloria is practically throwing herself at you?
As was the case with Mary Kay Place in “Diane,” Dafoe has a knack for putting you in the shoes of a selfish person burning bridges as the what-ifs of a path not taken grab hold and become all-consuming. Throughout this transformation, Dafoe is perfectly in tune with the accompanying satirical beats lambasting the smugness and self-importance of the literati.
That’s because there’s a lot of Willen in Ed, a guy who was showered with acclaim in his youth for his memorable turns in “Platoon” and “The Last Temptation of Christ.” Then settled in as a reliably consistent character actor before enjoying an Ed-like renaissance of late by dazzling in “The Lighthouse” and “The Florida Project.” It’s somewhat fitting that Martin Scorsese, the man who gave Dafoe his first meaningful lead in “Last Temptation,” serves as an executive producer on “Late Fame.”
You could say it brings Dafoe full circle, but in many ways, Ed Saxberger is an almost 180-degree departure for an actor who I can’t recall playing someone this vulnerable and defenseless against the onrushing tide. Matching him is Donovan. The Boston University grad summons a pitch-perfect imitation of a Whit Stillman creation, too clueless to notice just how pretentious and presumptuous he and his pals are in their adoration for Ed and themselves.
Lee is equally strong playing the high-maintenance diva, using Gloria’s vivacious sexuality to shake down potential sugar daddies dumb enough to invite her in. With Ed, though, you sense her intentions are genuine because, like us, she cherishes his guilelessness. In some ways he’s a sap, but one who is always aware that his newfound popularity is fleeting but can’t resist the applause … until it’s time to wise up. And when he does – wow!
Some, I’m sure, will nitpick over the easy-does-it ending. But I found it quite moving, as well as insightful in its exploration of how the drive to cater to strangers and hangers-on, such as the Enthusiasm Society, can take priority over blood relations. Like Ed, we tend to bend over backward to please the people who care the least, particularly if opportunity beckons. That’s the ultimate takeaway from “Late Fame.” Well, that and Dafoe’s well-versed, rhyme-time performance. It’s ode-y, but a goody.
Movie review
Late Fame
Rated: Not rated
Cast: Willem Dafoe, Greta Lee, Edmund Donovan, Graham Campbell, Clay Singer, Arthur Langley, Luca Padovan and Jake Lacy
Director: Kent Jones
Writer: Samy Burch
Runtime: 96 minutes
Where: Now showing in New York City, expands throughout August
Grade: A-
