Late Fame

My sister once told me that she couldn’t watch a film with Leonardo Di Caprio because his face annoyed her. She found his eyes scary and he reminded her of a school bully. I thought this frankly ridiculous. DiCaprio can act and his environmental activism should help secure a future for the planet his girlfriends will live on.

But I have a confession to make. This is not going to look good on me, and I’m prepared for the flak. Up until this point in my life, I don’t think I have ever seen a Willem Dafoe film. I had a strong aversion to his face. This is not nice of me. But I have always found his face unsettling, the way it reminds us that we are nothing more than skeletons with our skin pulled taut over cheek and jaw bones. His acting ability was immaterial, because I was worried that all I would see is him hooded with a scythe waiting for me.

I got over my Willem-phobia to go see Late Fame, and I’m so glad I did. This is a witty, assured, acerbic look at writerly fame.

Dafoe plays Ed Saxburger, a postal worker living in Manhattan. However, when he first arrived in New York, fifty years earlier, he had belonged to an artistic set. The film opens with Meyers, (Edmund Donovan) waiting for Saxburger on the street outside his apartment. Meyers found and read a 1970s anthology of Ed’s poetry whilst traveling in Europe and became a fan.

So, begins Saxburger’s induction into The Enthusiasm Society.

The Enthusiasm Society is a small group of writers and artists with a hankering for old-style creativity, eschewing ‘influencer’ culture and phone addiction. They are mainly young, white men with private income, a university education and privilege. Meyers, as their leader, is particularly wealthy and well-connected, with parents who buy property to develop and friends in publishing.

The only woman in the group, is the outrageous Gloria – a fabulous turn by Greta Lee – an actress who is well-versed in the aesthetic of 1920s Berlin cabaret, but who is struggling, financially, artistically and emotionally. To keep afloat she toys with the emotions of the well-resourced members of the Enthusiasm Society.

The plot is ostensibly focused on the production of a spoken word showcase for the group, which highlights the tensions of ambition and competition within the group. However, this is not a plot-driven film. It is a series of vignettes highlighting character, class dynamics and the vagary of the muse.

Saxburger hasn’t written anything for years. He has been tasked with writing a new piece for Gloria to perform. But, as the blurred scene transitions show, he is struggling to find focus. He wanders the streets of New York with just a title on repeat through his head – Seasons Collide – an allusion to his infatuation with Gloria, and the disparity between his experiences and those of the Enthusiasm Society. He is untethered by their attention.

Gloria, meanwhile, is aware of her diminishing currency. She knows the irony of telling Saxeburger:

“You must have been beautiful when you were young.”

She had already observed that one of the most exciting people to be is a rediscovered male genius.  For her, it would be better to be an ingenue.

The film is funny, tinged with melancholy and nostalgia. Its loose structure allows scenes to bump into each other. It juxtaposes: phone messages begging Ed to see his brother, a publisher’s office downtown, the luxury flat of Meyers, the post workers’ bar, hope and resignation. It suggests that writers need community and vice versa, but how this ideal is all too easily sullied by promotion and ego. It is a satire on class, privilege and opportunity, how money can’t buy talent, but talent doesn’t necessarily buy opportunity.

This film was a little, gentle matinee gem, with a sassy screenplay from Samy Burch that felt comfortable taking aim at any number of targets while for the most part refusing simple stereotypes. (The scenes with Saxburger’s colleagues were the least convincing).

I’m glad I got over my distrust of Dafoe’s vampiric looks. It’s almost as if you can’t judge a book by its cover.

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Rachel Robbins | Vocal