The thesis of Kent Jones’ amusing adaptation of the Arthur Schnitzler novel Late Fame is that the amount of great literature has remained consistent across generations, but that the discourse it's surrounded by is more intense. This isn’t to say that society is more or less literate, but that the divide between critic and author has been blurred. Schnitzler’s novel was centered on an elderly civil servant whose collection of poetry is rediscovered by a bourgeois group of young literary enthusiasts. Ironically, Late Fame had a similarly stymied release because it wasn’t published in Schnitzler’s lifetime. Originally written in 1895, Late Fame was dormant within Schnitzler’s Vienna archives until a 2014 German translation was made publicly available. It wasn’t until the 2017 English-language release that the novel’s perceptive insight on authorship and legacy was given the respect that it deserved for being so ahead of its time.
Prior to Late Fame, Jones had been a video archivist, film historian, and documentarian who recently made the leap into narrative features. Given that Late Fame was only received by contemporary readers, it made sense that Jones’ version would be set within the present. The novel’s protagonist, Edward Saxberger, is a quiet postal office employee who hasn’t entertained the prospect of being a writer in decades. However, Saxberger’s poetry has attracted the attention of a conclave of enthusiastic students and scholars, all of whom feel that he is an unappreciated genius. Willem Dafoe’s an actor known for his Machiavellian roles in everything from The Lighthouse to Spider-Man, but he’s curiously cast as an aged blue-collar loner who’s surrounded by a colorful ensemble of young people.
The comedic angle to Late Fame is that the content of Saxberger’s writing is barely discussed, even by Meyers (Edmund Donovan), the self-appointed leader of the young writers. Meyers’ generation has been taught to appreciate what’s come before, which has led them to be hesitant about any declarations about contemporary works. Any cultural enthusiast has the desire to “discover” a work of art they can claim to have championed, and for Meyers, the suggestion that there’s a secret genius in his hometown is impossible to resist. Even more fascinating to Meyers and his colleagues is that Saxberger has not been given the opportunity to connect with a broader community of bibliophiles, and that they would have the chance to receive his wisdom.
Late Fame is scathing in its portrayal of the incestuous thinking of a group of like-minded, privileged twentysomethings who see their work as necessary to preserve society’s elitist taste. Saxberger’s an ideal embodiment of their movement because his intentions seem entirely pure; since he never sought fame or fortune, Saxberger is, in their eyes, an artist whose work has stood for itself. The analysis they’ve conducted on Saxberger is a result of the insipid, sheltered perspective of millennials who’ve learned about reality only through cultural osmosis. Meyers never stopped to think that Saxberger chose to remain at the post office because it paid his bills, and that he hasn’t thought about poetry in decades. Meyers’ assumption is that being hailed as a creative wizard is what everyone has desired, even if they haven’t produced new work in decades.
Although Late Fame is aimed at easy targets, it's pricklier than its premise would suggest. Meyers is revealed to be more duplicitous in his vain attempts to protect his reputation, but a majority of his colleagues are homogenous pundits who’ve at least put their inherited wealth into the preservation of the arts. What they seek more than anything is validation, which could never come through a traditional financial or reputational achievement; it's not until Saxberger’s in the midst of a full-blown crisis that he’s made to understand the impact that his words have on his followers.
Dafoe’s performance is lively because he’s a man who’s suddenly brought back to adolescence, and is given the chance to experience all the highs and lows that come with being young and ambitious. If nothing else, Saxberger can say he has a group of respectful colleagues who assure him that he won’t be forgotten. However, it’s made clear to him that this is a phenomenon limited to a niche group of sophomoric peers who have failed to earn a spotlight for their own work. In one of the film’s most acidic scenes, Saxberger’s met with a brutal dose of reality during a meeting with a publisher interested in making his writing “accessible” to the TikTok generation.
Although a slightly more self-actualized version of Saxberger is revealed by the film’s conclusion, he’s given so many caustic traits that Dafoe’s unusual charisma is wasted. The only window into Saxberger’s world outside of newfound fame is an unusual relationship with the actress Gloria (Greta Lee), a friend of Meyers' group who has still viewed their goals with skepticism. The eventual attraction between Saxberger and Gloria doesn’t just become a tired riff on an aged-gap romance, but a reflection of both characters’ shallow desires.
Late Fame screened at the Venice and New York Film Festivals, but hasn’t yet been picked up by a distributor in the United States. The market for independent cinema is challenging, even when a major star like Dafoe is involved; outside of awards contenders and genre films with crossover potential, indies are more likely to fade into obscurity. That would be an unfortunate fate for a film with such compelling ideas as Late Fame, but it also may be an indication of its limited scope. Like Saxberger’s poetry, Late Fame is an intriguing, but ultimately unsatisfying thought experiment.