Saxberger has been working at the post office for decades with his poetry-writing past so far behind him that his dive bar buddies are unaware of it. Yet, for one brief moment, we also glimpse Saxberger with a plastic bag that appears to contain a couple books, not only suggesting that he has maintained his interest in the art world but subtly rebutting the frequent movie cliché that a blue-collar lifestyle and intellectual pursuits do not go hand in hand. He is carrying that bag, in fact, when he is approached by Meyers, who lavishes him with praise. Meyers talks about how much the poems relate to the present moment, an idea that is never expounded upon any further, tinging it with the scent not so much of someone blowing smoke but the way a young person who doesn’t yet know any better tends to talk in too many superlatives. As he prattles on, Jones gives Dafoe a big, juicy close-up, his lips transforming into a smile at once flabbergasted and flattered, instantly communicating that no matter how much he begs off, he will become ingratiated with Meyers and his group.
That group dubs itself The Enthusiasm Society, an alternative to the cynicism and snark that rules the modern age, even if occasionally in their Whit Stillman-like affectations a little snark still shines through, especially when addressing the social media influencer gang that hangs out in the same place on the other side of the same room. They welcome Saxberger into their group as some odd mixture of mentor and mascot, urging him to write a new poem for a reading they plan to stage. Given not just these plot points but The Enthusiasm Society’s retro attire, like it’s a “Midnight in Paris” costume party, “Late Fame” tiptoes right up to the line of caricature. Yet, if they become semi-unwitting caricatures in the context of the movie’s world, they never quite become caricatures in terms of the movie itself. You find it hard to take them seriously, but you believe that they take themselves seriously, rich kids cosplaying as struggling artists.
That group dubs itself The Enthusiasm Society, an alternative to the cynicism and snark that rules the modern age, even if occasionally in their Whit Stillman-like affectations a little snark still shines through, especially when addressing the social media influencer gang that hangs out in the same place on the other side of the same room. They welcome Saxberger into their group as some odd mixture of mentor and mascot, urging him to write a new poem for a reading they plan to stage. Given not just these plot points but The Enthusiasm Society’s retro attire, like it’s a “Midnight in Paris” costume party, “Late Fame” tiptoes right up to the line of caricature. Yet, if they become semi-unwitting caricatures in the context of the movie’s world, they never quite become caricatures in terms of the movie itself. You find it hard to take them seriously, but you believe that they take themselves seriously, rich kids cosplaying as struggling artists.
Their performative nature is echoed in Gloria (Greta Lee), the lone female member of their expectedly male-heavy group. Saxberger does not meet her initially, a shrewd narrative decision to enhance her intentionally created air of mystery, and from the moment she first sweeps into the room in her cabaret star-like costuming and larger-than-life manner, it is obvious to us and to him that she is performing. It’s a charismatic performance, both Gloria’s and Lee’s, and though Saxberger is partially content to let himself get caught up in it, he also delicately presses her for the truth. That truth is not hard to foresee and speaks to the screenplay’s occasional tendency toward pat predictability. Yet, just as often, the script transcends it, appearing to plant familiar seeds that don’t quite pay off in ways you expect, or even more refreshingly, such as in the case of Saxberger being on the wagon, don’t pay off at all.
The Enthusiasm Society does expectedly combust, but this is portrayed less as a nominal surprise than a reflection of how such movements are always destined to burn as briefly as they might brightly. Indeed, the one fragment we hear in an internal monologue of Saxberger’s never-finished new poem merely evokes how the season of Saxberger’s poetry has long since passed. The poem he reads at the climactic event turns out to be an old one, and that poem turns out to be an act of remembering, providing the sequence two layers of reflection. And the way Dafoe infuses his character’s reading with a sense of peace rather than disappointment or even wistfulness brings “Late Fame” home. It’s as if he is flipping through an old photo album and when he’s done, he shuts it and puts it back on the shelf, happy to have the memories, content in knowing that’s all they are. And the final scene goes to show that in a movie made of so many words, or attempted words, that sometimes, no words need to be spoken at all.