SGIFF 2025: Kent Jones Puts Tortured Nepo Poets on Blast in ‘Late Fame’

There is something poetic about the sight of a man, seasoned by time, sorting mail in a dingy post office in the age of the internet. Maybe it’s the comforting feeling of a way of life preserved, or maybe it’s the crushing fear of a culture collapsing. Either way, unlike those overtly saccharine and often exploitative social media reels, Kent Jones’ Late Fame is clear on its intention. It establishes a connection with the protagonist, Ed Saxberger.

Decades prior to wading through the letters, Saxberger first wrote them. His book of poetry, Way Past Go, bore a promise of a poet poised for prominence. At least that’s what it was supposed to be—he never did crack into New York’s elite literary scene. That is, until Meyers showed up on his doorstep. Swept up in the sweet words of the young admirer, he soon finds himself among a coterie of twentysomethings called the Enthusiasm Society.

This newfound fame is intoxicating. A renewal he did not think he was after is now within reach. But as a public exhibition draws near, the thread that binds the circle he’s inducted into begins unspooling, not to them but to us watching from afar. Amid the cuts of credit cards, finely tailored fits, and luxurious lofts, a realisation strikes. These dandies are merely parroting—poorly at that—the words of the artists they claim to celebrate.

Jones has made it clear that he isn’t interested in the theme of hypocrisy at play here. It’s the grand dreams, which in Late Fame turn illusions into delusions, that he gravitates towards. But hypocrisy is so deeply embedded in Samy Burch’s screenplay, which is based on Arthur Schnitzler’s 1895 novella, that it is inescapable. The pompous yet obviously vapid so-called literary art collective gets under your skin as they incessantly feign understanding of the woes of the real world.

The only one who showcases a semblance of depth among the thinly written supporting characters is Meyers, who exhibits a faint awareness of his blue-blood privilege, albeit only doing so to pander to the blue-collar Saxberger. He is also the only one in the bunch who shows genuine fondness for his idol’s forgotten works. That makes his, well, enthusiasm somewhat bearable. His clinging to Saxberger’s every word is smarmy at worst.

Of course, Edmund Donovan deserves a shoutout for his portrayal of Meyers, having walked the tightrope between charm and contrivance. But it must be said that Late Fame shines the brightest when Greta Lee slithers into frame. Much like Saxberger, her Gloria is an odd duck, latching onto the wannabes in hope for a spotlight that launches her anew. Seeing her bend herself into a persona that keeps them coming back is quietly wounding.

Lee imbues her struggling actress with poise and pathos, claiming her own Sally Bowles moment in the annals of cinema, delivering one of the year’s most affecting performances. Her rendition of Kurt Weill’s Surabaya, Johnny, in particular, is equal parts epic and tragic. The vulnerability she exudes here, and in her poetry reading in the later part of the film—smudged lipstick, streaming tears, and all—lends Late Fame its beating heart.

Willem Dafoe, despite his top billing, takes the backseat. The quietness in his performance in large part is due to Burch’s writing. Late Fame frames Saxberger as a passive protagonist. He reacts to the circumstances he’s put in more times than he commands them. What little opportunities given to him to colour his character—sporadic family phone calls and a kiss he shares with Gloria—simply blur into the background by the end of the film’s 96-minute runtime.

Where Late Fame soars is in its critique of the classism in the art world. It exposes the  disproportionate amount of power, access, and representation those from the affluent backgrounds hold in the art scene. This structural social inequality results in the bastardisation of art itself, where what’s left to say are the old virtues and cellphone addiction, rather than actual and radical ideas the likes of Gloria and once, Saxberger, offer.

Rating: 6.5/10

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