55/100
My favorite logline in ages (courtesy of Arthur Schnitzler; this was adapted from his novella): Once-celebrated poet, dormant since at least the '80s, gets rediscovered by a gaggle of artsy kids who've formed their own version of the Algonquin Round Table and adopt him as their muse/mascot. Dafoe's a fine choice for the lead and deftly communicates this guy's uncomfortable mix of pride and mortification at being celebrated by what he speedily discovers are mostly privileged poseurs performatively rejecting all things modern (they're not on "sociopathic media," for example); I also really dug Greta Lee as the Enthusiasm Society's sole female member and resident extrovert, looking as if she's cosplaying a Weimar German well before she actually sings "Surabaya Johnny" onstage. Samy Burch wrote the screenplay, however, and while this film's far more coherent than May December (which I liked much less than everyone else), it suffers from intermittent overstatement and clunkiness. Too cute by half when Meyers the ostensible Luddite says "Alexa, increase volume 50%" seconds after Saxberger leaves his luxury West Village apartment (Jones cuts away on that line, ensuring that it registers as a punchline), and I just didn't believe a single moment of the movie's most crucial scene, in which Saxberger abruptly turns on all his fellow working-class buddies (none of whom were aware of his literary past), telling them they're too lowbrow to appreciate his work. (Clark Johnson half-rescues this by underplaying, both then and later on, but the betrayal still feels entirely script-imposed.) Also would've preferred a bit more Stillman-esque distinction from the Enthusiasm crew, though their being mid is admittedly kinda the point. I feel like a significantly stronger film could have been made using this basic idea, but that idea and Dafoe are enough to make what we got worthwhile.