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Willem Dafoe on Playing a Poet in 'Late Fame

· side-hustles

The Unlikely Art of Exit Strategy

Willem Dafoe’s latest film, “Late Fame,” is more than just a portrait of an aging poet struggling to find his place in the world. Beneath its surface, it raises questions about the nature of art, success, and what we leave behind when we walk away.

Dafoe has spent decades navigating this territory, oscillating between high-profile franchises like “Spider-Man” and “Finding Nemo,” and more experimental projects that showcase his unique collaborative spirit. His affinity for directors like Yorgos Lanthimos and Robert Eggers speaks to a specific kind of creative synergy: one where passion, imagination, and risk-taking are essential.

But what happens when we choose to step away from our art? When we decide the whirlwind is too much, or that fame’s costs outweigh its benefits? For Ed Saxberger, Dafoe’s character in “Late Fame,” this decision is complex. It’s a chapter of his life he seems to have closed off, yet one that continues to haunt him.

Dafoe has spoken about the scene he encountered as a young artist: the experimental theater movement that flourished in 1970s New York City. He was part of it, but on its fringes – more observer than participant. Yet he absorbed its energy and went on to build a career marked by bold choices and risk-taking collaborations.

“Late Fame” becomes a fascinating case study: a film about the interplay between youthful passion and the wisdom of experience. Dafoe’s performances tend toward the grander-scale, but in “Late Fame,” he is muted, interior, conjuring both the cerebral quality of a poet and the stoicism of someone who has made peace with his choices.

Dafoe’s decision to step away from art raises questions about what we leave behind when we walk away. For many artists, this is a perpetual dilemma: do they pursue their passions, no matter the costs? Or do they retreat, content with leaving a legacy that, while incomplete, still bears witness to their creative spark?

Dafoe’s collaborations with Eggers and Lanthimos offer a glimpse into what he seeks in a director: passion, imagination, and an unapologetic commitment to their vision. In return, these directors – particularly Eggers – give him the freedom to experiment, push boundaries, and find new ways of contributing to their shared world.

This is where Dafoe’s work with Eggers takes on particular significance: in “Werwulf,” his latest film with the director, he plays a character in a 13th-century setting. Their collaborations are notable not just for their creative daring but also for their willingness to challenge traditional notions of art and performance.

Dafoe’s ability to find excitement in both big-budget studio projects and smaller, more experimental films speaks to his adaptability as an artist – and perhaps even his capacity to remain open to new experiences. “I don’t want them to be doing the job,” he says. “I want it to burn hot.”

The implications of Dafoe’s work are far-reaching. They speak to a fundamental question: what do we leave behind when we walk away from our art? Is it the unfinished projects, the unexplored ideas, or something more ephemeral?

Dafoe himself has spoken about the importance of staying connected to his creative spark – even as he navigates the demands of high-profile franchises. For him, collaboration is not just a means to an end but an essential part of the artistic process itself: “When I give myself to a director,” he says, “I want it to burn hot.”

This is where we return to Saxberger’s dilemma – and Dafoe’s own experiences as an artist. What does it mean when we choose to exit our art? Is it a decision born of pragmatism or one fueled by passion? Or perhaps it’s something more complex: a recognition that, even in the midst of creative fulfillment, there are moments when we must step back and reassess.

For Dafoe, “Late Fame” is not just a film about an aging poet struggling to find his place; it’s also a reflection on what we leave behind when we walk away. It’s a testament to the power of artistic collaboration – one that reminds us that even as we navigate the twists and turns of our careers, there are moments when passion, imagination, and risk-taking become the only path forward.

As Dafoe himself says: “I want it to burn hot.”

Reader Views

  • RH
    Riley H. · indie hacker

    Willem Dafoe's decision to play Ed Saxberger in "Late Fame" is more than just a reflection of his own career trajectory - it's also a missed opportunity for a deeper exploration of the financial costs associated with an art world that demands perpetual output. As we fetishize creativity and authenticity, we overlook the very real sacrifices made by artists who choose to step away from their craft. What happens when those choices aren't driven by artistic merit but economic necessity? The film's subtlety may be deliberate, but it raises questions that deserve more nuance.

  • ML
    Mei L. · etsy seller

    It's refreshing to see Dafoe embracing subtlety in his portrayal of Ed Saxberger, but I'd love to see more exploration of what lies beyond his character's introspection. What about those who've left art behind due to external circumstances, like financial strain or family obligations? How do they reconcile the sacrifices made for their craft with the need for stability and security? Dafoe's decision to step back from the spotlight raises questions about the privilege of artistic freedom and the harsh realities that many creatives face in making a living from their work.

  • TH
    The Hustle Desk · editorial

    While Willem Dafoe's performance in "Late Fame" is undeniably nuanced, I'm struck by the lack of attention given to the actual poet he plays. Who was Ed Saxberger, really? The film's portrayal feels like a romanticized fantasy rather than an honest exploration of his life and work. To truly grasp the themes of art, success, and legacy, one needs to know more about Saxberger's own creative trajectory, not just Dafoe's interpretation of it.

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