In Kent Jones’s lyrical and enchanting “Late Fame,” Willem Dafoe plays a forgotten New York poet who once had a moment. It was 1979, and Dafoe’s character, Ed Saxberger, was part of the downtown scene — the punks and artists and Warhol/Waters exhibitionist misfits who were living for next to nothing in the East Village and its squalid environs, hanging out and going to loft parties, but sometimes they created things. Ed published a book of poetry, entitled “Way Past Go,” that placed him on the edge of what was happening. For a while, he lived the bohemian dream. But the 1980s were around the corner, and poetry doesn’t
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