Time and Control: Kent Jones Discusses Performance Style, Creative Presence, and Achieving Recognition Late in Life

      Kent Jones has had an immeasurable impact on modern cinema. Collaborating closely with Martin Scorsese as co-director on various documentaries and as a vital member of the Film Foundation is one thing; running the film programming at Lincoln Center and directing the New York Film Festival for eight years is another. However, it is truly unique to hold these titles while also being a critical voice through his role as Film Comment's Editor-at-Large and his significant book Physical Evidence, which offers a blend of historical insights and strong aesthetic principles. The years following his public withdrawal have been challenging for film culture in many ways that no single individual could resolve, making one ponder how Jones’s ongoing involvement might have eased the situation.

      Seven years after his narrative debut with Diane, Jones has released Late Fame, featuring a more illustrious cast (thanks to Willem Dafoe and Greta Lee) and a greater romantic element, largely due to its rich depiction of New York locations. The shift from portraying a slow decline to an abrupt, uncomfortable relevance hints at an auteurist framework beginning to take shape. (It’s worth noting that May December's screenwriter Samy Burch adapted the story from a novella by Arthur Schnitzler.) We praised the film upon its premiere last year, and now Magnolia is releasing it as somewhat unconventional summer programming. When I met Jones this spring, typically engaging with a pair of esteemed filmmakers, he graciously offered a chance to discuss the film “in a leisurely fashion.” As a result, our conversation extended nearly an hour, allowing for a variety of topics that, while seemingly tangential, reflect the multifaceted nature of Late Fame.

      As we settled in at Magnolia's New York offices, we both acknowledged our shared taste with Roxy Music and Bob Dylan shirts.

      Kent Jones: I recall the first time I heard them. It felt so freeing. I remember being introduced to David Bowie and liking him, but then being taken to Bryan Ferry and later to Roxy Music. I saw them a couple of times and caught him once during Boys and Girls. He’s fantastic.

      The Film Stage: I was once so engrossed in Ferry and Roxy that I listened to them nearly every day for an entire year.

      Yeah, definitely.

      It's one of those catalogs where you can… particularly “Mother of Pearl” is a song I’ve probably spun a thousand times. It’s a quintessential example of writing a romantic song, or love song.

      Well, I wouldn’t quite label it romantic. Perhaps, to some extent. [Laughs] But yes: it’s definitely a masterclass in songwriting.

      Then you listen to the next track or two down the line and feel like, “How did I not notice this before?” It’s quite remarkable.

      Listening to him in interviews is intriguing. I’d love to make a documentary about him, but I don’t see that happening since he does a remarkable job of documenting his own life and managing his public image. Additionally, he sees the Roxy Music albums as a single creative entity, and he’s correct. He once said something that has stayed with me: he described his artistic aim as creating something greater than himself. I’m sure Bob would agree.

      As someone who has had the chance to speak with and interview many people I admire, I feel fortunate. The list of artists you've interacted with is enviable. Regarding artists and their modes of expression: while each is distinct, have you noticed any common thread among those you respect in how they articulate their work and themselves?

      Absolutely; the unified theme is that it all circles back to the work itself, nothing more. It’s as straightforward as that. Reviews, accolades, publicity, branding—none of that truly matters. It’s simply about the work. What I cherish about poetry is its purity. Recently, in the film landscape, there’s been a lot of lamentation, which is understandable given how the term “content” has been scrutinized. It’s disheartening to see movies diminished from their previous stature to mere content. Yet, on the other side, when discussing changes and devaluation, it often reflects that if you’re a filmmaker achieving moderate success, you’re less likely to become a superstar compared to being in, say, 1974. But that’s just fine.

      Again: it all comes back to the work. Yes, making a living has become more challenging, but poets have been navigating that struggle forever. Show me someone who has made a sustainable living solely through poetry, and I would gladly relinquish my bank account for them. Such a situation is rare outside of certain accidental successes like Rod McKuen, which isn’t very strong poetry. While many lament various issues, in reality, it boils down to: it’s about the work, and that’s the key theme.

      I feel that every talented artist I know tends to juggle another job, and I appreciated how this film visually places characters in their environments with wide shots of him