Stephanie Bunbury at the Sydney Morning Herald writes:
IT’S BEEN an unconscionably long time between daiquiris for Whit Stillman, the upper-crust, Upper East Side director who, in the ’90s, was to preppies and yuppies what Woody Allen is to Jewish neurotics. Stillman’s trio of films – Metropolitan, Barcelona and The Last Days of Disco – were sophisticated yet naive, stories of classy young people whose natural habitat was the party, but who spoke of books and each other in perfectly constructed sentences. Then, after The Last Days of Disco, nothing. Whit Stillman disappeared. Now, at 60, Stillman (pictured below) has made his fourth film.
Everyone who speaks to him at the Venice Film Festival, where the film is being launched – appropriately enough, given that this is the city both of perilous artificial constructions and masks – tells him how marvellous it is that he’s back.
He agrees, not without bitterness.