Jane Austen references abound in Metropolitan, writer-director Whit Stillman’s first film, although The Great Gatsby might be a better-suited literary touchstone. Like F. Scott Fitzgerald’s Nick Carraway, Stillman’s Tom Townsend (Edward Clements) finds himself a few steps below on the social ladder, as a removed (though not as removed as he thinks) observer of the debutante balls of New York City’s Upper East Side circa 1990. Tom falls in with an insular group of college-age preppies (or UHBs—urban haute bourgeoisie—as they try to rebrand themselves), who attend society dances, then gather after to trade educated quips and catty gossip. (Chris Eigeman stands out among the novice cast as a particularly priggish wit.) If this all sounds insufferable, it’s worth noting that Stillman’s writing is self-aware in ways his characters are not. What’s more, the literary and philosophical bon mots are not only name drops, but instead woven into the story in meaningful ways. Unfortunately, a male, heterosexual paranoia underlines the plot proper and ultimately usurps the unsatisfying finale, making Metropolitan an intriguing debut rather than a triumphant one.
(12/28/2025)
