“I’ve never thought of myself as a public figure that needed a comeback,” says the 36-year-old Canadian. “I’ve never really stepped up to the plate, anyway.”

He was poised for A-list stardom when Felicity wrapped up in 2002 (or so we, ahem, heard) but opted for quarter-life slackerdom instead. “You get to Hollywood, have a modicum of luck and you get a career going before you’re ready to deal with it,” explains Speedman, who was discovered on Toronto’s Speaker’s Corner demanding to be cast as Robin in Batman Forever.

Today, however, Speedman’s all grown up and serious. His gripping lead performance in Citizen Gangster, in which he plays infamous Canadian WWII-era bank robber Edwin Boyd, earned him a Genie nomination for best actor. “I probably wasn’t ready to take on something like this a few years back,” he says of the film, which premiered at TIFF in 2011 and is now getting a wide release stateside. “It came along when I was finally ready to take a hold of my career.”

Last Resort, in which Speedman plays an officer on a US nuclear sub gone rogue, is set to premiere next fall. After that, what about a dark, gritty Robin reboot?

Raised not far from where he now keeps shop, Robinson designs clothes inspired by a youth spent with his grandfather, a veteran of WWII, and teen years at a military boarding school. As a result, the Klaxon Howl line is rugged, without being cartoonish: no overzealous detailing, no camo where it doesn’t belong. Robinson modernizes and tweaks the look of vintage workwear and military clothing; never replicating, but certainly paying homage to the clothes his grandfather wore. A recent runway show, for example, was split between “on leave” and “in the field” looks, complete with dramatic lighting and music cues inspired by the 20th century conflicts in Korea and Vietnam.

Klaxon Howl, the brand, began in 2005. Back then it was a side project to Robinson’s Delphic, a shop that carried both high-end designer clothing and furniture. While Klaxon Howl took over the storefront last fall, it’s clear that design and architecture still fascinate him. He has a designer’s eye for functionality, clean lines and structure. He prides himself on the fact that, while most of his customers are more likely to log hours in front of their MacBook than do physical labour a day, the clothes he makes would survive if they did. The clothes, at least, are authentic.

“It’s a point of pride for us that we make everything in Toronto, and we have no intention of doing it any other way,” says Robinson. As the line has gained notice, he’s been approached by cheaper, international clothes-makers, but he isn’t budging. The battle plan for Robinson moving forward is to consolidate the success of Klaxon Howl, while expanding its presence. Opening a store in New York City could very well be the next major step.

“Menswear is really having a boom at the moment. Men just have a different approach to shopping now. They’re looking for quality and things that will last. Things that fit well and are made of good fabrics. Clothing that has a bit of a backstory,” says Robinson.

Backstory in place, Klaxon Howl’s story continues.

The film had so many good points that Anderson’s neat-freak compositions struggled to contain them; the problems, meanwhile, lurked outside the frame.

Rushmore’s critical and commercial success spawned a merciless cycle of imitators trying to replicate its super-quirky charms. Making matters worse was that the main offender was Anderson himself. While  2001’s charming family saga The Royal Tenenbaums was Rushmore’s equal, The Life Aquatic With Steve Zissou (2004) and The Darjeeling Limited (2007) may as well have been parodies of his style: nattily dressed ciphers moping about exquisitely art-directed vacuums. It was as if Anderson, who burst onto the scene at age 25, had finally caught up with the talent of those early features and followed it right into a rut.

But Fantastic Mr. Fox (2009) was a turning point. Since Anderson’s impeccably crafted films already resembled (human) puppet shows, stop-motion animation was a logical next step. The question is whether this month’s Moonrise Kingdom will be the next step in a new winning streak or another in a series of holding patterns. Anderson isn’t exactly breaking new ground. He’s assembled an amazing cast—Bruce Willis, Edward Norton, Tilda Swinton—ironically to hunt a pair of young, unknown actors (Jared Gillman and Kara Hayward).

The story sounds like the ultimate Anderson plot: two 12-year-old puppy-lovers who run away from their coastal New England town. All of his films are in some way about the clash between the security of childhood and the responsibilities of the adult world. The paradox is that Anderson’s own filmmaking seems as resistant to growing up as his characters, which is both a source of his charm and one of his limitations.

Make no mistake: Anderson is too big a  talent to be reduced to an I-Heart-the-’90s entry alongside other alt-geek icons like Weezer, but as he ages along with his fans, it might be time to abandon his private celluloid moonrise kingdom for the real world.

Photography: Therese Aldgard

As a reporter for CBS2 in Los Angeles, McCarty wades knee-deep in gang wars, hate crimes and senseless acts of violence. So we did the only thing we could do: ask her about the news.