Blue Moon is one of director Richard Linklater’s people-talk-all-night movies and, along with his portraits of Orson Welles and Jean-Luc Godard, another look at the inspirations and heartbreaks behind a great artist’s work. Here Linklater is focused on lyricist Lorenz Hart, who, along with his longtime collaborator Richard Rodgers, wrote a treasure trove of American standards: “My Funny Valentine,” “The Lady Is a Tramp,” “Isn’t It Romantic?” and, of course, “Blue Moon.”
Hart stood barely five feet tall, was likely closeted, was a prodigious drinker and was seemingly passionate about everything — often to a fault — and he died at 48 from pneumonia after passing out drunk in a gutter. He’s played in Blue Moon by Ethan Hawke, who has been working with Linklater for 30 years and who has arguably never been better.
Because the movie is set almost entirely within the walls of the legendary Broadway hangout Sardi’s, it’s tempting to think of it as a filmed play. The first act is practically a one-man show for Hawke: He holds court and never stops talking, poetry, lyrics and historical quotes tripping off his tongue.
It’s a spring night in 1943, and his longtime creative partner Rodgers’s new musical Oklahoma! has just opened. Rodgers has never written with anyone other than Hart — until now, collaborating on Oklahoma! with Oscar Hammerstein. Hart leaves the show halfway through, declaring it cornpone nonsense, and settles onto his favorite barstool.
Act two begins when Rodgers (Andrew Scott), his cast and crew walk through the door. Suddenly Hart is dripping with praise for Oklahoma!, and he corners Rodgers and regales him with ideas for an insane-sounding epic about Marco Polo.
Meanwhile, Hart is trying to steal the attention of a Yale senior named Elizabeth Weiland (Margaret Qualley), one of many women in his life who don’t reciprocate his romantic feelings. But Elizabeth does seem to have genuine affection for Hart, and in the film’s final act, she relays a story to Hart that sounds like it will be about sex but is really about disappointment and humiliation. He understands all too well.
There are some awkward passages in Blue Moon, especially in its visual attempts to make Hawke look at least a foot shorter than he is. It also has some forehead-slapping ahistorical howlers involving E.B. White and a young, aspiring director by the name of George Roy Hill.
But Linklater is one of those filmmakers whose work always feels like smooth sailing, and Blue Moon is often moving and funny. So much of its appeal depends on Hawke’s performance: He’s wizened, wry, catty, overflowing with feeling and intoxicated by all of life’s pleasures (and some of its hazards).
The movie opens with two historical quotes about Hart: one about how fun he was to be around, and another about how sad he was. By the end of Blue Moon, we start to feel that contradiction. We pity him, identify with him, we’re overwhelmed by his personality, we’re sometimes taken aback by his intelligence, and we’re also left exhausted by his presence. The movie itself is breezy and also sad, kind of like a Rodgers and Hart song.
Nathan Weinbender is a co-host of Spokane Public Radio’s Movies 101, heard Friday evenings at 6:30 PM and Saturday afternoons at 2 PM on SPR News.