Portraying the illustrious Jewish American lyricist Lorenz Hart in Blue Moon, Ethan Hawke dominates Richard Linklater’s movie, which opens in Canadian theaters on October 24. Appearing in virtually every scene, Hawke delivers a virtuoso performance as the Broadway legend whose untimely death at 48 robbed America of a great talent far too soon.
For 24 years, he and his equally accomplished partner, the composer Richard Rodgers, were regarded as the Gilbert and Sullivan of America. They turned out a succession of celebrated songs, such as The Lady Is A Tramp, Bewitched, Bothered And Bewildered, and My Funny Valentine, that endure to this day.
Hart was a master of his craft despite bouts with alcoholism and mental illness. His ailments, however, probably caused the breakup of his highly successful partnership with Rodgers, a stickler of routine who hewed to a rigid work ethic.
Blue Moon, which unfolds in an upscale restaurant in Manhattan in 1942 and 1943, gets under way as the Broadway play Oklahoma! wows theater critics. Hart does not share their enthusiasm, denigrating it as a “third rate” and “inoffensive” play about “a world that never existed.”
His dismissive attitude stems from jealousy and resentment. Rodgers (Andrew Scott) dreamed up Oklahoma! with a new collaborator, Oscar Hammerstein II (Simon Delaney). As they exult in adulation, Hart feels left behind and neglected.
Conveying Hart’s bitterness in brilliant fashion, Hawke is at the very core of this intelligently-crafted film, which was written by Robert Kaplow and inspired by the letters of Hart and Elizabeth Weiland, an attractive university student with whom he fell in love.
Blue Moon, which takes its name from one of Hart’s memorable songs, takes place almost exclusively in the bar room of Sardi’s, a restaurant that the rich and famous frequented. As the loquacious Hart smokes a cigar and downs shots of bourbon, he converses with an empathetic barman who tries to rein in his drinking.
As Hart holds forth, he delivers a kind of soliloquy that would be far more appropriate on a stage. Hawke, his eyes lit up and his head pointed forward in intense concentration, is perfectly adept at impersonating Hart.
Speaking impassionately, he boasts that a handful of his songs have “cheated death” and discloses that he is writing a musical about Weiland (Margaret Qualley), a bottled blonde whom he rapturously describes as a “visual poem.” Realizing he has gone off on a tangent, Hart admits he sounds like a “middle-aged putz.”
A motor mouth, he then engages E.B. White, the prominent essayist and English language stylist, in a spirited and literate conversation that viewers will likely appreciate.
In another fine scene, Hart approaches Rodgers, who basks in adulation after the laudatory newspaper reviews of Oklahoma! have appeared. Extending his compliments, Hart, in a Yiddishism, exclaims, “Mazel tov, as they say in Maine.”
Cooly portrayed by Scott, Rodgers acknowledges Hart’s contribution to his “professional life,” but declines to work with him on a new play. The ghastly look on Hart’s face speaks of rejection.
Hammerstein is considerably kinder, crediting Hart for having Americanized the American song book. Regrettably, Hammerstein is a fleeting and insignificant figure in the film.
Linklater pays far too much attention to Hart’s platonic relationship with Weiland. In an underwhelming sequence, she confesses that she loves another man, but charitably adds that her love for Hart is “wiser and deeper.” Although disappointed by her lukewarm words, he gives her credit for having “resurrected” him.
Ultimately, Hart is seen as a sad and lonely figure who drowns his sorrow in liquor and masks his frustration with soaring expressions of eloquence.
Hawke captures his qualities in scene-stealing scenes that add lustre and weight to Blue Moon, an arthouse movie that brings Hart to life more than 80 years after his passing.