Richard Linklater, a filmmaker long associated with the slacker ethos of the ’90s, has proven himself to be one of America’s most versatile and consistently brilliant directors. From the philosophical musings of Before Sunrise to the kinetic energy of School of Rock, his diverse filmography has covered an array of genres and stories. This fall, Linklater gifts audiences two more portraits of artists—each an exploration of creativity and the forces that shape and ultimately diminish it. While one film, Nouvelle Vague, explores the origins of the French New Wave through the eyes of Jean-Luc Godard, the other, Blue Moon, examines the final days of American lyricist Lorenz Hart.
Blue Moon stands out as one of the most emotionally rich and entertaining films of the year, a poignant look at the life and struggles of Hart, who, together with composer Richard Rodgers, created some of the most beloved songs in American history. With Oklahoma! having premiered just down the street from New York’s iconic Sardi’s restaurant on March 31, 1943, the film zeroes in on a singular night in Hart’s life, just six months before his death from pneumonia at the age of 48. As Broadway celebrates its new hit musical, Hart faces the harsh reality of his own fading relevance, and the film captures both the humor and tragedy of that moment with great depth.
A Portrait of Lorenz Hart: A Man Out of Time
Lorenz Hart, played to perfection by Ethan Hawke, is a man caught between the brilliance of his past and the irrelevance of his present. In the heart of New York City, Hart is holding court at Sardi’s. The restaurant’s ornate interior hums with excitement, as its patrons prepare to witness the debut of Oklahoma!, the Rodgers and Hammerstein musical that would forever change the Broadway landscape. But while Broadway’s attention is directed toward Oklahoma! and its “wholesome” portrayal of America, Hart can’t help but nurse his resentment. He’s been replaced in the Rodgers partnership by Oscar Hammerstein II, and it’s this bitter betrayal that stings the most on this night.
Though he’s still a regular at Sardi’s, Hart’s place in Broadway’s golden age is rapidly slipping away. The script, written by Robert Kaplow, is based on Hart’s actual correspondence with a young Yale student named Elizabeth Weiland (played by Margaret Qualley), who occupies the periphery of the film. As the night wears on, the film unfolds as an increasingly intimate character study, with Hawke delivering his finest performance to date. His portrayal of Hart is both sharp-witted and deeply vulnerable, a man with more than a few regrets, but also an immense love for the words he has written. It’s the contradictions of Hart’s character—the self-destructive alcoholic, the poet with an unrelenting sense of pride, the man who adores beauty and yet struggles to find solace—that Hawke captures with incredible nuance.
The Artistry of Ethan Hawke
Ethan Hawke has often been associated with certain types of characters—disillusioned, thoughtful men, usually facing existential crises in Linklater’s films like Before Sunrise or Boyhood. But here, as Hart, Hawke morphs into a completely different persona. His physical transformation is notable, with a portrayal that exaggerates the diminutive nature of Hart’s physique, complete with combed-over hair and an aging, hunched posture. While some may find the change in appearance distracting, it is a deliberate move to make Hart feel both tragic and larger-than-life in his own mind.
Hawke’s Hart is a man still grappling with the weight of his legacy—his songwriting having earned him a permanent spot in the American songbook through classics like “My Funny Valentine,” “The Lady Is a Tramp,” and the titular “Blue Moon.” But the film doesn’t only focus on his accomplishments. Instead, it zooms in on Hart’s mounting frustration with the shifting cultural tides of the 1940s and the rising popularity of a more traditional, “wholesome” brand of American music. He’s a man who seems to be fighting against time itself, unable to accept that his moment in the spotlight has passed.
One of the film’s most compelling elements is the way it lets Hart’s obsession with language and cleverness shine through. Early in the film, he deflects his insecurities with biting humor, regaling anyone who will listen with quips and observations about his songs, his friends, and the world around him. His admiration for Casablanca and its central line “Nobody ever loved me that much” is a fitting metaphor for the tragic self-awareness Hart carries. Yet despite his brilliant, biting humor, the film never allows us to forget that Hart is, above all, deeply lonely.
The Symbiotic Relationship Between Hart and Rodgers
At the heart of Blue Moon is the disintegrating relationship between Hart and his former songwriting partner, Richard Rodgers. Rodgers, played by Andrew Scott, is the antithesis to Hart—grounded, practical, and focused on the future. As the success of Oklahoma! takes center stage, Hart is forced to reckon with the fact that Rodgers has moved on from their partnership, replacing him with a more commercially viable collaborator. Their conversations are tinged with a subtle sadness, with Rodgers trying to extend olive branches to his old friend while Hart recoils, not out of malice, but because he simply cannot accept his obsolescence.
While the film explores their fractured relationship, it also touches on the larger theme of creative partnerships—how success can both unite and fracture the most intimate of friendships. There is a palpable tension between the two characters, as Rodgers comes to represent the establishment, while Hart stands as a defiant figure, unwilling to conform to the times. Their relationship is one of both affection and painful pride, and in many ways, their interactions feel like a requiem for the golden age of Broadway songwriting.
The Presence of Elizabeth Weiland
Elizabeth Weiland’s role in the film is crucial, but she serves as both a source of tenderness and a reminder of Hart’s growing irrelevance. Weiland, an ambitious young woman, represents a future that Hart will never be a part of, and the disparity between their lives forms the emotional core of the film. Though Hart’s infatuation with her seems mismatched, it reveals his vulnerability and deep-seated desire for connection. Yet, it also underscores the inevitability of change, with the new generation poised to leave figures like Hart behind.
While their interactions are bittersweet, they are also profoundly human, highlighting the poignancy of a man at the twilight of his life who still yearns for beauty and youth, even if it’s out of reach. The fact that she is destined for the mainstream success that Hart will never experience provides a sharp, melancholic contrast to Hart’s hope, revealing the tragic futility of his efforts.
Linklater’s Direction: A Masterclass in Minimalism
Linklater, known for his fluid, naturalistic storytelling style, excels in creating a space where small moments speak volumes. Blue Moon is far more restrained than many of his previous works, relying on minimalism and quiet interactions to tell its story. While there are moments of humor and tenderness, the film never strays too far from its central premise: an evening at Sardi’s, a last gasp of a man trying to come to terms with his own fading relevance.
The setting of Sardi’s, that iconic New York restaurant, also plays an integral role in the film. The space, filled with actors, artists, and Broadway’s glitterati, becomes a metaphor for Hart’s struggle. The place is full of ghosts—past glories and faded ambitions—and it’s here that Linklater allows Hart to express his inner turmoil. It’s a fitting backdrop for a man confronting his own obsolescence in an ever-changing world.
Conclusion: A Tribute to a Lost Genius
Blue Moon is more than just a film about the last night of Lorenz Hart’s life—it is a meditation on the fleeting nature of fame, the pain of artistic obsolescence, and the enduring power of words and music. It’s a poignant, often humorous portrayal of a man who gave the world some of its most beloved songs, even as his personal life unraveled. Hawke’s performance is nothing short of extraordinary, and Linklater’s direction perfectly captures the melancholic beauty of this lost moment in time.
In the end, Blue Moon serves as both a love letter to Hart and a reflection on the passing of time. It’s a film that celebrates the flawed genius of an artist whose best work continues to resonate long after his death. Whether or not you know the songs of Lorenz Hart, the emotional depth of Blue Moon is impossible to ignore. This film is a testament to the power of creativity and the poignancy of a life well-lived—however fleeting.
