On the evening of March 31, 1943, legendary lyricist Lorenz Hart confronts his shattered self-confidence in Sardi’s bar as his former collaborator Richard Rodgers celebrates the opening night of...
Richard Linklater’s bittersweet “Blue Moon” feels like one of those late night conversations that starts with a few too many drinks and ends with someone crying over their gin and tonic. It’s talky, theatrical, and set entirely in a bar, offering a smoky slice of 1943 nostalgia where regret and wit go hand in hand. It’s at once awkward yet comfortable, and Linklater executes the story exceedingly well.
The film takes place at Sardi’s on the opening night of “Oklahoma!,” the musical that would make Richard Rodgers (Andrew Scott) a Broadway god and leave his former lyricist, Lorenz Hart (Ethan Hawke), by the wayside. The film imagines the night as one long unraveling, a boozy, bitter, and occasionally funny autopsy of musical genius and male friendship gone sideways.
Hawke is terrific as Hart, full of nervous charm and faint vulnerability. He’s a man who knows he’s burning out but can’t stop feeding the flame. He flirts, he pontificates, and he eagerly picks fights he can’t win. His barroom audience includes weary bartender Eddie (Bobby Cannavale), a young pianist in uniform (Jonah Lees), and a few bemused onlookers, and they all mostly just let him talk. And talk he does. If you aren’t a fan of dialogue-heavy entertainment, you’re not going to enjoy this one. This is a movie strictly powered by whiskey and words.
Scott gets less screen time but makes it count. His scenes with Hawke are like watching two old bandmates trying to play a song they’ve both outgrown. As Yale college student and Hart’s much younger muse Elizabeth, Margaret Qualley adds a ghostly sort of innocence to the evening’s chatter, though her character feels more like a symbolic ideal than a real person. She also magnifies the emotional pain of Hart’s addiction, sexuality, and fear of leaving behind no legacy at all.
There’s a lot of chatter about art, love, and the fleeting nature of success, all written by Robert Kaplow with rhythm and lived-in detail. The profound and honest dialogue doesn’t tell the story of a new love found and kindled, but one of love and time lost. It’s a melancholy reminder that people eventually move on and some of us will be left all alone.
“Blue Moon” won’t be for everyone, as it’s stagey, slow, and proud of its own verbosity. But for those who appreciate a good, bruised conversation about art and failure, it’s a beautifully faded portrait of a man who knew he’d already written his last hit.
