March 31, 1943, was a watershed moment for American musical theatre; opening night of Oklahoma!  Having sat through the previews already, Lorenz Hart (Ethan Hawke) slips out of the St. James Theatre for a drink at Sardi’s restaurant.  There, he laments to the barkeeper Eddie (Bobby Cannavale) and piano player Morty (Jonah Lees) about the heartbreak he still feels over the professional split with his longtime composer, Richard Rogers (Andrew Scott), who partnered with lyricist Oscar Hammerstein II (Simon Delaney) on this silly little cornfield-set musical where the leading man – named Curly, of all ridiculous things – ends up with the girl at the end. 

Richard Linklater directs Blue Moon from a script by Robert Kaplow who compiled and narrativized various letters and writings from Hart to frame the story; an experiment somewhere in the crossroads of Robert Altman’s Secret Honor (1984) and Matt Brown’s Freud’s Last Session (2023).  Running an even 100 minutes, the film/acting exercise rests almost entirely on Hawke’s shoulders as cast, crew, and bar staff all come in and out of Sardi’s to be regaled by the on-the-precipice-of-disgrace lyricist.  It premiered in competition at the Berlinale where Scott was awarded the Silver Bear for Best Supporting Performance, and some six months later Sony Pictures Classics took the film on a barely wide release for domestic audiences. 

Hawke is committed to a role that allows him incredible latitude since the entire film hinges on his performance, but the script has stronger ideas than it necessarily does dialogue.  Physically, he is asked to debase himself in front of Shane F. Kelly’s thankfully steady lens: he slouches to so that he is always the shortest figure in the frame, wears a thinning wig designed by Katie Ballard, undeniably aware of where his hair has fled but being careful not to fuss with it lest draw attention to his own insecurity.  It is a pretty incredible transformation, however, every now and again Hawke looks at the camera and his piercing eyes shatter the illusion ever so slightly in that moment. He is able to quickly rebound, though, and performance wise, Hawke plays Hart with a patheticism about him, just shy of being completely washed up but standing with his feet in the surf nonetheless, it is not always clear if there is compassion being shown by the actor towards his character or not.  While not a necessity to deliver a strong performance – which, to be clear, Hawke does do here – having a little more insight on how the actor feels about the character does help audiences come to a cleaner opinion on the work as a whole, especially since Hawke is at the center of the universe of the film. 

Hawke is buoyed by a strong supporting cast in Blue Moon that each bring their own charm and arc to the story, and because the film is set at a party, Kaplow does not need to worry too much about transitioning scene to scene as he can quickly end one conversation and start another as different characters interrupt briefly to share their pleasantries with Richard who is being held socially captive by Lorenz for much of the middle act.  The script does suffer in some of these introductions as we feel Kaplow elbowing us in our sides at the who’s who of Broadway converges on Sardi’s.  He goes out of his way to weave in all of these little details about iconic works that have not yet been put to paper and it becomes a very specifically distracting brand of foreshadowing that, again, because the script seems unsure of to what regard it holds Lorenz, we never quite understand if Blue Moon is treating him like a wider muse or a relic of the past the refused to evolve his craft with the changing temperaments of the American audience.

In lesser hands than either Linklater or Hawke, Blue Moon would have devolved into an absolute slog, and even with their careful fostering of the material, the film gets a little antsy as the runtime wears on. It is an interesting work, but with a little more probing interrogation of Hart on Kaplow’s part instead of what can be, admittedly disingenuously, categorized as an airing of fears and grievances, the film could have been greatly improved. As jolting as the menagerie of supporting figures are, they are just leaping off points for Hart with the singular exception of Elizabeth Weiland (Margaret Qualley) whose story about a torrid affair is the closest thing to a narrative thread that holds this piece somewhat together. While she is offered the most of to do of anyone in the film not counting Hawke, that the role still comes off so loose and shaggy is the damning evidence that this script is just too unsure of what it wants to do to make it an effective work. It holds our attention, sure, but the lack of thesis really holds this film back from being something great, and unlike the enduring power of Lorenz and Hart’s work, Blue Moon will fade quickly from the consciousness.