Sumptuous ‘Blue Moon’ will put a song in your heart
When Rodgers and Hammerstein opened “Oklahoma!” on Broadway on March 31, 1943, it signaled a seismic shift, not just in musical theater, but in the culture in general. It wasn’t quite Beatlemania, but it was close, as this dynamic new partnership expanded Broadway’s reach far beyond New York City into mainstream America, offering a significant boost in morale for a nation and a world at war. But at least one man was not amused.
That would be Richard Rodgers’ former collaborator, Lorenz Hart, the witty, diminutive lyricist whose contributions to the duo’s beloved standards, such as “My Funny Valentine,” “Isn’t It Romantic,” “The Lady Is a Tramp” and “Blue Moon,” have largely gone – pardon the pun – unsung. Seeking to remedy that slight are Richard Linklater and his longtime cohort, Ethan Hawke, who in their ninth go-round together have crafted the ultimate tribute in this hugely entertaining endeavor they’ve aptly titled “Blue Moon.”
I say “aptly” because, like the song, the mood is unmistakably bittersweet, as the pair, along with scenarist Robert Kaplow, harken back to that pivotal night from the perspective of an insanely jealous Hart, still reeling from the recent professional split from his partner of more than 20 years. As Linklater intended, it’s very much a “breakup movie,” as Hart struggles to put on a happy face while watching his ex enjoy the night of his life.
Hawke is almost unrecognizable as Hart when we spot him ducking out early from the Saint James Theatre to head over to the legendary Sardi’s for what’s expected to be a grand celebration. Once there, he’s warmly greeted by Eddie (Bobby Cannavale), the resident bartender and Hart’s de facto shrink and not very successful safeguard for keeping him on the wagon. The power of their rapport is immediately evident as Eddie humors his pal while enduring Hart’s acid-tongued critiques of the production he’s just witnessed. Oh, and always making sure to sardonically add the words “exclamation point” after every mention of “Oklahoma!”
What’s most admirable about Hawke’s flawless performance is how the handsome 5-foot-10 actor entirely disappears into the role of a balding, nondescript, sexually ambiguous man barely 5 feet in height. This masterful sleight of hand, abetted by cinematographer Shane F. Kelly, is so convincing that you’d swear you were in the presence of the real Hart. It’s an easy sell that must have been difficult for Hawke to pull off, given the reams of nuanced dialogue he is asked to deliver across a spectrum of tones, ranging from bitingly sarcastic to wistful and defeated.
If you detect more than a hint of Truman Capote in the air, you wouldn’t be far off, as Hawke indulges Hart’s gift for gab with warmth and passion. You’re drawn to him like a moth to a flame as he works the barroom, flitting about, exchanging greetings with Morty (Jonah Lees), the resident pianist, and another tortured artist, E.B. White (Patrick Kennedy), sitting alone formulating ideas for his next novel, “Charlotte’s Web.”
Then, like a burst balloon, Hart completely deflates as Rodgers (Andrew Scott) and Oscar Hammerstein II (Simon Delaney) enter the establishment to effusive praise from the small crowd that has gathered. You may as well shove Hart into the darkest corner. That’s how insignificant he’s suddenly rendered, a has-been whose past accomplishments he feels have lost all significance. And he’s pretty much treated as such by the many in attendance, except for Rodgers, who still carries immense compassion for his friend and onetime inspiration.
Kaplow’s script presents them with a handful of one-on-one conversations in which Rodgers must tolerate Hart’s insincere congratulations and ridiculous ideas for reteaming on a musical about the adventures of Marco Polo. There’s real love there, though, evident when Hart pulls Rodgers aside and the two reminisce about the first time they met. Hart, teary-eyed, tells his old chum how moved he was when he initially recognized Rodgers’ uncanny gift for melody.
You can sense the symbiosis, with Scott pitch perfect as Rodgers, a dapper, congenial guy, patient beyond all reason. But the showstopper is Margaret Qualley as the flirty, platinum-coiffed Elizabeth Weiland, a haughty 20-year-old Yale student who, through a series of exchanged letters, has given the 47-year-old Hart the mistaken idea she is attracted to him.
She’s actually just a social climber seeking access to Hart’s “friends.” But you discern something more to the relationship during an engrossing 20-minute segment in which the two steal away and Weiland details an intimate encounter she had with a hunky frat boy five months back on her birthday. Like us, Hart listens with rapt attention. It’s a monologue that’s sexy and seductive, but ultimately emotionally wrenching for Hart as realizes that such sexual escapades are not in the cards for him and his muse.
If there is a flaw, it’s the somewhat pretentious appearances of cameos by soon-to-be-famous talents such as Stephen Sondheim and Oscar-winning director George Roy Hill, whom Hart urges to do “buddy pictures.” As if we are to believe that nugget of advice led to the making of “Butch Cassidy and the Sundance Kid” and “The Sting?” But it certainly fits this film’s palsy-walsy motif, although Rodgers and Hart are more like Ratso Rizzo and Joe Buck in “Midnight Cowboy” than the tandem of Paul Newman and Robert Redford in Hill’s twin classics.
It’s silly, but in keeping with the anything-goes, fever-dream-like mood Linklater seeks to create by imagining what that night was like for an artist as insecure as Hart. It’s utterly relatable to anyone who’s suffered through a relationship in which your ex grows and prospers while you remain stuck. Or, like Hart, drinks himself into a grave less than a year later at age 48.
But, as they say, that’s showbiz, a profession in which no matter how great you once were, it will always be about “what have you done lately.” In the case of Linklater and Hawke, what they’ve done is deliver something bordering on magical, and they’ve accomplished it with great humor and empathy. Or, more simply put, they’ve given heart to Hart.
Movie review
Blue Moon
Rated: R for language
Cast: Ethan Hawke, Margaret Qualley, Bobby Cannavale, Andrew Scott, Simon Delaney and Patrick Kennedy
Director: Richard Linklater
Writer: Robert Kaplow
Runtime: 100 minutes
Where: In theaters, expanding Oct. 24
Grade: B+
