Hawke

Editor’s Note: This review was originally published during the 2025 Berlin Film Festival. Sony Pictures Classics releases “Blue Moon” in select theaters beginning Friday, October 17.

In Richard Linklater’s “Before Sunrise,” Julie Delpy’s Céline suggests that “If there’s any kind of magic in this world, it must be in the attempt of understanding someone, sharing something.” Thirty years after Céline and Ethan Hawke’s Jesse fell in love, Linklater reunites with Hawke for “Blue Moon,” the long-time collaborators’ latest attempt to find that magic. The film in question seeks to understand Lorenz Hart, the great American lyricist who — alongside composer Richard Rodgers — is responsible for countless classics to be found in the great American songbook. But from the outset, Linklater understands the inherent difficulty that comes with capturing such a singular voice all these decades later. 

“Blue Moon” opens with two wildly contrasting quotes. One is from Oscar Hammerstein II, who claimed that Hart was “alert and dynamic and fun to be around.” The other is from cabaret legend Mabel Mercer, who describes him as “the saddest man I ever knew.” Both are true, of course, as Linklater captures so vividly, yet it’s telling that the more positive of the two quotes comes from Hammerstein, who replaced Hart as Rodgers’ partner and went on to create the musical “Oklahoma!,” which enjoyed more success than Richard ever found with his previous collaborator.

Set on the opening night of “Oklahoma!” in 1943, “Blue Moon” takes place entirely in the bar where Rodgers is set to greet his adoring public and celebrate what will eventually become regarded as one of the greatest musicals ever written. Hart doesn’t exactly share that sentiment. Throughout the night, which we experience alongside him in real-time, Richard’s former partner takes swipes at “Oklahoma!” at any given opportunity (most of which he creates for himself). 

“Am I bitter?” he asks Bobby Cannavale’s somewhat crass but well meaning bartender. “Fuck yes!” But even with so much bias against such a beloved American classic, Hart does make some good points. Why, of all things, is the corn described to be “as high as an elephant’s eye” in the song “Oh, What A Beautiful Mornin’”? And why does the title need an exclamation point? That jab has the added benefit of doubling as a wink to fans of Linklater’s “Everybody Wants Some!!,” which speaks to the knowing wit that drives “Blue Moon” forward. 

Through Hart, Linklater might have just found the perfect protagonist in whom to channel his signature chatty style. The writer famous for penning “My Funny Valentine,” “The Lady is a Tramp,” and the titular “Blue Moon” might be known for his exquisitely heart-wrenching ballads, but it’s his searing wordplay and wild overconfidence that dominate here; Hart is loaded endless quips and vulgar jokes that he just about gets away with depending on his audience. Robert Kaplow, who previously co-wrote Linklater’s underrated “Me and Orson Welles,” is clearly having so much fun with this screenplay, especially when he taps into widely circulated rumors around Hart’s sexuality.

The sexiest thing in the world, according to Hart, “is a half-erect penis.” That’s because a full one is an exclamation point — “The story’s already over” — but a half-erect penis? “Is it coming or is it going?,” Hart asks with a smirk, freely playing into what people thought of him at a time when few would be so ballsy (for want of a better word). When asked directly if he prefers men to women, Hart describes himself as “ambisexual,” a person who “can jerk off equally well with either hand.” This gatling gun approach to conversation can be a bit much, often making the movie feel like a one-man show whose supporting cast is being held hostage, but that’s very much the point. For some, Hart was just too much to be around. That’s especially true of Rodgers, who could no longer stand working with him so closely while working around his alcoholism for the better part of 25 years. 

“Your work is brilliant,” Rodgers tells Hart in a rare moment where he’s not trying to escape the clutches of his former partner and return to the party. “That’s not the problem.” No, the problem is that Hart is terribly sad and even more lonely — almost desperate, in fact. The endless talking and constant showboating, this perpetual “performing” as Hart himself puts it, reveals a man drowning in insecurity without actually explaining his feelings as such. Even the mouse who visits Hart each morning in his 19th floor apartment has stopped coming. 

Despite, or perhaps because of his pain, Hart is charming and “overwhelming” in equal measure, a force of audacious, vibrating energy. When he describes his writing protege Elizabeth (Margaret Qualley), dedicating reams of adjectives and metaphors to her beauty, he says upon first meeting her that “It was as if she was breathing different air to me.” Yet there’s very little air left for anyone to breathe when Hart begins to talk.

In lesser hands, this could have proved cartoonish or even unbearable, but Ethan Hawke is theatrical in the best way possible, commanding the screen with his every gesture and utterance without overplaying any of them. His energy thrums like a choir line vibrato, like “the sexiest thing in the world,” especially in the first third when we’re still getting to know Hart before Rodgers arrives. It’s in these scenes where “Blue Moon” works best — practically “levitating,” to borrow the word Hart uses to describe the hallmark of great art, which pulls you off the ground in ways that approach divinity. Linklater almost manages that here in the film’s best moments, even if “Blue Moon” does wane a tad in the middle.  

Once Hart’s former partner arrives, endless congratulations and glowingly positive review excerpts punctuate their conversation as Hart tries his best to get back in Richard’s good books without letting on how he really feels about “Oklahoma!”. Andrew Scott’s composer is the opposite of Hart in every way, as the pair were described in life. We’re only with them this one night, but there’s a lived-in chemistry between Scott and Hawke, as if they’re an old married couple but one doesn’t fully realize the relationship is over while the other has already moved on. Comfortable familiarity and an awkward desire to escape co-exist like the two quotes at the start, both true in incongruous harmony. Scott’s never overwhelmed by Hawke in the same way that most of the other characters are overwhelmed by Hart, grounded in his success and even pity that comes in waves for his so-called oldest “friend.” 

Eleven years after Linklater won the Silver Bear prize for his Oscar-winning “Boyhood,” Ethan Hawke might just have a shot at that same level of award recognition for his performance here in “Blue Moon.” It’s transformative in a way that the Academy loves, making Hawke appear five feet tall when he should in fact be the one towering over Scott, not the other way round. Yet he never seems smaller than he does when Qualley’s “Irreplaceable Elizabeth” doesn’t give Hart the love he’s so desperate for. Her monologue in the third act is a juicy one, mirroring the “irrational adoration” Hart feels with Elizabeth’s own story of unrequited love. Yet it’s Hart’s reaction, a rare moment of vulnerability that’s been wrenched out of him against his will, that intrigues more than the actual story itself. 

Together, she, Hawke and Scott form a fascinating push-and-pull dynamic where they’re simultaneously swept up in each other and against each other too. The fact this all plays out in real-time heightens that effect considerably, sweeping us up in the maelstrom of Hart’s bravado thanks to Hawke’s signature charm, even if it is undercut by something else barely concealed below the surface. Because even when his hands are clasped together in glee, waiting to hear the next part of Elizabeth’s salacious story with bated breath, Hawke plays Hart with an underlying sadness. 

Towards the end, just as things begin to wind down, the script punctuates this with a few exclamation points of its own, some offhand comments about how Hart’s “biggest stuff is still to come” and that “it’s like you’re writing my obituary.” Rodgers even suggests he go get help at Doctor’s Hospital, the same hospital where Hart did in fact end up dying seven months later of pneumonia. We know that because this is where the film began, in a freezing, rainy alleyway before settling into the wistful chamber piece it swiftly becomes. With this foresight to hand, “Blue Moon” plays into Linklater’s usual themes of time and memory and even dreaming in a more subtle yet no less poignant way than usual. 

That becomes clearest in the words “Nobody ever loved me that much,” Hart’s favorite line from “Casablanca,” which becomes his refrain throughout. Because here, we’re watching a film set in the ’40s which draws emotional resonance from an older classic while we sit with the knowledge of what’s to come and consider what could have been; how Hart’s legacy could have surpassed what Rodgers and Hammerstein achieved if he’d handled life differently. Yet “Blue Moon” doesn’t end in tragedy, even if we already know Hart’s story does. Instead, we end in the middle of a story Hart liked to tell, creating the illusion of a party — of a bar hangout that never ends. A story with no exclamation point, if you like, just as Hart would have wanted. 

But would he have liked this film overall or would he have despised “Blue Moon” just as he did the song that shares its name, the song for which he would become best known? That’s harder to say, although it’s tempting to imagine he would have enjoyed the attention and validation such a work brings, even if he might not love every aspect of it. The result is magic regardless, the kind Linklater strives for throughout his work, because it brings us closer to understanding Hart in all of his contradictory splendor, even if it doesn’t succeed completely. 

Grade: B+

“Blue Moon” premiered at the 2025 Berlin International Film Festival. Sony Pictures Classics releases it in theaters starting Friday, October 17.

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