Review by Eric Hillis
Directed by: Richard Linklater
Starring: Ethan Hawke, Margaret Qualley, Bobby Cannavale, Andrew Scott, Simon Delaney
The writer Gore Vidal famously said "Every time a friend succeeds, I die a little." Vidal's line was presumably a play on Cole Porter's "Every time we say goodbye, I die a little" line from his song 'Ev'ry Time We Say Goodbye'. Richard Linklater's Blue Moon isn't about Cole Porter; it's centred on one of the other Great American Songbook writers, Lorenz Hart. We suspect Hart shares the envious and romantic sentiments of both Vidal and Porter, as this is a movie about his jealousy towards Oscar Hammerstein II, the man who replaced him as part of his prolific partnership with composer Richard Rodgers, and his unrequited love for young Yale student Elizabeth Weiland.
Hart is played by Linklater regular Ethan Hawke, here resembling a Star Trek actor taking a cigarette break in the middle of having their Ferengi make-up applied. He portrays the five-foot-nothing lyricist through a combination of practical and digital effects (which mostly work, though there is one shot that is so exaggerated for comic effect that it's all too clear Hawke is standing in a hole). Hawke's mincing performance as the gay songwriter is so camp it's borderline offensive, but it's undeniably entertaining and it's imbued with heart.
Hawke plays Hart like the world's most engrossing pub bore, a sawn-off shotgun shellacking anyone in range with anecdotes and witticisms they've probably heard multiple times before. But we the audience are hearing all this for the first time, and we understand why he's a lyrical genius. Movies about writers often fail to convince because they're written by screenwriters who don't have the same level of talent as their subject. I highly doubt Blue Moon's screenwriter Robert Kaplow could match Hart's songwriting talents, but his script is a goldmine of witty wordplay, clearly the work of someone in love with language, as was Hart.
With all of the drama taking place within the confines of New York's Sardi's restaurant, you might argue this is merely a filmed version of a play that doesn't exist. But when the dialogue is this rich and energetic, and the central performance this captivating, few will see this as a negative. Besides, this isn't a case of the dialogue cheaply telling the story. Quite the opposite. Almost everything Hart says is bullshit, a mask for his true feelings.
The film is set on March 31st, 1943, the premiere of 'Oklahoma!', Rodgers' first collaboration with Hammerstein II after 24 years of working alongside Hart. Unable to handle what he views as a humiliation, Hart skips out on the musical and seeks refuge in Sardi's. But the bar soon fills with reminders of Hart's insecurities. Rodgers (Andrew Scott) and Hammerstein II (Simon Delaney, whose Great American Songbook-filled show on Ireland's Lyric FM soundtracks my Sunday dinner each week) convene at Sardi's after the premiere to soak up adoration and await the first reviews. The diminutive Hart almost seems to shrink even further in their presence, doing his best to praise their work when we've just witnessed him eviscerate the show he calls "Oklahomo!" prior to their arrival.
If Hart's professional humiliation isn't enough we also witness his heart breaking in real time courtesy of Weiland (Margaret Qualley). Before her arrival Hart boasts of his improbable conquest of the young beauty to Sardi's bartender (Bobby Cannavale), and if we were in any doubt that he's greatly exaggerating her interest in him, it's made all too clear once we see him in the shadow of this statuesque blonde. Weiland is portrayed as a social climber happy to use Hart as her latest stepladder. She's probably honest when she says she respects him, but she's brutally blunt when she states that she loves him, just "not that way." Hawke plays Hart's reaction to the three words no man ever wants to hear in a quietly devastating manner. To paraphrase a famous Simpsons moment, you can almost pinpoint the split second where his heart is crushed. There's an ambiguity to this gay man's pursuit of a beautiful young woman. Is he trying to fit in with societal expectations or is his love for Weiland so pure it transcends sexuality?
This is undoubtedly the role of Hawke's life, and it might be Linklater's best work since Before Sunrise. Both the actor and the director play to their strengths here. Hawke is one of our most empathetic actors, and even while Hart is displaying a braggadocious front, Hawke ensures we can see the insecurity in his eyes. His Hart isn't exactly likeable - he's entitled and self-absorbed, even a little creepy (and given it's the middle of WWII, any issues he has are the very definition of first world problems) - but he's relatably human and vulnerable. Linklater is experienced enough to know his best tactic is to give his leading man room to breathe, and his direction is free of theatrics as his subject is theatrical enough.
The only manner in which Blue Moon lets itself down is in its embracing of the biopic cliché of its protagonist meeting other famous figures and having a small but profound inspiration on their most famous work. In this case it's the writer EB White, to whom he germinates the idea for 'Stuart Little', and future The Sting/Butch Cassidy and the Sundance Kid director George Roy Hill, whom he advises to make movies about "friendship." But a couple of eye-rolling moments don't detract from what is an absorbing look at the fragility of an artist who craves love but ultimately has to comfort himself with respect.
Blue Moon is in UK/ROI cinemas from November 28th.
