Blue Moon
Movies like “Blue Moon” are a tonic, an example of a filmmaker finding a way into their subject in an unorthodox way through inventiveness and imagination. Richard Linklater is no newcomer to that, however; he’s often used form and setting to his advantage to create memorable films. In “Blue Moon,” he and his writer- Richard Kaplow (who wrote the source material for Linklater’s “Me and Orson Welles”)- use an unlikely source- correspondences between lyricist Lorenz Hart and student Elizabeth Weiland- to get us into the mind and heart of their main character. Their setting is another layer of invention.
Lorenz Hart was a renowned lyricist in the early 20th century whose work includes “Blue Moon,” “My Funny Valentine,” “The Lady is a Tramp” and “Manhattan.” He collaborated with Richard Rodgers on a number of stage and screen musicals, and had briefly started work on another musical before Rodgers would finish the collaboration with Oscar Hammerstein. The musical was “Oklahomma!,” and would be the start of that iconic duo’s run. “Blue Moon” is set largely on opening night of the production, and Hart is not a fan. But, he is still invited to the opening night party, which is where the film is set. Throughout the night, Hart is regaling people at the bar with stories of his life, and his adoration of Weiland (Margaret Qualley), whom has shown him affection.
“Blue Moon” is a fairly significant showcase for Ethan Hawke as Hart. Much of the movie has him telling stories to the bartender (Bobby Cannavale), who is clearly a friend; Knuckles (Jonah Lees), which is the nickname he gives the pianist at the bar; and columnist E.B. White (Patrick Kennedy), who is at the bar. The film is all conversation, with insights about its main character being the highlight. In real life, Hart was 4’10”, and Hawke is very much not (as his recent return as The Grabber in “Black House 2” illustrates); to make it work, Linklater uses forced perspective, and I’ll be damned if it isn’t effective, especially as we see Weiland practically tower over him. The same goes with Rodgers (Andrew Scott) and Hammerstein (Simon Delaney). His scenes with Rodgers in particular have a weight, as Hart tries to be friendly about his feelings for the new show, and trying to nudge Rodgers back into collaboration. Scott plays it deftly, showing Hart a degree of empathy that he probably doesn’t earn, but we feel like he deserve. There’s also a sweetness to his scenes with Qualley, especially as we see his expectations for their relationship crash on the walls. At the heart of it all is Hart, whose philosophy- and wicked wit- towards writing is palpable, and carries the film through its verbose 100 minutes. Our first image of Hart is, actually, him passing out in a dark alley months later; in four days, he will die of pneumonia. For that evening, however, that makes up the rest of the film, he is alive, in all his pain, his humor and his creativity. It’s a sense of responsibility to the memory of an artist he richly deserved, which Linklater gives him. I really loved this film.
