Blue Moon is a biopic about the rise and fall of Lorenz “Larry” Hart, the lyricist half of the famed Rodgers and Hart duo—before Richard Rodgers went on to partner with Oscar Hammerstein. Directed by Richard Linklater (Slacker, School of Rock, Dazed and Confused), the film blends his signature long-form storytelling with a fresh theatrical backdrop. The story unfolds in the late 1940s at Sardi’s, the legendary Manhattan bar where writers, composers, directors, and performers gathered to celebrate opening nights and trade stories.
Ethan Hawke plays Hart, whose nearly twenty-year collaboration with Rodgers (Andrew Scott) is fraying under the weight of Hart’s drinking, anxiety, and compulsive storytelling. The early stretch of the film tested my patience; Larry’s insecurity and self-importance make him difficult to watch. But Hawke gradually moves beyond the monologue-heavy opening into a more layered, empathetic portrayal that reveals the pain and brilliance driving Hart’s behavior.
The film hints at Hart’s complicated romantic longings—directed toward both men and women. His flirtations with a pianist, a flower delivery boy, and his young student protégé Elizabeth Weiland (Margaret Qualley) add dimension to his restlessness and declining mental health. Elizabeth’s preserved letters inspired the screenplay, and in the film, she becomes both muse and mirror: wise beyond her years, gently rejecting Larry’s fantasies while still relying on his connections to meet the major figures of the theater world.
The evening at Sardi’s centers on the opening of Oklahoma!, whose rave reviews cement the success of Rodgers and Hammerstein. Hart tries to be gracious, but inside he’s seething. He finds the show’s wholesome Americana tone deaf during wartime and considers it a creative step backward. Rodgers, still fond of Hart from their youth, offers him a chance to write songs for a revival of A Connecticut Yankee, but even his patience is wearing thin as Hart’s professionalism slips away.
Much of the film takes place inside Larry’s mind—his fantasies, regrets, and longing for relevance. Hawke captures Hart’s brilliance and fragility with sharp, witty dialogue and a physical performance full of nervous energy. The only distraction is the obvious “comb over” hairpiece, which occasionally looks artificial against Hawke’s shaved head.
Sardi’s itself becomes a character, a crossroads for the greats of Broadway’s golden age—E.B. White, Stephen Sondheim, George Roy Hill, and of course Hart. When you look past Hart’s human frailties, his genius is unmistakable. His lyrics—The Lady Is a Tramp, My Funny Valentine, Where or When, and of course Blue Moon—remain some of the most iconic in American music. By the end of the film, I found myself appreciating both his mad brilliance and the emotional intensity that shaped his life.
Susan Lovegren for KQSD’s Film Gang.
