You Saw Me Standing Alone

It’s March 31, 1943. Opening night for Oklahoma!, the first musical written by Richard Rodgers and Oscar Hammerstein II, at the St. James Theatre on Broadway. Suffice it to say, everyone loves it.

Everyone, that is, except Lorenz Hart (Ethan Hawke), Rodgers’ former songwriting partner, who leaves the show during its title number and heads down the block to Sardi’s, where he proceeds to lambaste everything about the production, from its corny lyrics (pun intended) to the exclamation point in the show’s title.

It’s clear from the start that Hart is not just being catty; he’s also jealous of Rodgers and contemptuous of the show’s success. He knows it’s a lesser work. He still wishes he’d written it. “Am I bitter?” he asks the bartender (Bobby Cannavale). “Fuck yes!”

That’s the setup for Richard Linklater’s excellent new film, Blue Moon, which resists the usual biopic sweep, and focuses not on the stories behind Rodgers and Hart musicals like Pal Joey, On Your Toes, and Babes In Arms, or songs like “My Funny Valentine,” “The Lady Is a Tramp,” and the film’s title song, but rather, on the moment when Hart watches Rodgers leave him behind and move on to even greater success with Hammerstein. (The duo would go on to become the most successful songwriting team in American musical theater history, writing such enduring Broadway classics as Carousel, The King and I, South Pacific, and The Sound of Music.)

Blue Moon, written by Robert Kaplow (Me and Orson Welles), is set almost entirely inside Sardi’s, the iconic Broadway restaurant, where Hart — clearly, a regular presence — slouches at the end of the bar, alternately wry and wounded, as the Oklahoma! production team arrives for their opening-night celebration. The film plays out in real time over the course of nearly two hours, exploring why Hart and Rodgers’ relationship came apart and providing a glimpse into the start of Broadway’s new era.

At its heart (no pun intended) is Hawke’s charming, nuanced performance, one of the best of his career. Like Hart and Rodgers or Rodgers and Hammerstein, Linklater and Hawke have a long history together (Before Midnight and Boyhood, among their many collaborations), and here that familiarity definitely works in the film’s favor. With his diminutive size and comb-over hairstyle, the character of Hart might have been cartoonish with a lesser actor. Instead, Hawke’s portrayal shows us a man of immense talent and wit, but also one grappling with stubborn wounds, self-deception, and broken-hearted longing.

Two quotes at the start of the film — one from Hammerstein, who says that Hart was “alert and dynamic and fun to be around,” and another from cabaret legend Mabel Mercer, who describes Hart as “the saddest man I ever knew” — indicate the contradiction inherent in Hart’s personality, and Hawke portrays that paradox vividly, with the help of Kaplow’s smart, knowing, verbose screenplay and Linklater’s supportive direction.

Hawke gets the chance to be funny, self-assured, and articulate, as Hart holds court at the bar, cracking jokes and trading witty barbs — but also fearful, as he sees his career slip away before his very eyes. Whether it’s in his discussions with Rodgers (Andrew Scott) about the chances for a potential new collaboration, a conversation with E.B. White (Patrick Kennedy) about the art of writing, or his flirtations with a young college student (Margaret Qualley) who clearly doesn’t feel the same about Hart as he feels about her, the songwriter has all his defenses up, but the walls are cracking. He talks a big game, but it’s clear he knows the spotlight on him is fading. 

Blue Moon is a deceptively simple film. Yes, its one-location setting offers the impression that it could easily translate to the stage — the kind of meta theatrical production Broadway audiences would love. Linklater makes use of every room, wall, and corner, shooting much of the film in tight shots, bringing the camera in and out in smooth, subtle motions, but always letting the focus stay on the performances. He uses some camera angles to emphasize the characters’ contrasting heights or their statuses in the story. Meanwhile, the bar setting maintains an intimate feel, with the caricatures on the wall and the sounds of classics from the early days of Broadway playing on the piano both contributing to the feeling that we’re in a lived-in space and one where new stars are about to be named. 

As a theater fan, it’s thrilling to see these luminaries interact and to hear the initial reviews of Oklahoma! come in (via phone!), knowing you’re watching in real time a vibrant cultural scene at the start of its “Golden Age.” And yet, each of those enthusiastic reviews from the New York Times and other papers is like another dagger in Hart’s heart; his pain becomes ours as the film goes on.

And that’s why, while the film may be small in scale, it is large in feeling, made all the more memorable by Hawke’s wonderful performance and Linklater’s assured direction. Sure, Blue Moon may be targeted to a niche audience, but the themes covered here are universal. The film is a celebration of a Broadway legend and a lament about what — and who — gets left behind when strong, fruitful relationships end. 

It’s one of the year’s best.

I’m giving Blue Moon an A–.