A couple of us went to see Blue Moon Friday night. If you’ve not heard of this movie, it is inspired by the letters between Lorenz “Larry” Hart and the object of his late-in-life affection, Elizabeth Weiland. Hart, for those unfamiliar with the name, was the first principal writing partner of Richard Rodgers, before Oscar Hammerstein entered the picture. Rodgers and Hart write some pretty big musicals back in the early decades of the twentieth century, Babes in Arms and Pal Joey being perhaps the most famous. But Hart was a troubled soul, and years of drinking coupled with bouts of depression made him an unreliable writing partner. Which is when Hammerstein stepped in. The film takes place on a single night, unfolding in realtime at Sardi’s, the famous Manhattan bar where the Broadway stars would gather after their shows. (Still do.) The fateful night in question is the opening of Rodgers and Hammerstein’s first collaboration, and enormous hit, Oklahoma! And of course, Rodgers and Hammerstein would go on to be the most successful duo in Broadway history, with classics like The King & I, and The Sound of Music.
We follow Larry Hart as he arrives at Sardi’s early, full of piss and vinegar about this new musical, unable to hide his disdain for the writing, at least until Rodgers and Hammerstein and entourage arrive in a swirl of merry noise and telegrams wiring in about how much the critics are talking about it. He vacillates between jealousy, desperation, egotism, and love-sickness in a way that is, for the audience, at times hilarious, at times painful to watch, and never not riveting.
This may seem a long-winded preamble to what I really want to say, to what I really loved about the film. For while it’s well-imagined screenplay of conversations that may or may not have happened, and it may be a tour de force performance from Ethan Hawk as Lorenz Hart, the thing I loved the most about the film is how much it loved language.
Hart, in the beginning section of the film (if thirty minutes in can still be considered “the beginning” is talking to Eddie the bartender about the language of Oklahoma!, laying down a diatribe about how absurd the first lines of the opening number are. For those who don’t know, the opening number is “Oh, What a Beautiful Morning”, and the line in question is “The corn is as high / as a elephant’s eye”. Hart is borderline vitriolic about the comparison, for what would be the odds that an elephant would be loose on the Great Plains, hiding in the cornfields? He even goes so far as to question the title, and the use of an exclamation point, often referring to the musical as “Oklahoma exclamation point”.
In another sequence, he’s talking with Andy White. “Andy” was the nickname of E.B. White, as only his friends knew. White, by this time a well-established writer for the New Yorker, happens to be in Sardi’s, and Hart, in his usual display of frenetic dialog and uninhibited honesty, sits with White and discusses the language. In moments where Hart’s words are racing ahead of his brain and he stumbles looking for the right noun, verb, or adjective, White always manages to quietly, humbly provide the best choice.
I loved how “Blue Moon” focused, in part, on Hart’s love of language, how it drove him to write such memorable songs as “My Funny Valentine,” “The Lady Is a Tramp,” and, well, “Blue Moon.” But it’s not just Hart in love with the language. The film’s screenplay writer shows just as much love. In a quieter moment, after White confesses non-fiction has burnt him out and he’s trying to write a children’s novel, Hart relays a story about a mouse he catches in his kitchen every morning and releases into the park every day. And the next morning, the mouse is back in the kitchen. He’s even given it a name. Stuart. White considers this for a moment, then asks “With a U, or a W?”
It’s little moments like this that struck me and even now, two days later, I’m still thinking about it. And admiring it.
Scott Lyerly 