“Nobody ever loved me that much.”
This, according to Lorenz Hart (Ethan Hawke), is the best line in “Casablanca.” At the beginning of Richard Linklater’s “Blue Moon,” Larry – a diminutive, walking cigar –swirls into Sardi’s, where the afterparty for the premiere of the musical “Oklahoma!” will take place. First, he talks “Casablanca.” Later, he starts ragging on the show.
Lyricist Lorenz Hart was one half of the songwriting duo Rodgers and Hart, the other half made up by composer Richard Rodgers. You probably know him better as one half of the songwriting duo Rodgers and Hammerstein, the most famous team in musical theater history. But before Rodgers and Hammerstein, Rodgers and Hart dominated the musical scene for 20 years, giving us songs like “My Funny Valentine,” “Bewitched, Bothered, and Bewildered,” and “Blue Moon.”
“Blue Moon” stars Hawke as Larry on the worst night of his life – March 31, 1943, the night of the premiere of “Oklahoma!” “Oklahoma!” was Rodgers and Hammerstein’s first work together and, at the time, the biggest hit in musical history. Hart, who struggled with depression and alcoholism, would die just seven months later at the age of 48.
In “Blue Moon,” Larry’s affection for that line from “Casablanca” might as well stand in as the thesis of the film. The script, written by Robert Kaplow, beautifully captures the contradictions of the artist. Lorenz Hart was a man plagued by self-loathing and hubris in equal measure, a man whose propensity for drink tended to overshadow his talent for humor, rhythm, and rhyme. Within Lorenz Hart, Kaplow finds the innate tension of the human condition – our self-destructiveness, our complexity, and our desire to be loved.
When Larry enters Sardi’s, the bar immediately becomes the setting of “The Larry Show.” He acts out a scene from “Casablanca” with the bartender, Eddie (Bobby Canavale) before discussing the finer points of the film’s script. He waxes poetic about a 20-year-old college student, Elizabeth (Margaret Qualley), who is coming to the premiere party and with whom he’s fallen in love. He invites the attractive delivery boy to a party at his place later that evening (he then tells Eddie that he considers himself “ambisexual”). He also starts to rag on “Oklahoma!”, admitting he’s bitter, but certain in his conviction that it’s hokey, Americana nonsense.
As Larry talks (and talks, and talks, and talks), you begin to see both his appeal and his folly. His stories are full of funny turns of phrase, references galore, and poetry. He understands art on an intrinsic level the way few people do, and he values beautiful, interesting things that bring him pleasure above all else (people included). But his insecurities often rear their ugly heads in both small and large ways. He is certain that Richard (Andrew Scott) selected Oscar Hammerstein II (Simon Delaney) as a writing partner because he is very tall, and Richard knew that would make Larry mad. He admits that he understands why Elizabeth never asks him about his own life – he’s far less interesting than her, why should she care?
He’s also a man unable to see past his vices. The shot on the table in front of him will always call to him more than anything else – beautiful things that bring him pleasure, you see. Hawke plays these two competing souls dextrously, his expressive face always betraying just a hint of the self-loathing that lies beneath.
Whether you’re a fan of “Oklahoma!” or not, there is something undeniable about its construction and its wartime appeal. While you could argue “Show Boat” did a similar thing almost 20 years earlier, “Oklahoma!” is considered the first musical to completely integrate song and dance into the story, using them not just as showstopping moments, but as ways to further plot and character development. For all its limitations and its hokiness (and Larry’s not wrong, it is hokey), it does not shy away from its character’s darker moments in songs like “Pore Jud is Daid” – for all of Larry’s talk about optimism, it’s pretty radically bleak to have your protagonist sing a song where he essentially tries to convince another character to commit suicide.
Despite this darkness, everyone in “Oklahoma!” ends up happy (though the optimism of the musical’s ending has since been reinterpreted and reevaluated). Larry is unable to see past what he views as an overflow of sentiment. Larry holds a terrible disdain for sentimentality and maintains this division between he and Richard is what drove them to split on “Oklahoma!” Richard might say it was Larry’s constant binge drinking and lack of work ethic, but to each their own.
In “Blue Moon,” that disdain stems from a deep-rooted fear that Larry will never be appreciated and loved the way that he appreciates and loves. This fear becomes true in his relationship with Elizabeth. While it’s clear she holds a deep well of love for Larry – and, as revealed in one of the film’s best scenes, sees a lot of herself in his desperation to be loved – Elizabeth does not love him in “that way.” This is a phrase he’s heard before, but it never gets easier to stomach. When Richard lightly berates him about not being able to imagine a world where the guy gets the girl at the end, Larry remarks that it’s “too easy.” This puts Richard on the defensive (Scott is wonderful throughout, carrying both frustration and affection in spades), But in his defensiveness he misses Larry’s lie – imagining a world where two people simply fall in love, and that’s that, is the hardest thing in the world for him.
Larry is a motormouth, but as good as Hawke is at talking, his best moment in the film is one where he’s silent. He’s just finished lying to everyone about how much he loves “Oklahoma!”, although the lie is apparent to anyone who cares to look. When the piano player (Jonah Lees) leaves him alone in the bathroom, cutting him off mid-story, Larry is stuck alone with his thoughts. It all comes flooding up. Have I been too callous? Should I apologize? Does everyone hate me? Will anyone ever love a work of mine this much? Will anyone ever love me this much?
Larry’s biggest flaw – beyond the drinking, beyond the depression – is his inability to see that people do love him. Just not in the way he deems enough. It all comes back to “Casablanca” – “Nobody ever loved me that much.”