Yesterday, we went to see the new film Blue Moon, the sad story of lyricist Lorenz Hart of Rodgers and Hart fame. You will either like the film or not, but you will have to admit that it is not your normal biopic, and you will have to give it credit for what it tried to do (whether or not you think it succeeded).

First, some background. Richard Rodgers and Lorenz Hart first met at Columbia University, collaborating on writing for some student shows. Later they became a song writing duo, with Rodgers writing the music and Hart the lyrics. “Blue Moon”, “My Funny Valentine”, “The Lady is a Tramp”, “This Can’t Be Love”, “Bewitched Bothered and Bewildered”, and many, many more. They worked together for over 20 years, and their work included the music for many Broadway hit shows, like Pal Joey and The Boys from Syracuse.

Richard Rodgers seems to have been a quite normal guy with a lot of talent. Lorenz Hart also had a lot of talent, but normalcy was not one of his most obvious traits. Lorenz Hart was one sad fellow. He was barely 5 feet tall (if that), was probably attracted to men as much or more than he was to women, never had a true romantic relationship, and lived with his mother. All of his wishes and deepest desires he put into his lyrics. His lyrics seem to have been his life.

During their successful years, Hart made a lot of money and gained a lot of fame. I think people liked and respected him, and he was always a welcoming friend and hosted party after party. But hosting parties where other guests got the girls or the guys was not healthy, particularly if you were an alcoholic. Lorenz Hart was an alcoholic. And as Hart’s alcoholism got worse, his ability to work with Rodgers (or anyone else) became more and more troubled.

Finally, Rodgers had enough and collaborated with Oscar Hammerstein II, already a well known lyricist and librettist, who had written the book and lyrics for Show Boat with Jerome Kern. Their first production was Oklahoma!, which won universal praise, won a Pulitzer Prize, and ran for more than 2200 performances on Broadway. Lorenz Hart, who had nothing to do with Oklahoma!, attended the opening night performance, and the party given in the show’s honor that night. The film Blue Moon takes place the night Oklahoma! opened, at a party given at Sardi’s Restaurant in New York.

Whether there was a party that night at Sardi’s is not known, apparently, but that doesn’t matter. What does matter is that the Sardi’s in the film is a mythical place, where (until the Rodgers crowd arrived, for some reason hours after the performance ended) the only human beings were Hart, the bartender, a cigarette girl, a pianist named Rifkin who went by the name of Rafferty, and journalist/writer E.B. White, sitting at a table all by himself. Hart, drinking “just one drink” several times, goes into a monologue that lasts almost an hour, talking about himself, his career, Rodgers, Hammerstein, a girl who is a student in a Yale arts program in New Haven with whom he is madly in love (she is 20, he is 47), beauty in all genders and more. The others in the room are “extras” in his life, there to listen to and to respond to Hart’s far ranging speech.

Eventually, Rodgers and Hammerstein arrive, as does his 20 year old “protege” from New Haven, and the monologue becomes often a dialogue, sometimes with Rodgers, sometimes with Elizabeth, his young friend. Rodgers is very patient, promising to continue their 20 year partnership, but saying (basically) that he wants to date others, like Hammerstein. He tells Hart that he wants to collaborate with him on a redo of an earlier show, A Yankee in King Arthur’s Court, and Hart talks about wanting to do a serious musical (not a frivolous one like Oklahoma!) about Marco Polo, with samples of music from everywhere Polo visited on his journey to the Far East.

The party ends, the film ends.

In real life, though, things did not end. The year all this happened was 1943. Later that year, Hart’s mother died. Still later that year, the revised Rodgers and Hart Yankee in King Arthur’s Court did open on Broadway. The night of the opening, there was of course another party. Hart got drunk, his sister took him to her home, he wandered away, drank some more, and was found collapsed in an alley. He was taken to a hospital, he developed pneumonia, and four days later, he was dead. He was 48. What could be sadder?

Rodgers and Hammerstein developed hit show after hit show. Hammerstein was easier to work with, probably even more talented (he was the librettist as well as a lyricist, which Hart was not), and much taller than Hart. Yes, as I said, Hart was maybe an even 5′. Hammerstein was 6’3″. This led to one of the better lines of the film. At the Oklahoma! party, Hart goes up to Hammerstein to congratulate him, saying as his opening greeting, “Oscar! You get taller every time I see you.”

(The other memorable line was when Hart was going on about choreographer Jerome Robbins, who started life as Jerome Rabinowitz. Hart said that Robbins had “circumcised his name”.)

I enjoyed and admired the film. I thought that Ethan Hawke, who lost about a foot in height through various director’s tricks, did a masterful job, as did pretty much everyone else, although Hawke was really the only one who mattered. But the film, as a basic monologue, does drag a bit. I think they could have done with a little less of the interplay between Hart and Elizabeth (but every film needs a pretty girl, I guess, and their relationship does bring more ambiguity into Hart’s sexual preferences).

Should you see it? Yes. And I think you should see it on the big screen. It is not a “big” film, and seeing it on your home screen may make it seem a bit too small.

(As to this post’s title……when you remember Blue Moon, you remember Rodgers’ music, not Hart’s words, am I right? I think that’s so.)