Andrew Scott Triumphs as RICHARD RODGERS in BLUE MOON

BLUE MOON isn’t your typical biopic. Rather than trotting through Rodgers and Hart’s entire back catalogue, the film zeroes in on the heartbreaking juncture of 1943. The premise unfolds against the opening night of OKLAHOMA!, that seminal Rodgers and Hammerstein musical that forever changed Broadway’s trajectory. Yet, in the background lurks a different drama: Hart is on the verge of self-destruction, his battle with alcoholism pushing him away from Rodgers. The film captures those final sparks of their collaboration, illuminating the poignant truth that as OKLAHOMA! soared, Hart’s own fate spiralled. It’s a dual narrative—triumph meets tragedy.

Within that swirling emotional tempest, Ethan Hawke takes on Lorenz Hart. Early previews from the Berlin festival rave about Hawke’s ability to convey both the brilliance of a lyricist and the anguish of a troubled man. Then there’s Andrew Scott, stepping in as Richard Rodgers, the composer left to seek new partnerships when Hart’s demons proved insurmountable. Watching Scott receive the Silver Bear for Best Supporting Performance cements what many theatre aficionados have whispered for years: he is one of our era’s most chameleonic performers, effortlessly blending comedic nuance with heartbreak. And in the context of Rodgers—arguably overshadowed by the mythical Rodgers and Hammerstein brand—Scott’s role emphasises the composer’s complexities: the man who created BLUE MOON, THE LADY IS A TRAMP, and MY FUNNY VALENTINE was, after all, half of an earlier duo that once reigned supreme on Broadway.

Hart’s real-life story is every bit as gripping as any Hollywood script. Born with a poetic flair, he penned lyrics that fans still quote decades later. But by 1943, his personal struggles had grown too large to ignore. BLUE MOON reimagines those months leading up to Hart’s death, delivering a fresh spin on a narrative that’s often overshadowed by Rodgers’ subsequent success with Oscar Hammerstein II. Director Richard Linklater, known for BOYHOOD and an upcoming adaptation of MERRILY WE ROLL ALONG, applies his signature style—gentle pacing punctuated by striking emotional beats—to the film, ensuring it resonates beyond mere historical curiosity.

A Closer Look At The Cast

Beyond Hawke and Scott, BLUE MOON boasts a stellar line-up: Margaret Qualley takes on Elizabeth Weiland, a figure whose significance in Hart’s final chapter has long been shrouded in hearsay. Bobby Cannavale appears as Eddie, presumably capturing the brash confidence of someone woven into Broadway’s backstage politics. Meanwhile, Jonah Lees stars as Knuckles, Simon Delaney steps in as Hammerstein, and Cillian Sullivan portrays Stevie. Given that each of these roles touches on the swirling conflicts of ego, artistry, and heartbreak, expect ensemble chemistry to drive much of the film’s emotional weight.

And let’s not overlook the script. Robert Kaplow—the mind behind ME AND ORSON WELLES—is the screenwriter. Paired with Linklater’s direction, you can safely expect witty repartee interspersed with heartfelt confessions, an apt homage to Hart’s signature brand of sophisticated lyricism. Early reviews from Berlin confirm that the film successfully conveys the tension of a last-chance creative meeting: Rodgers is forging ahead with Hammerstein, but a frail Hart, wrestling with his own self-worth, can’t quite say farewell to the partnership that made him a legend.

A Composer Often Outshone

We’ve all heard of Rodgers and Hammerstein. Their musicals—SOUTH PACIFIC, THE SOUND OF MUSIC, CAROUSEL, THE KING AND I—form the bedrock of the Golden Age of Broadway. Yet in BLUE MOON, we peer into the lesser-discussed phase of Rodgers’ career. Rodgers and Hart wrote ON YOUR TOES, PAL JOEY, and the aforementioned standards that soared on the radio waves, influencing countless singers. The album track Blue Moon, for instance, was recorded by everyone from Mel Tormé to Elvis Presley, making it a ubiquitous standard by the 1950s. You might argue that Rodgers’ melodic sense was at its sharpest when it complemented Hart’s biting, witty lyrics. This film illuminates Rodgers’ bridging of two legacies—the comedic, often jazzy style of Rodgers and Hart, and the grand, integrated musicals that defined Rodgers and Hammerstein.

One surprising detail gleaned from early festival Q&As is how Andrew Scott approached Rodgers with a certain vulnerability, playing him not merely as an ambitious composer but as a friend torn between loyalty and self-preservation. It’s easy to forget that behind Rodgers’ professional persona lay a man grappling with heartbreak—Hart was more than a collaborator; he was a friend, albeit a troubled one. In capturing that nuance, Scott apparently devoted weeks to studying Rodgers’ personal letters, aiming to reflect the emotional cost of pivoting from a decades-long partnership to forging a new path with Hammerstein. The result, so we’re told, is a heartbreak-laced performance that might well redefine how we see Rodgers in the public imagination.

A Tantalising Glimpse Of Broadway’s Shifting Tides

Set in 1943, the film situates us at a crossroads: Rodgers standing on the threshold of a major reinvention, Hart teetering on the edge of oblivion. Oklahoma! is about to redefine what musicals can achieve—seamless integration of song and story, a sense of narrative continuity we now take for granted. Meanwhile, Hart’s style is very much an earlier form, wry and sophisticated but rarely integrated in quite the same narrative manner. In focusing on that pivot, BLUE MOON underscores a tectonic shift in American theatre: the move from glitzy song-and-dance revues to musicals that told cohesive stories, front to back.

This is no minor moment in theatre history. If Oklahoma! soared, so did Rodgers. Soon, Hammerstein and he would earn a fortune, shape cultural mores, and generate household favourites like Some Enchanted Evening, Getting to Know You, and Edelweiss. Hart, in turn, receded into an almost tragic footnote, his brilliant mind snuffed out all too soon. The film’s release this May promises a rare glimpse of that transitional tension: a raw, human story about ambition, addiction, friendship, and the unstoppable march of theatrical progress.

If you’re a devotee of classic musicals, a lover of theatre history, or simply someone who can’t resist a stirring narrative of collaboration and heartbreak, BLUE MOON is shaping up to be a must-see. With Ethan Hawke and Andrew Scott at the helm—both giving what critics are touting as career-defining performances—this film transcends standard biopic territory. It breathes fresh life into a pivotal moment when Broadway’s future hinged on one revolutionary show, while an entire era was quietly fading with a single man’s final descent.

For Andrew Scott, the Silver Bear is the latest in a string of accolades that reinforce his reputation as an actor unafraid of emotional complexity. His Richard Rodgers is neither hero nor villain, but a conflicted artist forging ahead even as he mourns the dissolution of a once-inseparable creative team. Meanwhile, Lorenz Hart emerges from the shadows of Broadway lore, portrayed by Hawke in what some are calling a heartbreakingly human turn. The supporting cast, from Margaret Qualley to Bobby Cannavale, inject the story with warmth, humour, and heartbreak.

Slated for wide release in May, BLUE MOON beckons us to dive into a singular moment in musical theatre’s evolution—when Rodgers stepped onto the stage with Hammerstein’s new masterpiece, leaving Hart’s brilliance forever in the wings. Much like the show-stopping number that tugs at your heartstrings when you least expect it, this film aims to reveal the intricate harmony and painful dissonance behind Rodgers and Hart’s final coda. If the early reviews are any indication, we’re in for a deeply affecting cinematic experience—one that will remind us that the best art so often springs from the most complicated friendships, uncertain times, and hard-won second acts. Sometimes, indeed, life’s funniest valentine is also its saddest farewell.

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