Richard Linklater’s Blue Moon feels like a filmmaker returning home. It’s his most focused and emotionally charged work in years, unfolding over a single chaotic night behind the curtain of Oklahoma!’s Broadway debut. What begins as backstage frenzy turns into a sharp, funny, and deeply human character study of lyricist Lorenz Hart’s unraveling as fame, insecurity, and heartbreak collide.

Ethan Hawke gives one of his most commanding performances yet that is both volatile and magnetic. He disappears into Hart, his voice drenched in liquor and regret, firing off monologues that swing from spite to self-pity to desperate longing for Margaret Qualley’s character, who embodies both muse and emotional escape. It’s the kind of performance that feels both lived-in and theatrical, balancing exhaustion with electricity.

Andrew Scott, as composer Richard Rodgers, matches him beat for beat. His crisp composure and effortless charm provide a perfect counterpoint to Hawke’s chaos. Scott’s 1940s American accent is so natural you almost forget he’s not from that world, and together the two create a rhythm that feels like a stage duet slowly falling apart.

The film itself plays like a chamber piece: talky, intimate, and steeped in melancholy. Linklater shoots it with the warmth and rhythm of live theater, yet every scene hums with cinematic energy. The camera lingers, the dialogue dances, and the tension between creative genius and self-destruction gives it weight.

Blue Moon might be small in scale, but it’s bursting with life. It’s entertaining, old-school in the best ways, and proof that Linklater can still pull magic out of time, conversation, and chaos. This is exactly the kind of film that deserves to find its audience and the kind of discovery that makes film festivals matter. [A-]