John Powers

While Larry can be a buoyant delight, you can sense he'd be a nightmare to work with.

This becomes even clearer when he finally talks with his longtime partner, played with effortless mastery by Andrew Scott.

Dapper in his tux and high on success, Rogers treats the somewhat rumpled heart with a shifting blend of generosity, respect, sadness, and the desire just to get on with things.

But Larry can't stop himself from going too far.

Here, he says they should do a new show together, but one that's not too easy.

Rogers responds with smiling umbrage.

In his real life, of course, Larry is actually a cauldron of feelings.

But in his art, he likes to disguise them.

The Kenny Rogers appreciates that Hart's sophisticated lyrics modernized American songwriting.

But he realizes that such cleverness is no longer in fashion.

Now, with its confined setting and garrulous characters, Blue Moon often feels like an adapted play.

Yet this isn't a problem.

Linklater understands how to use his camera in confined spaces to keep a talkie movie visually arresting.

And he's helped by the snap of Robert Kaplow's screenplay and by an immaculate cast that nails every line.

Hawke transforms himself in body and voice, turning his familiar cocky self into a physically shrinking figure, forever tiptoeing on the rim of despair.

His neediness is naked when Elizabeth arrives, and they share a warm, funny tête-à-tête in which she tells him about her sexual encounter with the big man on campus she's always adored.

Qualia, it's worth saying, is just terrific here, bursting with charm and vitality.

Kidding himself into thinking this lanky young beauty might be romantically interested in him, Larry listens to her with the rapt attention of one who hopes to wish love into existence.

Just as earlier, he'd hoped to wish back into existence his old easy rapport with Rogers.

Although Blue Moon works on a small canvas, Linklater uses it to explore big things, shifting cultural tastes, professional jealousy, the vagaries of artistic collaboration, the weight of passing time.