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BLUE MOON · written by Robert Kaplow · 2025
Scene 24 of 26 · ≈ 11 min on screen · Act three
On the opening night of Oklahoma!, lyricist Lorenz Hart drinks through Sardi's while chasing one last renewal with Richard Rodgers and the young woman he adores, but both are already moving beyond him.
Hart leaves the show that displaced him for his Sardi's habitat, where wit and remembered greatness keep fear at bay.
Hart needs Elizabeth to choose him and Rodgers to need him, while drink offers the quicker form of consolation.
He admits White into his private mythology and steps into the Oklahoma! celebration to confront the people he cannot keep.
Hart pitches a grand future, hunts for artistic validation, and retreats through drink and old stories when Rodgers resists.
Hart gets Rodgers' love and the offer of a small reunion, along with the unsparing terms that make it impossible for him.
Finding White gone, Hart drinks and jokes about failing memory until Elizabeth descends with the young George Roy Hill.
Hart meets George, advises the future director to favor friendship stories, and draws Elizabeth aside to hear about Cooper.
Hammerstein honors Hart as the lyricist who liberated American song, but his precocious young protégé punctures the eulogy by calling Hart's work sloppy.
This scene
HART
(to Elizabeth)
I so regret not having children. Cooper.
ELIZABETH
I can't believe I'm telling you this.
HART
Tell me.
ELIZABETH
You have to remember I've had a hopeless crush on this guy for over a year.
HART
Hold this. Come here.
They scurry over to coat check.
HART (CONT'D)
Renee, may I buy five minutes of privacy, please?
He slips her a big tip.
RENEE
Anything for you, Larry.
HART
Thank you.
Renee closes up and leaves.
Hart and Elizabeth move deeper into the coat-room area.
COAT ROOM AREA (position #1 - they're standing near the entrance.
HART (CONT'D)
Tell me what he looks like; I'm trying to visualize him.
ELIZABETH
Apollo? Blue eyes. Tall.
HART
So, basically, the skin on his back was flawless--
ELIZABETH
Stop!
HART
It's the night of your birthday. Tell me everything.
ELIZABETH
A group of my friends are taking--
HART
Boyfriends, girlfriends?
ELIZABETH
Mixed. C'mon, Larry, I'm a college lady.
ELIZABETH (CONT'D)
So they're taking me to Mory's, which is technically no women allowed, but they smuggle us up the backstairs like so much heavily-scented contraband, and, of course, one of the girls has brought along her date.
HART
Cooper.
ELIZABETH
Which is both destroying me and exhilarating me. I mean, he's there. Near me. The evening is getting late; empty wine bottles are filling up the table. Half of us are underage, but we're flirting so shamelessly with the waiter that nobody seems to care.
HART
Drinking your French malbec.
ELIZABETH
Exactly.
HART
I'm nothing if not a good student.
ELIZABETH
That's why everybody loves you, Larry. You're the best listener I ever met.
HART
That's because I have absolutely no interest in myself whatsoever. Back to your tale of natal debauchery! Empty wine bottles filling the table.
ELIZABETH
So it's late. And Marjorie--
HART
The girl who came with Cooper?
Elizabeth goes into the room a little bit and sits (position #2)
ELIZABETH
She's left to go home and study; people are staggering out one by one; it's midnight, and I find myself sitting right next to him.
Hart moves closer by sitting on Renee's chair (joining position #2)
HART
Take your time. You know, there's no place else on earth I'd rather be than sitting right here with you. Oh, did you get my letter: there's a party at my place tonight.
ELIZABETH
I think I've got to stay here and help my mother...
HART
It's not getting started till late. You'll have plenty of time to work the room here. I've got the Golden Gate Quartet showing up! Promise me you'll come. 320 Central Park West. You said you wanted to design sets and costumes, everybody in New York theater is gonna be there. OK, back to Cooper.
ELIZABETH
OK. We leave Mory's together. It's a perfect November night.
(closes her eyes to remember)
A fingernail clipping of a moon. He's got his arm around me. We're both a little drunk; stumbling in and out of each other's arms. He's wearing this red and green flannel shirt with the sleeves rolled up.
HART
Not that you noticed.
ELIZABETH
He's looking good!
HART
And you?
ELIZABETH
It's my birthday, right? I'm supposed to be looking good.
HART
Tasty.
ELIZABETH
So I'm leaning against that flannel workshirt, and, I'm telling you, I can smell the maleness coming off of him. I remember thinking that huge purple letters should have lit up the sky: Desire.
HART
OK. Hold on one second, I have to go find some ice-water and pour it down my trousers.
ELIZABETH
You may need some extra ice. We end up in the basement of his fraternity: in this tawdry sort of derelict bar. God only knows how many acts of depravity have taken place down there.
HART
And here comes one more.
ELIZABETH
Oh, yeah. So I've been watching this guy for a year, dreaming about him, and now, here it is: the night of my birthday; the only light is coming from this dim little lamp with horses and jockeys printed on the shade; I mean, really, Larry, what's a girl to do?
HART
Happy birthday!
ELIZABETH
He begins to take off his clothes. You really want to hear this?
HART
...I'm mildly interested.
ELIZABETH
It's humiliating. 'Cause...basically... Nothing happened.
Pause.
HART
Nothing? Like you and me at the lake house...
ELIZABETH
No. That was a deliberate decision we made. Right? Based on--what?--rationality? I mean, as rational as you and I ever get. But this--this was based on the fact that he couldn't get the rubber on.
HART
No.
ELIZABETH
He tried. He tried again. I tried.
HART
Stop.
ELIZABETH
It was the worst 10 minutes of my life. It felt like 10 hours.
HART
I'm sorry.
ELIZABETH
And you know what the worst part was? He just wasn't there, you know? He kept mumbling that it was the wine. That the rubber was too small, if you can believe that. And this whole time what's clear to me is that he just hasn't sufficiently, I don't know what the right word is. Maybe "he-just-doesn't-love-you-enough" is the right word. I mean, there's no way around that one, is there? When the girl loves the guy with all of her heart, and he just doesn't return her feeling? Do you have any idea what that feels like?
HART
"Nobody ever loved me that much."
ELIZABETH
I brought into that basement a year's worth of adoration; studying his photograph; memorizing his phone number; and there he was: this half-drunk junior who couldn't even pretend to love me.... And, I wouldn't have minded if there'd been some passion underneath. Or even empathy. There was nothing. Just that lamp with the horses on it.
Hart moves to the floor beneath her (position #3).
HART
You deserve so much better.
ELIZABETH
I asked my roommate about it the next morning; you know, girl to girl. She said that men, sometimes can't perform because they're too nervous. I wish I could believe that, to feel a little bit better about myself. But he was not nervous. Not in the least. He had his eyes shut. As if he were trying to dream me into somebody he really wanted.
The line appears to resonate with Hart's own romantic confusion.
ELIZABETH (CONT'D)
I felt stupid. I felt debased. I felt furious at myself that I could allow him to make me feel so worthless. We tried a few creative alternatives.
HART
Oh, no.
ELIZABETH
It got uglier and uglier. Finally, he said, "Elizabeth, I owe you a rain-check." ...And that--that was my 20th birthday. Ta-da.
HART
Jesus wept.
ELIZABETH
But it gets worse.
HART
I don't think I can take it.
She gives him a look.
HART (CONT'D)
OK, I can take it. But just tell me in a way that doesn't make me ashamed to be a human being.
Elizabeth joins him on the floor (position #3)
ELIZABETH
That's going to be difficult. About a week later. Everybody's leaving for Thanksgiving. He gives me a call. Would I like to have dinner with him? You know me: no pride. I say sure and make my way over to his fraternity again, which sits under this huge gingko tree; the leaves have turned yellow; the trunk of the tree is black from the rain--I'm thinking: This is the most beautiful thing I've ever seen. I remember saying to myself, "God is giving you a second chance." We go up to his room; his roommate has already left for the holiday. The door clicks shut, and suddenly there's no more discussion about dinner.
HART
Rain-check cashed!
ELIZABETH
In spades. I mean, it's suddenly pouring. We're practically tearing each other's clothes off. There is no conversation. And this time there is no difficulty. Not the first time. Not the second time.
HART
Stop.
ELIZABETH
He says to me, "Happy belated birthday, Elizabeth," and, you want to hear the unbelievable ending to this sordid little story? That was the last time I saw him. That was November - over four months ago. I was absolutely sure he'd call. If only to have sex again, right? No. Never. I thought he'd write. No. So I call him, of course. He couldn't get off the phone fast enough. So I wrote to him a four-page typed letter. Single-spaced. No response....
I tell myself it was like a fever dream, you know? And, maybe, the fever finally broke. And it all sounds sane and sensible, but, you know something, if he called me right now, right this very second, I'd drop everything in my life and drive three hours, drive thirty hours just to spend one more night with him. What is the matter with me, Larry?
HART
Why would you drive thirty hours to see someone who treated you like that?
ELIZABETH
Because I'm in love with him?
HART
...You are?
ELIZABETH
It's illogical. Obsessional. Pathetic. And this is not the first time this has happened to me. It keeps happening to me. I feel like I can't see people clearly.
She struggles to take a deep breath. He takes out his pocket handkerchief and hands it to her.
HART
I wrote a song once, years ago, called "The Heart is Quicker Than the Eye." It's not a great song, but it's a good title. And it's true, I think? The head has nothing to do with the madness of love. It doesn't matter at all about worthiness, does it?. We invest our hearts in worthless stocks. And we know they're worthless. But we cling to them like little children clutching their little stuffed bears.
(trying to keep himself together)
Oh, Elizabeth. Tell me truthfully. How do you feel about me?
ELIZABETH
...How do you mean?
HART
I mean, at the lake house, with the light burning off; we talked half the night, and I touched your shoulder.... Did you actually love me a little bit that night?
ELIZABETH
You know I love you, Larry.
HART
You do?
ELIZABETH
Just not that way.
HART
You said you'd drive thirty hours to see Cooper. How many hours would you drive to see me? Look. My hands are shaking.
ELIZABETH
...I feel something wiser and deeper for you. Respect.
HART
Thank you.
ELIZABETH
Gratitude for the generosity and the selflessness you've shown me. No one has ever been more interested in my life than you have. I don't deserve a friendship like yours. I am so grateful for you. I will be grateful forever.
Pause.
HART
I'm grateful to you, too, for resurrecting me--
ELIZABETH
Stop.
We hear a knock on the door.
RENEE
Larry! There's people out here.
HART
One second!
She stares at him a moment.
ELIZABETH
Can I ask you something? Something that's probably too personal for me to ask?
HART
Too personal is the only thing that I'm interested in.
ELIZABETH
My mother.... You know, she works for the Guild.... She knows everybody.... So she saw us spending time together last summer....
HART
I see where this is headed.
ELIZABETH
She said to me...
(playing with her necklace)
I don't--I don't know how to say this...
HART
Just say it.
ELIZABETH
OK. She said to me, more than once: "Elizabeth, not only is he twice your age, but...I don't think his...primary interest...is women."
HART
What did you say?
ELIZABETH
I said, "Look, mother, I know what I know. And I know what we're both feeling."
HART
What are we both feeling?
She stares at her ring.
ELIZABETH
"Irrational adoration?"
HART
And what may I ask does your mother think she knows of my primary interest?
ELIZABETH
I'm sorry. I shouldn't have said anything. Please forgive me.
HART
(raises an imaginary toast)
To all our mothers! May they remain mercifully silent.
ELIZABETH
I apologize. That was stupid of me to have asked. And I do know what I know. And what I feel.
HART
Here's what you tell that mother of yours, as she sits by the fire, wistfully counting up her royalties from Oklahoma! You tell her that: Larry Hart is drunk with beauty. And italicize the word drunk. Drunk with beauty--wherever he finds it. In men; in women. In the smell of cigar stores. In the impossible beauty of a twenty-year-old poet with pale green eyes and two tiny freckles on her left cheek.
His hand has moved to his chest.
ELIZABETH
Are you all right?
HART
...my cigarette heart.
Renee comes busting in the coat room.
RENEE
Larry, Dick Rodgers is looking for his coat.
HART
Coming.
Elizabeth looks at Larry and smiles as they get up to go. After Renee leaves with the coat, Elizabeth looks to Hart on their way out the door.
ELIZABETH
Introduce me?