I telegraphed and phoned
I sent air mail
special, too
Yeah, I know.
Answer was goodbye
There was even postage due
I fell in love just once
And then it had
to be with you
Triple rhyme.
Everything happens to me
Oh, f*ck.
Yeah.
WQXR notes the passing
of one of America's
foremost songwriters,
Lorenz Hart,
who died last night
at Doctors Hospital
in Manhattan
from complications
of pneumonia.
Mr. Hart was 48 years old.
For over 20 years, Hart and
his partner, Richard Rodgers,
Rodgers wrote the music,
Hart the words,
combined their
respective geniuses
to create a string
of musical-comedy hits.
Often referred to as America's
Gilbert and Sullivan,
Rodgers and Hart will be
remembered for such songs as,
My Funny Valentine,
The Lady Is A tr*mp,
Where or When,
With A Song In My Heart,
Isn't It Romantic?,
My Heart Stood Still, Bewitched,
I Didn't Know What Time It Was,
Manhattan,
and Blue Moon.
Okla-Okla-Okla-Okla-Okla
Okla-Okla-Okla-Okla-Okla
We know we belong
to the land
Here comes "grand."
And the land we belong to
is grand
And when we say
Yow! Ayipioeeay!
We're only sayin'
"You're doin' fine,
Oklahoma!"
I need a drink.
-Lorry.
-I'll see you later, Mom.
L-A-H-O-M-A
Oklahoma!
Yow!
All right. For the last time,
put the letters on the table.
"If Laszlo and the cause
mean that much to you,
"you won't stop at anything."
All right,
I'll make it easy on you.
"Go ahead, sh**t.
You'd be doing me a favor."
Just remember, I got this g*n
pointed at your d*ck.
Oh. That's my least
vulnerable spot.
Jesus Christ!
How many times
have we seen that picture?
Worst line in Casablanca?
"Well, a precedent
is being broken."
"A precedent is being broken"?
How can you break
a g*dd*mn precedent?
Do they even speak English
over there in Hollywood?
Still, you have
to love Claude Rains.
-He makes that picture.
-Sure.
You know
why he's so great?
He's a leading man,
and he's short,
which proves you can be both.
And I love this.
He says to Ilsa,
"Mademoiselle, he's the kind
of man that, if I were a woman
"and I were not around,
I should be in love with Rick."
Think about it.
Whom does he end up with
at the end of the picture?
Who's strolling away together
arm in arm into the fog?
You're saying Rick
and Captain Renault...
What do you think goes on
over there
at the Free French garrison
in Brazzaville?
That is a scene
they can't show you.
Okay. Best line in Casablanca?
"Nobody ever
loved me that much."
Isn't that magnificent?
Six words. "Nobody ever loved me
that much."
And, really,
who's ever been loved enough?
Who's ever been loved
half enough?
Would you get me a shot?
Larry, you told me
under no circumstances...
I'm just going to look at it.
Take the measure
of its amber heft in my hand.
-You told me not...
-Just give me the drink.
Did I tell you
what Elizabeth told me?
That's the girl
I'm meeting here tonight.
-You mean the one you...
-Eddie, Eddie, Eddie.
-What?
-Show some class, all right?
Her mother is going to come
walking in here any second.
-Sorry.
-Seriously.
I... I adore this girl.
And, I'm telling you,
this is beyond sex.
-What's beyond sex?
-I don't understand it.
She's completely undeserving,
but isn't that the way
it always is?
"Irrational adoration."
That's the phrase
she came up with.
She's a poet, too.
Did I tell you that?
Oh, and would you give me
a shot of club soda?
I'll drink one
and admire the other.
So, this girl...
You really, you know,
with a 20-year-old
college girl, huh?
It is more complicated
than you could possibly imagine.
Uh, leave the bottle.
It's a visual poem.
You're not giving me
any details here.
You know what my secret goal is
for the rest of this year?
-What?
-I'm serious. Really.
My secret goal
is to stop being so scared.
-Elizabeth Weiland. For...
-Those are mine!
Jesus! That is all you get
for five dollars?
Plus delivery, yes.
Lorenz Hart?
You know, I kind of think
I've heard that name before.
You just earned yourself
a dollar tip, kid.
A precedent is being broken.
Hey, she gave this to me.
Mailed it all the way
from New Haven
because I said
I wanted something
she'd actually touched.
Christ! It's like
I'm 17 again,
except I never was 17.
I went directly from childhood
to washed-up.
Eddie, get the kid a drink,
would you?
No thanks. I'm... I'm working.
Oh, Christ, that's when
you should be drinking.
What's your name?
Sven, am I right?
-Troy.
-Ooh, even better.
Listen, Sven,
are you free tonight?
Eddie, would you get the kid
a g*dd*mn shot?
-Yeah.
-'Cause I am throwing
an enormous party at my place.
All of show business
is going to be there.
I've booked
the Golden Gate Quartet.
I'm serious.
I want you to show up,
bring a friend,
bring a dozen friends.
It's going to be like
nothing you've ever seen before.
I'm up at the Ardsley, you know?
91st, on the Park.
Just tell the desk clerk
that you're
with Lorenz Hart's party.
You're going to need
to know the password.
-Are you ready for the password?
-Mmm-hmm.
"Nobody ever loved me
that much."
Slow! Oh.
Now that is a beautiful sight.
What, you don't drink?
After one whole
quart of brandy
Like a daisy I awake
You know that song?
Uh, no, no.
My funny Valentine
Sweet comic Valentine...
I really don't listen
to the radio that much.
You said you know my name!
You don't know one
-Rodgers and Hart song?
-I know...
I just can't really remember...
I'll take Manhattan
The Bronx and Staten...
We were on the cover
of Time Magazine!
My picture is on the wall
right...
Eddie, where's my picture?
They move 'em around.
-What do you...
-Well, how about
this one?
Blue moon
I know that one!
You saw me standing alone
Without a dream in my heart
Without a love of my own
Worst g*dd*mn lyric
I ever wrote!
-You wrote that?
-Wasn't even supposed
to be the title.
I like that song.
Hmm.
I'll take my tip back.
I want you at my party, Sven!
Doc Bender said to me
the other night,
after I told him I'd proposed
to Vivienne again,
"She turned me down, again,"
he said...
"Larry, make up your mind.
"Are you h*m*
or heterosexual?"
I said, "Doc, I'm ambisexual."
He said... "What
the hell does that even mean?"
I said,
"It means I can jerk off
"equally well with either hand."
Oh, Larry!
There's a lady present.
Well, women
can use either hand, too.
But to be a writer,
you have to be
kind of omni-sexual, don't you?
You have to have,
inside yourself,
you know, everyone on earth.
Men, women, horses.
How can you give voice
to the whole chorus of the world
if the whole chorus of the world
isn't already inside you?
Eddie, what do you call
a tireless,
relentless h*m*?
"Indefagitable."
To the great and glorious past,
when it all mattered so much.
Mmm.
Keep playing. You're good.
Oh, thank you.
I'm an aspiring composer.
"Aspiring"?
That means you're breathing,
right?
Mmm.
I better take your name down
in case I need a new partner.
Hey, did you go
to the opening tonight?
Oklahoma! With an exclamation
point, no less.
Fact. Any title
that feels the need
for an exclamation point,
you want to steer clear of.
What did you say
your name was again?
Uh, Morty Rifkin. But I go
by the name of Morty Rafferty.
No one could possibly
guess you're Jewish.
Wha'dja think
of Oklahoma?
What did I think of Oklahoma?
Well, Knuckles,
Knuckles O'Rifkin,
that's what I'm going
to call you,
I saw the show a couple of times
in previews in New Haven,
back when
they were still calling it
Away We Go! Exclamation point.
And I felt sure d*ck
was gonna call me,
"Larry, we're in big trouble.
"I need you
to funny up the show.
"We need some
big comedy numbers."
And I was all ready to say,
"d*ck, instead of all this
corn-pone Americana,
"let's do a send-up
of corn-pone Americana!"
I was already writing lyrics
in my head. I couldn't stop.
And did he call you?
Are you kidding?
He was too busy
writing more hits. Huh.
I sat in my box seat tonight
and watched
"Oklahomo,
"exclamation point"...
...down there, glittering
in all its pink lights
and all those cowboy hats
and twirling lassos,
and I knew two things
with absolute certainty.
It was a 14-karat hit
and it was a 14-karat
piece of sh*t.
Oh. Friend of mine
saw it in previews,
said it was one of
the best shows he's ever seen.
The show is fraudulent
on every possible level.
And this is not
jealousy speaking, okay?
I watched that show tonight
and I felt this great sinking
in my heart.
And all around me people
are roaring.
They are roaring
at third-rate jokes.
I wanted to grab the audience
by the shoulders and say,
"What are you laughing at?
Come on! Demand more!" And...
Rodgers is a genius.
I say that without
one second's hesitation.
You're a piano player.
You know that I'm right.
Yeah, he's pretty good.
Pretty good?
There is no one with his range,
his inventiveness,
great soaring masculine melodies
building like pile drivers.
I mean, Rodgers is
a cold-hearted son of a b*tch,
but he can get a melody
to levitate,
and that is the hallmark
of great art, levitation.
I've got
a beautiful feeling
That's the moment.
You hear that?
When your spine glows
and the whole apparatus
of songwriting
suddenly breaks free
from gravity.
There's maybe five people
on the planet
that can pull that off,
and that son of a b*tch
is one of 'em.
And then, oy...
Words by Oscar Hammerstein II.
What can I say about Oscar?
He's going to come striding
in here any second,
all seven
and a half feet of him,
and, you know, d*ck deliberately
went with somebody tall
this time,
you know that.
But what can I say about Oscar?
He's so earthbound,
and let's face it,
most of us are earthbound.
But there are moments,
I swear to God,
there are moments in my work
when I have made something
bigger than myself.
I agree, definitely.
Thank you. The words were bigger
than the music,
bigger than the characters
who sang them,
and they approached, for maybe
one-half second,
something immortal.
Excuse my limitless self-regard,
but they did,
and if nobody else is going
to say it, then I'm going to.
I have written
a handful of words
that are going to cheat death.
Spoken with the modesty
of a true lunatic.
Hey! When Shakespeare wrote,
"Not marble nor gilded monuments
"Of princes shall outlive
this powerful rhyme,"
did people say,
"My God, what an ego"?
No, they said he is a genius,
and he knows his work
is going to last.
So now you're Shakespeare?
Look, Oklahoma! is going to win
the g*dd*mn Pulitzer.
I know that.
High schools
are going to put it on
from now till doomsday,
because it is so inoffensive.
But really,
who wants inoffensive art?
Knuckles...
...are you listening to me?
I'm trying to answer
your question.
Is that why God put us
on the planet,
to not offend people?
The problem
with Oklahoma! is this,
and the problem was right there
in the original play,
Green Grow the f*cking Lilacs.
And d*ck first showed that play
to me, all right?
He asked me to adapt it first,
and I said no,
and I don't mind
that it's nostalgic,
but Oklahoma!,
exclamation point,
is nostalgic for a world
that never existed,
and do you really
want to write a show
where the main character's name
is Curly?
Oh, here's an idea for a song.
"Hey, Moe! Hey, Larry!
I Just Stepped in Cow sh*t!"
I mean, am I bitter?
We write together
for a quarter a century,
and the first show
he writes with someone else
is gonna be the biggest hit
he ever had. Am I bitter?
-Larry...
-f*ck yes.
But I need
to tell you about Elizabeth.
I need to cleanse my heart.
Here we go. The 20-year-old...
She's going to come
in here any second.
Uh, Rodgers is gonna
be here tonight, right?
Don't worry,
-I'll introduce you.
-Oh, that'd be great.
I'm trying to get somebody
to listen to my songs.
Well, listen and learn.
I'm telling you about Elizabeth.
There's something appealingly...
ethereal about her face.
What the f*ck does that mean?
Look, I got her
all these presents.
You bought her
something from Klein's?
She's gonna love this.
Yeah, but that's used sh*t.
What are you doing?
This is an authentic
first-edition.
You don't understand the magic
and the mystery of this girl.
"I have been waiting for this
my whole life."
It's what Somerset Maugham
says in that thing,
you remember?
-Me?
-Yeah.
"There's always one who loves
"and one who lets himself
be loved."
That's the truth, isn't it?
Of course,
you know you're in trouble
when you're looking
for the meaning of life
in a book with the word
"bondage" in the title.
Larry...
She's a girl. Right?
Okay. See, I always thought
that your interests
went more towards...
My interests?
So now you're going
to analyze me?
Thank you, Doctor Bacardi.
Look, I met her at rehearsals
for By Jupiter.
And she's not an actress.
She's a college student.
Sophomore.
Yale. Not the general school,
that's for the guys.
This is the School of Fine Arts!
Bohemian goddessesy
in gray smocks
mixing paint in morning light.
She's all of 20 years old.
And you're what?
A youthful 47!
You know what I call her
in my letters?
"My irreplaceable Elizabeth!"
Can you believe it?
If I could write what's
in my heart this second,
I would have the entire audience
levitating.
Oklahoma! would close in shame
if it could hear eight bars
of what's in my heart.
And I've been
in eight bars tonight,
so I know
what I'm talking about.
Go!
Last summer,
I found myself awake
at 4:30 in the morning.
And all I had done
the previous five hours...
What the hell are you lookin'
at your watch for?
Larry, I'm working here.
What the hell
do you think I'm doing?
And I'm not even getting paid.
All right.
More flowers...
Oh. Eddie,
get Sven another drink!
...for Richard Rodgers.
Jesus, how much did those cost?
Sixteen dollars. Plus delivery.
"d*ck, I've got
a beautiful feeling,
"everything's going your way.
"Love, Dorothy."
She's quoting Oscar?
I write with her husband
for 24 years,
and she's quoting Oscar?
91st on the Park, The Ardsley.
We'll be going late.
All right. Well,
thanks again, fellas.
Good evening.
Indulge me for one second.
Let me recreate
for you, Elizabeth.
Enough!
Did you screw her or not?
Show some class, Eddie.
Knuckles, may I speak with you?
Oh, sure, yeah.
So,
did you screw her or not?
Elizabeth!
Larry!
My irreplaceable Elizabeth!
I'm so happy to see you.
Ah...
-Do you like the hair?
-I love it.
-It's much better than the red.
-I think so.
I mean, I liked the red, too.
But this is much more
other-worldly.
I have to go set up
for the party.
No, no, no.
I got you some flowers!
Aww.
I'm overwhelmed.
Well, I have that effect
on people.
-I have so much to tell you.
-Like what?
I've been writing
in my journal again.
I hope you let me read it.
No, no, no, no. The big one.
And these are what
Richard Rodgers is getting?
Larry, my mother would die
if she saw this.
-With your permission.
-Permission granted.
-That guy I told you about?
-Cooper?
-It finally happened.
-No!
Yes.
On my birthday.
The night of my 20th birthday.
Pretty dramatic actually.
You could write a play about it.
A musical. He Has Risen.
-Larry...
-It's an Easter musical!
It's very religious!
Let me clarify by saying
it almost happened.
Clarify immediately!
I'm gonna tell you
the whole story later.
No, no, I demand
to know the shorthand version
now.
-The shorthand version? Okay.
-Mmm-hmm.
The skin on his back
was flawless.
Gotta run.
You're going to introduce me
to Richard Rodgers, right?
Before the evening is over,
you're going to get
a huge handful of d*ck.
Larry! You're so vulgar!
Handful of d*ck, that's funny.
-Hey...
-Hmm.
I'm writing an entire musical
about her.
It's inspired by those
Frank Capra w*r pictures
Why We Fight.
This one will be called
Why We f*ck.
And the big ballad at the end
will be
The Skin On His Back
Was Flawless.
Of course, when you're 20,
what other commodity do you have
to trade in on except your body?
You haven't done anything,
right?
Can you imagine what Elizabeth
would write if she saw my back?
"The skin on his back
"looked like a white bed sheet
someone had thrown-up on.
"His pecker looked like the horn
of a Ret*rded unicorn."
Just one...
to get me through
congratulating him.
Larry.
To the skin on her back
like every other part of her,
flawless.
Wow.
How can so much pleasure
be compressed
into so small a container?
That's it. Absolutely no more.
Agreed?
God! I miss Gershwin.
I bet I saw Porgy
and Bess more times
than any other person
in this city.
Best line in Porgy,
"When Gawd made cr*pple,
He mean him to be lonely."
Did you ever think
your entire life is a play...
-Hmm.
-...and that, you know,
99% of the people in it,
they got no lines, you know?
They're just like extras.
And you, you're just an extra
in their play.
Deep. Very deep.
-I got thoughts, too, you know.
-Really?
I thought you were
just an extra.
Will somebody get these f*cking
flowers off my bar?
Okay!
You've got to see her as I did.
-I just seen her.
-No, the first time.
If you can't see that,
you can't understand
what this whole night is about.
I'm beginning to think
you didn't screw her.
I want to practice this trick
on you before I do it for her.
And I'm not showing it to her
as a trick.
I'm showing it to her
as an experiment to prove
there's an extra-sensory link
between us.
She believes in
all that horseshit, you know,
talking for 20 minutes
about psychokinesis.
I don't understand
a f*cking word she's saying.
I'm sitting there,
nodding, thinking,
"Is she really wearing
a grape-colored brassiere?"
And later, I'm going
to teach you boys
my own card game.
-c*cksucker's Rummy!
-Larry, language.
Ooh, you're offended
by the word "c*cksucker"?
All right, I won't use it.
I give you my word
as a c*cksucker.
But let me tell you
about the first time I saw her.
I think I'd rather
see the card trick.
Me, too.
You know what the sexiest thing
on the planet earth is?
A half-erect p*nis.
Jesus Christ, Larry,
nobody wants to hear this.
I'm not talking to you.
-Who you talking to?
-Me.
I got to talk to somebody
interesting. I mean it, though.
A half-erect p*nis is a promise.
A fully-erect p*nis
is an exclamation point.
As a writer, it offends me.
It's too loud,
it's too adolescent.
The story's already over.
But a half-erect p*nis,
is it going or is it coming?
But women appeal to me precisely
for their absence of penises.
Me, too.
Oh, they live
in a much more interesting
emotional landscape than we do.
A landscape we can
only dream about.
But this evening
is not about landscapes.
It's a portrait of Elizabeth,
and only Elizabeth.
Here we f*cking go again.
Wait, you saw
that she was beautiful, right?
I mean,
if not classically beautiful,
then, what's the right word...
Nice t*ts.
Small but very inviting.
I wish I could paint her.
That seems to me
the most intimate way
of looking at a person.
At the same time,
the least sentimental.
To accurately reproduce
the planes of her face,
the two tiny freckles
on her left cheek.
You look familiar. I've seen
your picture somewhere.
You're a writer?
Well, then you will appreciate
this story.
Because it concerns the...
Ineffable?
That's the perfect word.
Christ! You're E.B. White!
You're "Andy" White!
I cannot tell you
how much I enjoy your essays.
Nothing has given me
more pleasure.
-I'm in love with your language.
-Thank you.
I'm in love
with your punctuation.
You can't move a single comma.
Am I right?
I mean,
you're a musician, White.
You're the musician.
You know, you, above all people,
will appreciate this story.
This girl, Elizabeth.
I... I can't do my act for her.
You know what I mean?
She wouldn't be interested.
She never asks me about me.
Never. And it isn't
so much indifference, I think,
as much as we both recognize
that she's legitimately
more interesting than I am.
And I genuinely mean that.
Did you guys see her hair?
That's what I first noticed
when she walked
into the theater last July.
It was as if she were breathing
different air than I was.
-I like that.
-I'm telling you, White,
she would make a great musical!
And not one g*dd*mn corn stalk
in the whole show!
And, hey, fellas,
just for the record,
"The corn is as high
as an elephant's eye"
is the stupidest lyric
in the history
of American songwriting.
Yes, it makes perfect sense,
and, yes, it scans,
but the image
of an Oklahoma cornfield
with a f*cking elephant
standing in the middle of it?
I like elephants.
Yeah, we all like elephants,
Eddie.
Look, Andy,
I need you to see this.
I'm listening to her talk,
but I couldn't tell you
a single word she said
'cause all I'm really
thinking is,
"Wait till you feel the warmth
of her glance,
"pensive and sweet and wise."
I was writing about her
when I wrote that lyric.
Three perfect words,
in the perfect order.
And, you tell me,
what other lyricist could've
gotten away with "pensive"?
What song was that?
Just telling you,
when I'm good, I'm really good.
Just the sound of it!
That's what a writer does.
We wear our vulnerability
like a cloak
for all the world to witness.
I like the word "cloak."
That's 'cause
it's an antique like us.
Can I get you another drink?
Sure. Why not?
I can think of
a thousand reasons why not,
but they can't compete
with the reasons why.
Eddie, pass the Lord
and praise the house physician!
Another round!
Just a little, just...
You know
what I loved in that essay
you wrote about Florida?
That line.
"The sea answers all questions
and always the same way...
"'So soon?'"
Jesus.
To take a sound
and transform it into what?
A sigh of eternity.
My diminutive gift.
To the poetry
that pours down on us
from a thousand
unexpected sources.
To your poetry.
Hmm.
Look, she's 20, I'm 47.
Let's discuss this like two
sensible alcoholics.
It was in the beginning,
everything was exactly
as it seemed.
I was her mentor,
and I suppose I was, you know,
the "grand old man"
of the theater in her eyes.
I'm over at the Shubert
rehearsing By Jupiter,
the show is a holy mess.
And I'm having this debate
with Johnny Green
about the lyrics
to Give My Regards to Broadway.
I remember, as a kid,
falling in love with that song.
Give my regards
to old Broadway
And say that
I'll be there 'ere long
I knew instantly,
even as a kid,
that what gave that line
its speed,
its inevitability,
was the inner rhyme.
And not just the "there, 'ere."
But the other one.
The "way, say."
The line should logically be,
"Give my regards to old Broadway
"and tell them
that I'll be there."
But to change the verb to "say,"
it made all the difference.
Knuckles, do you know any Cohan?
Over there!
Over there!
Send the word, send the word
Over there
That the Yanks are coming!
The Yanks are coming!
The drum drum-drumming
everywhere...
We'll be over
We're coming over!
And we won't come back
'till it's over, over there!
You know what the Yanks really
sang in the Great w*r?
"We won't come back.
We'll be buried over there!"
And they were.
Total number of deaths
in the Great w*r, 37 million.
I think maybe
the adjective "great"
should never precede
the word "w*r."
Amen to that.
What does God think when he
looks down on his creation
and sees that under
the noblest of motives,
we sent 37 million people
to their grave?
That's why it's raining
all the time. God is weeping.
Well, I'm a patriot. I am.
I mean, you're a soldier.
God bless you.
But how many are going to die
this time around?
Will we even be able
to put a number on it?
I'm on leave.
Taking care of my mother.
She's more terrified than I am.
When do you ship out?
In two weeks,
they're sending me back
to that hotbed
of enemy activity.
Bradley Beach, New Jersey.
I'm teaching Morse code
at the Hotel Grossman.
Bradley Beach,
where enemy agents
stroll the boardwalk
disguised as elderly
Jewish women in furs.
I used to play hide the sausage
with a girl from Bradley Beach.
Oh, yeah?
Did you read that piece
in Life about Guadalcanal?
Mm-mm.
-How before the battle,
the soldiers were skipping
silver dollars in the water
instead of stones
'cause they knew
they were never coming back.
I couldn't enlist. My eyes.
What's the matter? They open?
Speaking of people
who are not coming back,
I would like you to read this.
It's from
the By Jupiter playbill.
Out loud!
Uh...
"Rodgers and Hart,
"they're as different
as a dachshund and a dromedary.
"One likes opera and home life,
"the other goes
for night clubs and people.
"One is married
and has two children,
"the other is single
and supports bartenders."
You're welcome, Eddie.
"The little fella,
that's Larry, smokes cigars,
"big, black, small, brown,
any kind.
"While d*ck, that's Rodgers,
only uses cigarettes.
"One goes to bed
about 4:30 every morning,
"the other never dissipates."
-Perfect verb, right?
-Mmm.
"Despite their physical
"and temperamental differences,
however,
"their intellects complement
each other like ham and eggs.
"Their individual songs
number well over a thousand."
A thousand songs?
"They disagree violently,
but they never fight,
"and in the 20-odd years
"they've been
practicing their craft,
"they have never worked
with anyone but each other..."
Until now.
Impressive.
I wrote it myself.
And not one single mention
of Blue f*cking Moon.
I sent Elizabeth
some of my sheet music.
No response. I don't get it.
She's a b*tch.
That's what they're gonna
put on my tombstone.
-"She's a b*tch"?
-"Lorenz Milton Hart.
"He didn't get it."
And people will come to
my gravesite and say,
"You know what?
I didn't get it either.
I definitely didn't get it.
-Hey, Larr, I get it!
-So, listen.
Elizabeth and I had a weekend.
We actually did.
One passionate,
transcendent weekend,
end of last summer
before she went back to Yale.
It's the closest I've ever felt
in my life
to pure selflessness.
It was nuanced, it was deep.
How deep exactly?
Listen, clown. I met her,
and the first thing I said
to her was, "Excuse me,
"but you have the best style
of anyone in this theater."
I wish I had a photograph
of that moment.
I wish I had a photograph
of every moment
I've spent with her.
I'm having trouble
getting this right.
I'm trying to pin down...
Oh, Andy, help me.
What's the right word?
Enchantment?
And you know how hard that is.
I couldn't believe
that it was me
she wanted to talk to.
I kept looking
around the theater,
there must be somebody else
she's interested in.
But no!
She's plunking herself down
in the theater seat
right next to me,
as close as modesty will allow.
And my heart is actually racing.
And I don't ever feel this way,
not for men or for women.
But she's wearing
this yellow sundress,
and it is hot in the theater.
And she's talking
to me for hours.
Bare leg draped
over the armrest.
And I know this sounds like
I'm some middle-aged putz
with a crush on a pretty co-ed,
and maybe that's what it is.
But you know something?
Maybe that's not
what it is.
Sometimes I feel...
and don't laugh,
after a lifetime of blindly
colliding into strangers,
we've finally found a friend.
Maybe that's the definition
of enchantment.
One light-filled weekend!
I've got to finish
telling you this
before she comes back.
Are you listening to me?
Yeah, she got her legs
draped over the thing.
It was as if all the love lyrics
I had ever written
had, like, some sort
of verbal ectoplasm,
suddenly taken human form.
Ecto what?
That might be her mother.
She cannot hear this.
What about me?
You're just an extra.
Okay, but I still
get paid, right?
Absolutely.
It's important to me
that I nail this down.
It was a boiling hot
summer weekend,
and I asked,
with all the casualness
I could counterfeit,
if she'd like to, you know,
escape the heat of the city,
spend the weekend with me
on Lake Dunmore in Vermont.
And without a moment's
hesitation she said,
"I'd love to, Larry."
Oh, I'm telling you, Andy,
this is my type of girl.
I'm sorry,
excuse me, I'm babbling,
but how else do you describe
the actual present tense
of falling in love?
Is that what this is?
Maybe. I mean, I haven't done
anything wrong, okay?
I haven't violated the Mann Act
or even the Middle-Aged Man Act.
I bought her this painting
of Lake Dunmore,
bought it off
this old salt Vermonter.
I bought it
so that she might remember.
I once did a little canoeing
up around there.
Hey, Larry!
And then?
Act Three. Later that day,
she's in the warmth
of the cabin.
There's a pennant
from Fort Ticonderoga
pinned to the wall.
She's wearing
this blue men's work shirt
with the sleeves rolled up.
All of her suddenly
available to me,
this gift of youth and brain
and clavicle.
I touched her shoulder,
and as some hack once scribbled,
"My heart stood still."
She took my hand
and said, "Larry,
"let's save this
for another day."
And all I can tell you,
my friend,
is there is a real possibility
that tonight is "another day."
Clearing back
a little bit.
Ladies, beautiful, beautiful!
Rodgers! Rodgers!
Yeah, beautiful!
Okay.
I appreciate that. Thanks.
Hey, thank you so much.
I appreciate it. Thank you.
Bravo!
Thank you so much.
Now, time for the real
performance of the evening.
Eddie, Eddie. Eddie,
get rid of this!
Hey.
So, did he f*ck her or not?
He thinks tonight
might be the night.
Oh... Larry. Larry, Larry.
What do you think
she sees in him?
I think she sees
a rich and famous guy
who can help her career.
I think she recognizes
she's being adored
by one of the great appreciators
of beauty.
-You know what else I think?
-Yeah?
I think she is wearing
a grape-colored brassiere.
All right, Rodgers.
Gentlemen, please let's get one.
Beautiful. Come on.
All right, big smile!
-Beautiful.
-d*ck! d*ck!
My God! The show
is going to run 20 years!
It's going to be bigger
than Abie's Irish Rose!
-We'll see.
-And much more goyish,
so it can tour.
Well, thanks
for coming, Larry.
-Oh, Oscar!
-Larry.
You get taller
every time I see you.
What can I say?
The lyrics are brilliant.
Poetic when they need
to be poetic,
funny when they need
to be funny.
Not a rhyme out of place,
easy on the ear.
I'm just a fool
when lights are low
Perfect!
Did you hear me applauding?
I think you were
the loudest person
in the entire theater!
That's because I loved it
more than anyone else
in the entire theater!
-Let me get you boys a drink.
-Oh, no, thank you.
-Um...
-Larry, you got two minutes?
Give us a minute.
Excuse us, Oscar.
Um...
So, uh, Dwight Wiman and I
have been talking about bringing
back A Connecticut Yankee.
Terrific!
Yeah, I'm thinking of asking
Vivienne Segal.
Oh! Mein Gott! Oh, it's gonna
run longer than Oklahoma!
I'll buy 50 seats myself.
I've got a new title,
Ohh, Camelot!
Well, I think we're gonna stick
with A Connecticut Yankee.
Camelot Exclamation Point?
Okay, come on.
I'm being serious here.
I'm always serious. That's why
people find me so funny.
So I was thinking, if you feel
up to working, then maybe...
I've never felt better
in my life, d*ck.
Congratulations, d*ck. I don't
want to bother you. I just...
We all just loved it.
-Oh, you did?
-It's going to be a big hit.
Oh, thank you. Thank you.
Appreciate that.
-It's Gladys, right? Yes.
-Yes! Yeah.
Yes, nice to see you. Um...
Yeah, I was... I was thinking,
um, not just a revival,
I was thinking a whole new book.
We were thinking
four or five new numbers.
That I write?
Of course, that you write.
That we write together.
It's been 16 years,
you know that,
since we did that show?
It needs updating,
don't you think?
1927! The Vanderbilt!
Yeah, it can be the new Rodgers
and Hart show for the fall.
-New gags, new songs.
-New references.
We'll satirize the whole w*r.
Rationing, rubber drives,
nylon drives,
a new number for Vivienne.
-Go easy with the satire, Larry.
-Very nice job.
-Hello, nice to see you.
-Very nice piece.
Appreciate it. Thank you.
There came a lull
then Cordell Hull
Sent orders from above
I'm sorry, girls,
put down your pearls
'Cause now
we're rationing love
And how do we get Cordell Hull
into Camelot?
Who cares? It's funny!
d*ck! From
the New York Journal-American.
"As enchanting to the eye
"as Richard Rodgers' music
is to the ear."
-Okay.
-Yeah, it's nice.
That's good. Good start.
So, uh, are you up for that?
Are you feeling healthy?
Is that something
you could take seriously?
Yeah. I'm on the wagon, d*ck.
I'm serious.
Been drinking
ginger ale all night.
Well, except for this second
'cause this second
we have to celebrate.
This is the greatest musical
in the history
of American theater.
No, no. I'm not drinking
with you, Larry.
Okay, okay, all right.
Weegee! Weegee! sh**t this!
-What? Oh, no.
-No, no, no.
-Larry, I got to...
-Hey.
Rodgers and Hart,
together again!
All right, closer!
Come on, closer!
I want ten copies of that.
Great. Write me a check.
Yeah.
So, you...
you think you're up to that?
It's the best idea
I've heard in 16 years.
At the same time,
I think we should be
dreaming about
something completely new.
Don't you agree?
New Rodgers and Hart, something
people haven't seen before.
Something big!
Let's start
with the revival first.
Absolutely.
We'll take it one step
at a time...
-Yeah, but...
-...because I really think we...
-Hear me out.
-...can have a future together.
Who doesn't think that?
But I want to be
one of those composers
who works with, uh, you know,
other lyricists.
Like Arlen, Kern. You love Kern.
I love Kern.
I wanted to be Kern.
But we have to work
like professionals, Larry.
Since when haven't I worked
like a professional?
I want to work at specific times
in the morning, at my office.
-I want to adhere to a schedule.
-Yeah. That's what we do.
I don't want to spend any more
time looking for you, Larry.
Well, I'm right here.
Small as life!
You know what I mean.
I don't want to be calling up
your mother
at nine o'clock in the morning,
so that,
maybe, you might
roll out of bed at noon. Right?
-d*ck...
-I just don't want to do
what we did.
That's all I'm saying.
It's a business, that's all.
Maybe I shouldn't bring it up
tonight, but I don't know,
-I wanted... I wanted to...
-All I want is to...
That was
your best one yet.
-Really.
-All right, thank you.
-Who is that?
-All I want is to write a show
we both love.
Yeah, I feel the same way.
d*ck! Burns Mantle
just called it
"The most thoroughly
and attractively
"American musical comedy
"since Show Boat."
-Since Show Boat?
-Yeah.
Wow. That's good.
-Truly spectacular.
-Thank you, nice to see you.
I have to fall in love
with a show, d*ck.
I have to want
to write that show
more than anything in the world,
to be in that audience,
sitting there
not missing a single word.
All right, well, we start with
A Connecticut Yankee,
four or five numbers,
and we go...
Okay, look.
Here's what I'm thinking.
The Adventures of Marco Polo.
d*ck, d*ck! Wonderful show.
Oh, thank you so much.
Nice to see you.
Just... just big.
Bigger than Jumbo. Epic.
A three-ring musical circus.
The show lasts four hours
with a dinner break!
It's grand comic opera.
And the stage set is the world!
-Uh-huh.
-We satirize everybody.
And you get to satirize them
musically.
We send up every national
musical cliche there is.
The France number,
the Italian number,
when they get
to the Heart of Darkness,
the cannibals are doing
Porgy and Bess. Boom, boom.
Bess,
you is my dinner now!
Jesus, Larry. Come on.
This show is going
to have the scope of a novel.
It will be
the greatest challenge
you've ever had as a composer.
And what grounds it all,
what lets the audience
enter this story
is the girl.
-Uh-huh.
-This ethereal girl
whom Marco Polo has left behind.
She's half his age...
...but it's the first time
he's felt that inkling
of love in years, maybe ever.
He swears in the first scene.
We set this up like Benedick
in Much Ado...
-Right.
-He swears that he's beyond
the reach of any woman.
He scorns love.
And we do a whole number
satirizing love songs.
No. Larry, I want to write shows
that have some emotional core
to them...
-d*ck, great music. Great show!
-Hello, how are you?
Thank you. I'll take that.
You're a tough critic.
-Thank you.
-Thank you.
Remember, we established
in the first scene
that he's anti-love?
Then he meets the girl.
She's a sort of free-spirit,
Scandinavian-looking
with two freckles
on her left cheek,
-it's absurd.
-Don't do that.
She lives socially,
psychologically, sexually
in another universe
than he does, but he is slain.
He stands there paralyzed
in the light
of her pale green eyes.
This is the greatest explorer
in the history of the world,
and none of it
means anything to him
unless it's a way
to make her see him.
That is
the emotional core of the story.
-Okay.
-We take this legendary,
larger-than-life man,
and we make him bleed.
Mr. Rodgers,
my name is Robert Heffner.
I'm the Mayor of Oklahoma City.
Eve and I have traveled
all the way to New York
-just to see the show.
-Okay. You know...
Welcome to New York.
We're finishing a conversation.
He'll be with you
in two minutes.
Does that sound good?
Two minutes,
I'll be right with you.
Thank you,
I hope it was worth it.
-It certainly was.
-Good to see you. Thank you.
All right, so come on.
Come on, come on, come on.
And they end up together?
Come on.
That's what the audience
is waiting around to find out!
That's the engine
that's driving the whole story.
All right, well, look, Larry,
if you're willing to write it,
really write it, and rewrite it,
and rewrite it again,
then, you know, it could work.
But I'm not gonna beg you
for this, Larry. You know?
We work for 15 minutes,
you're out the door
looking for a cigar store.
-It drives me...
-Okay.
It drives me really crazy.
I don't like it.
-I don't want to do it anymore.
-We've worked like that
-for 24 years.
-Congratulations, d*ck!
That's exactly what we've
done for 24 years.
-Thank you.
-About time the Guild had
-a goddamned hit.
-Yeah.
You're absolutely,
absolutely right.
Anyway, I'm not going to...
I'm not going to fight
with you, Larry.
-Who's fighting?
-I don't know.
With a w*r on,
do audiences
really want to watch
cannibals singing
Porgy and Bess?
And what do audiences
want to watch?
Cowboys a-whoopin'-it-up
at the box social?
Well, yes. Apparently.
Oh, that's right, I forgot.
Oklahoma, exclamation point,
addresses the urgency
of a nation at w*r.
I think every serviceman
in that audience tonight
thought about what
we're fighting for,
even for a second or two,
he thought about it.
And what is it
we're fighting for, exactly?
Feisty little girls
in gingham dresses
who can't say no?
-Okay. All right.
-d*ck, d*ck, d*ck. Come on.
Just between you and me,
those characters are
unrecognizable as human beings.
I think plenty of people
recognized them.
They recognized love.
He needs rescuing, big time.
They recognized, uh, family.
They recognized pride
in their country.
You're starting to sound like
Yankee Doodle Dandy.
I think there's significantly
more there to recognize, Larry,
than a bunch
of singing cannibals.
But cannibals are much funnier,
admit it.
d*ck, you want to come
and read these!
Yeah, hang on! Hang on.
Be right there.
Okay, okay, okay, okay.
Okay, okay, okay, okay.
I know exactly what you mean.
Just tell me... What do you
really want to write?
What's your dream show?
-My dream show?
-Yeah.
Oklahoma!
I mean, next.
Uh... We're talking about
getting the rights to Liliom.
-The Molnr play?
-Yeah.
-That was cornball in 1909.
-Yeah?
You really want
to write a musical
about a carnival barker
who beats up his girlfriend,
-dies, comes back...
-I think it'll work.
Yeah, and at the end,
all the dead people could take
off their halos and go,
"Oh... Purgatory!"
Look,
I will do it if you force me to.
-It's just in my heart of...
-No, I'm not forcing you to.
Oscar's going to do it.
What does Oscar know
about turn-of-the-century
Budapest?
He's going to Americanize it.
He's going to modernize it.
We're going to set it in Maine.
Maine? Right,
with all due respect,
modernizing Molnr
-is a deeply...
-You got to read this!
Is it the Times?
Burton Rascoe's
World-Telegram review.
-It's a rave.
-Good.
We'll have the Times
any moment.
Okay. Larry, I've got to go.
The Times is coming.
Okay, okay.
-Wish me luck.
-Mazel tov!
As they say in Maine.
Hey, d*ck.
That was perfect.
Oh, thank you.
Nice to see you.
Did you enjoy it?
What does d*ck Rodgers
know of Maine?
He was bar-mitzvahed
for Christ's sake!
How long are they going
to keep selling that fairy tale?
"Have faith, have hope,
"the dead will arise
to comfort us!"
Like f*ck they will.
Give me another shot,
Eddie. A real one.
Join me for a shot, Andy?
Please.
How ya holding up?
You know how in a marriage
they say
"for better or for worse"?
I think in terms of my life,
I've entered
the "for worse" part.
And it happened so quietly
I didn't even recognize it.
Have you ever felt that way?
Every day of my life.
Thank you.
Sometimes I think,
"Even God is finished with me."
I've had my hits,
I've loved a small,
dear collection of people.
And now he's turned the page.
I feel superannuated.
"Superannuated."
That's a good thing, isn't it?
It means your d*ck doesn't work.
Must be why
I don't know that word.
Hmm.
Put me on the list.
You notice the birds
are back in Central Park?
Hmm. What are you working
on these days?
Children's book.
Must have burned myself out
writing those essays,
it's not going well.
I think,
as far as my writing goes,
I've also entered
the "for worse" part.
What's your story about?
I wish I knew.
The journey everybody takes?
Searching for what's perfect
and unattainable?
The ineffable!
Probably too elusive an idea
to put into a children's book.
I have a line for you.
"He chased her around the bed
all night before concluding
"she was ineffable."
Sure you don't mean "uneffable"?
Better.
You know,
I'm in the park every morning,
liberating this mouse
I keep catching in my kitchen.
-Yeah?
-I have this little glass box
that captures the mouse
but doesn't k*ll him.
And every morning
I walk into my kitchen,
and there he is,
at the bottom
of the refrigerator.
My little brown mouse,
happily eating the cr*cker
I left for him.
And every morning,
I carry him down to the park,
open the box.
He leaps out ten feet,
scurries into the underbrush.
And then the next morning,
I'll be damned,
he is back in the box!
How do you know
it's the same mouse?
Well, he certainly
looks the same.
He has that same New York look
of doomed hopefulness.
But how does he get up
the 19 floors?
Maybe he's tipping the doorman.
You know,
this morning he wasn't there.
Just the cr*cker
lying in the box.
I actually missed
the little fella, I really did.
I think I've started
to identify with him.
Does he have a name?
I'm calling him Stuart.
With a "W" or a "U"?
Hmm. A "U." Nothing fancy.
Just a regular
middle-class mouse.
I think you'll have
to excuse me.
All this jubilation
has gone to my bladder.
"Agnes de Mille
works small miracles
"and devising original dances
"that fit the story
and the tunes.
"Oklahoma! is fresh..."
-Okay, I got something funny.
-Hmm.
What do you call
a tired h*m*?
I don't know.
f*ck, I forgot.
That's really funny.
"The play's
spine-tingling,
out of this world!"
You know,
when Atkinson wrote
that review for Pal Joey,
you remember that?
"Drab and mirthless.
"Can one draw sweet water
from a foul well?"
I cried.
That's how hurt I was.
I cried
in Vivienne Segal's arms.
She hugged me and said,
"History is going
to prove him wrong, darling."
Wasn't that
the sweetest thing in the world
for someone to say?
And she actually calls me
"darling." Hmph.
Wow.
Time magazine wrote,
"For those who can park
their morals in the lobby,
"Pal Joey is a wow."
What kind of piece-of-sh*t
praise is that?
I'm talking
about Pal Joey.
Right.
I didn't see that one.
Wolcott Gibbs,
he loved the show.
He said it was,
"A song and dance production
"with living
three-dimensional figures,
"talking and behaving
like human beings."
-Ah, see? There you go.
-Mmm-hmm.
You're still going
to introduce me
to Rodgers tonight, right?
Urination for me
has turned into a two-act play
with a brief intermission.
Oh, I love Vivienne.
God help me.
Her compassion.
Oh, did I tell you
she calls me "darling"?
We were up
at the Starlight Roof.
I turned to her and I said,
"Vivienne, will you
please marry me?"
That's what I told her.
Right to her face.
Can you imagine
having the courage
to say that to a woman?
I've never had the courage
to even dream of saying that.
Mmm-hmm. Yeah. It was a moment.
Let me tell you. 2:00 a.m.,
the band was playing
I've Heard That Song Before.
She said, "I love you, darling,
"just not that way."
"Not that way."
Three little words.
Ten little letters that mean,
"Game over, schmuck."
Ah, "Think it over," I told her.
I took her hand in mine,
her nail polish was pale gray...
Now... I can drink.
May I remind everybody
what Mike Todd said
about Oklahoma! in New Haven,
"No laughs, no t*ts,
"no chance"?
We have a chance now.
All right, read that out.
Okay, wow.
Wonderful. This is what
Nichols said in the Times.
"Wonderful
is the nearest adjective,
"for this excursion of the Guild
"combines a fresh
and infectious gaiety,
"a charm of manner,
"beautiful acting,
dancing and singing,
"and a score by Richard Rodgers
which doesn't do
any harm either,
"since it is one of his best.
"Mr. Rodgers's scores
never lack grace,
"but seldom have they been
so well-integrated
"as this for Oklahoma!
"He has turned out waltzes,
love songs,
"comic songs and a title number
"which the State in question
would do well to adopt
"as its anthem forthwith.
" Oh, What a Beautiful Morning,
"and People Will Say
We're in Love
"are headed for countless
jukeboxes across the land.
"And a dirge called 'Pore Jud',
in which the hero of the fable
"tries to persuade his rival
to hang himself
is amazingly comic.
"The Farmer and the Cowman
"and The Surrey
with the Fringe on the Top
"also deserve mention
"only because they quite clearly
approach perfection."
Read that part again.
"...because they quite clearly
approach perfection."
Put that on the marquee!
"Quite clearly
approaches perfection."
Come on, everybody!
Party upstairs!
Cake and champagne.
Oh, Oscar! Bravo, bravo.
Congratulations. Oh...
Can I speak with you
for a moment?
Can we talk later, Larry?
No, no, no. It's just a second.
I have something
important to say.
Just a moment
with the musical genius.
I just have one thing
I want to tell you, d*ck.
Uh... Just one second, d*ck.
It's important.
I remember
when I first heard about you,
you were just Morty Rodger's
little brother.
-What, were you 17?
-Yeah, I was 23.
-Swell job.
Yeah, you were the wise old man
on the mountain.
But when I first heard you
play your stuff,
I knew you had it.
I wasn't entirely convinced
that I had it,
but I heard something
that afternoon.
Originality, melody, grace...
Oh...
Come on.
Come on, Larry. Stop it.
Come on, what's the matter
with you?
You worked your whole life
for this night, d*ck.
Nobody's worked harder.
And nobody deserves it more.
All right, thanks.
Thanks, Larry. Thank you.
All right, that's
what I wanted... Just go...
...enjoy your party.
-Hey, look at me. Look at me.
-Mmm-hmm?
We're going to do
A Connecticut Yankee, all new.
-Yeah, yeah.
-We're gonna write
four or five new songs.
-I have ideas already.
-Right?
Yeah, yeah. And if I get some
pages down for Marco Polo,
can I send them over?
You have to ask me that?
Larry, I owe
my professional life to you.
Summer journeys
to Niagara
And to other places
Aggravate all our cares...
You remember we heard that
on the radio for the first time?
In your parents' living room.
Our first hit.
That was one of the most
astonishing moments
of my life, Larry.
I was 22.
And I'm telling you,
I swear to God,
our best work
is still ahead of us.
Yes, the new
Connecticut Yankee!
Yeah, yeah. And bigger stuff.
-d*ck, get up here.
-All right. I'm coming!
I mean, Marco Polo is going
to be a show about joy...
but a hard-earned joy,
an unsentimental joy.
Something wrong
with sentimental?
What? It's too easy.
Oklahoma! is too easy?
The guy actually
getting the girl
at the end is too easy?
You've just eliminated every
successful musical comedy...
...ever written, Larry.
Then it's too easy for me.
Did you hear
the audience tonight?
Yes.
Sixteen hundred people
didn't think it was too easy.
You're telling me
1,600 people are wrong?
I'm just saying...
that you and I can do something
so much more
emotionally complicated.
We don't have to pander
to what audiences...
-Oscar and I are pandering?
-No. I didn't say that.
-Irving Berlin is pandering?
-I love Berlin.
White Christmas is pandering?
Well, I don't
believe White Christmas.
Okay.
Well, maybe audiences
have changed.
Well, they still want to laugh.
They want to laugh,
but not in that way.
-Not in what way?
-In your way.
They want to laugh, but they
also want to cry a little.
They want to...
they want to feel.
Hmm.
You're my oldest friend.
You're...
-you're unique.
-Hmm.
Sounds like you're
writing my obituary.
-I'm just saying.
-I'm right here, right now.
-Ready to work.
-Yeah?
Hmm.
And you're willing to go
back to Doctors Hospital?
I don't need to go back
to Doctors Hospital,
and I don't need
a psychiatrist either.
Thank you very much.
We were just trying
to help you, Larry.
Who's we?
You and Oscar? Help me?
Oscar? You think Oscar
had anything to do with it?
Oklahoma! is going to be
the biggest hit of your career.
You don't know that.
You don't know that.
You got that as*h*le Kron
to manage my money.
Now I'm incapable...
I did that at the insistence
of your brother, Larry.
Teddy literally begged me...
Well, maybe you and Teddy
should write the lyrics.
I did write the lyrics.
What is that supposed to mean?
By Jupiter? Have you
conveniently blocked that out?
Blocked what out?
How Logan and I begged you
for extra choruses,
extra verses,
and you were so drunk
that you didn't even show up.
So, yes,
I had to write the lyrics.
You didn't write
one f*cking word...
How would you know?
-...of that show.
-How would you know, Larry?
You weren't around to even...
You know what?
I'm actually not going to argue
with you tonight,
-if that's all right with you.
-I like to argue.
Well I don't. I don't.
Look, I am sorry.
I don't care
if somebody attacks me.
It doesn't mean anything to me.
But nobody can attack my work.
It is all I've got.
Your work is brilliant.
That's not the problem.
Your work has been brilliant
since the day I met you.
Do you still remember that?
You, standing there
in your carpet slippers
and your stripy bathrobe?
Yeah, with the five o'clock
shadow at 11:00 a.m.
I'll remember that
till the last day of my life.
Okay.
-Larry, I got to go upstairs.
-I know.
-The whole company's waiting.
-Of course. Of course.
Four or five songs, yes?
I'm telling you,
I'm having ideas already!
A big comedy solo for Vivienne
about how she's k*lled off
every single
one of her previous husbands.
Might be funny.
We can call it
To Keep Our Love Alive!
-You okay, Larry?
-Mmm-hmm.
What happened to White?
-Left.
-"So soon?"
There was so much more
I wanted to say to him.
Maybe he was an extra, too.
One more?
Last one, Larry.
Do you know
the ineffectual blues?
That's because
I haven't written it yet.
They should put
my picture on that bottle.
"The Whiskey That Made
Lorenz Hart Unemployable."
"Buy w*r Bonds."
You know, I've started
to hear things wrong.
The other night, I was listening
to this singer go on
about "her cigarette heart."
And I thought, "Now that
is an original metaphor,
"'My cigarette heart.'"
Then I realized she was singing
"My secret heart."
I can't remember
anything anymore either.
That should be the title
of my autobiography,
"Stop Me
If I've Told You This Already."
And we'll print the entire text
twice.
No, I'm serious.
I've seen her do it before.
As long as there's
no dancing
later on in the night.
You better watch yourself...
My irreplaceable Elizabeth!
Larry!
-Do you like it?
-It's...
Oscar Hammerstein
just said I was a gem!
He has such a way with words.
George, this is Lorenz Hart.
I am legitimately honored
to meet you.
Would you mind if I spoke
to Elizabeth alone
for two minutes?
And then she's all yours.
It would be perfectly all right
as long as you promise me
your autograph before I go.
George is a senior
at Yale.
He's studying music,
but he wants to be a director.
A director.
Well, what's your name?
George Hill.
Here's my advice to you,
future director, George Hill.
Do you want my advice?
I'd be honored.
Be careful of love stories.
Think about friendship stories.
That's where
the really enduring stuff lives.
-Thank you. I'll remember that.
-Hmm!
Catch up with you later, George.
My mother just gave me this.
I was really touched
she gave it to me.
My well-tempered clavicle.
Careful. My mother...
Okay. All right...
Sorry. Now, I know your birthday
isn't until November 19th.
I'm a scorpion.
I never doubted that
for a second.
Did you get the sheet music
I sent you?
Ah, I was so busy with exams,
I put them away,
honestly, and...
And then I kind of forgot
about them.
But now I've got the time.
I promise you.
I'm going
to get a friend of mine
to play every single one
of those songs for me.
Take your time.
That's the wonderful thing
about art, isn't it?
It waits for you.
Thank you for all the letters
you wrote me.
I really enjoyed reading them.
My roommate couldn't believe
I was actually corresponding
with Lorenz Hart.
I remember in Vermont,
you were drinking red wine.
Malbec. It's a big Yale drink.
You ask for the French Malbec,
and then you act
as if you can actually tell
which vineyard it came from.
Oh...
Don't mention Vermont
around my mother, okay?
She doesn't know anything
about our little getaway.
Actually, thank goodness.
She doesn't know about 90%
of what's going on in my life.
Well, I feel privileged
that I do.
Or that I did, back in August.
I've got much more stuff to
report on since then.
Well, tell me about the guys.
That's what I'm interested in.
Honestly,
I'm much smarter
than most of them.
So I sort of sit back
and watch them
trying to impress me.
It's pretty entertaining.
If I were a college guy,
I think
I would be afraid of you.
This intelligent,
mercilessly observant,
wickedly unsentimental beauty
sitting there,
evaluating me from somewhere
behind those green eyes,
annotating all my gaucheries.
My God, I would be terrified.
Hey, I'm not that intimidating.
Tell me more about this Cooper.
This is embarrassing.
I love it
when you're embarrassed,
you get this scarlet blush
that washes up over you,
and a second later it's gone.
This one might last
considerably longer.
-I'd love to...
-Elizabeth. Hello, Larry.
I hope I'm not interrupting
anything too weighty.
Well, weighty affairs
will have to wait.
She's a gem, isn't she?
Please, Mr. Hammerstein.
I'll only bother you
for a moment.
Larry, I just wanted to say...
Well, firstly, I recognize
this must be
a difficult night for you.
No, I'm a professional, Oscar.
We're both professionals,
we understand the nature
of our business.
Larry, did you really
like the show?
I don't think I do
the comedy numbers
half as well as you do.
They're not my strength.
I laughed my a*s off.
I had to have it re-attached.
Larry, we're the same age,
but you were always the teacher.
-No, Oscar. I...
-No, your whole career,
-you showed us the way.
-Well, I doubt...
You liberated us all.
You made American songs
finally sound
like American speech.
Stop. I dislike eulogies,
especially my own.
Oscar, tonight is your night.
A hit for you and d*ck
is a hit for all of us.
People finally want
to go see shows again.
Real shows. d*ck and I
were just tossing around
a few ideas.
-Wonderful.
-Yeah, we have this idea
for a big...
Marco Polo show... huge...
-Wow.
-...a kind of musical circus.
d*ck's excited about it.
He said you're adapting Liliom.
Well, if we can
finagle the rights.
-Sounds exciting.
-Elizabeth told me
-she's your protg.
-Stop.
"She's the promised kiss
of springtime
"that makes the lonely winter
seem long."
Oh, please.
You wrote a great lyric.
For a show
that didn't run three months.
-I saw it twice.
-You...
You know what we're talking
about here, Stevie?
Very Warm for May.
Produced by Max Gordon.
Music by Jerome Kern.
Alvin Theatre. 59 performances.
This is my neighbor.
He's a kind of a walking
encyclopedia of musical theater.
Well, I'm a kind of walking
pneumonia for musical theater.
-Nice to meet you.
-Pleasure to meet you.
He wants to write musicals
when he grows up.
Who's your favorite lyricist?
-Oscar.
-Mmm-hmm.
Of course. And what do you think
of my work?
I like it. It's funny.
Thank you.
Can be a little sloppy at times.
He's very tired.
It's been a long day.
Come on, Stevie.
It's a long ride
back to Doylestown.
-You want to go to the bathroom?
-I'm not tired.
He asked me
what I thought of his work.
"Weighty affairs
will just have to wait"?
I so regret not having children.
Cooper.
I can't believe
I'm telling you this.
-Tell me.
-You have to remember,
I've had a hopeless crush
on this guy
for over a year.
Hold this. Come here.
Renee, may I buy five minutes
of privacy, please?
Anything for you, Larry.
Thank you.
Tell me what he looks like,
I'm trying to visualize him.
Apollo? Blue eyes. Tall.
So, basically,
the skin on his back
-was flawless...
-Stop.
It's the night of your birthday.
Tell me everything.
A group of my friends
are taking...
Boyfriends, girlfriends?
-Mixed.
-Okay.
Come on, Larry,
I'm a college lady.
So they're taking me to Mory's,
which is technically
no women allowed,
but they smuggle us up
those backstairs
like so much
heavily-scented contraband,
and, of course, one of the girls
has brought along her date.
Cooper?
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.
-Drinking your French Malbec.
-Exactly.
I'm nothing
if not a good student.
That's why
everybody loves you, Larry.
You're the best listener
I ever met.
That's because I have absolutely
no interest
in myself whatsoever.
Back to your tale
of natal debauchery.
Empty wine bottles
filling the table...
-So it's late.
-Mmm-hmm.
-And Marjorie...
-The girl who came with Cooper?
She's left to go home and study.
Aww...
People are staggering out
one by one.
It's midnight.
And I find myself sitting
right next to him.
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.
Oh, I think I've got
to stay here
and help my mother...
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.
Okay, back to Cooper.
Okay.
We leave Mory's together.
It's a perfect November night.
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.
Not that you noticed.
He's looking good!
-And you?
-Um...
It's my birthday, right?
I'm supposed
to be looking good.
Tasty.
So I'm leaning
against that flannel work shirt,
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."
-Okay.
Hold on one second.
I have to go find some ice-water
and pour it down my trousers.
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.
And here comes one more.
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?
Happy birthday!
He begins
to take off his clothes.
You really want to hear this?
Uh, I'm mildly interested.
It's humiliating.
'Cause basically
nothing happened.
Nothing?
Like you and me
at the lake house?
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.
Oh, no.
He tried.
-He tried again.
-No.
-I tried.
-Oh, stop.
It was the worst 10 minutes
of my life.
It felt like 10 hours.
Oh, I'm sorry.
And you know
what the worst part was?
He just wasn't there, you know?
He kept mumbling that it was,
um, the wine.
That, um...
...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?
"Nobody ever loved me
that much."
I brought into that basement
a year's worth of adoration,
yeah, 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.
You deserve
so much better.
Yeah.
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.
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.
Oh, no.
It got uglier and uglier.
Finally, he said, "Elizabeth,
I owe you a rain check."
And that...
That was my 20th birthday.
Ta-da.
Jesus wept.
But it gets worse.
I don't think I can take it.
Okay, I can take it.
But just tell me in a way
that doesn't make me ashamed
to be a human being.
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.
Rain check cashed!
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.
Stop it.
He says to me,
"Happy belated birthday,
Elizabeth."
Mmm.
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.
Mmm.
He couldn't get off the phone
fast enough.
So I wrote to him.
A four-page typed letter.
-Single-spaced.
-Oh, no.
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 30 hours
just to spend
one more night with him.
What is the matter
with me, Larry?
Why would you drive 30 hours
to see someone
who treated you like that?
Because I'm in love with him?
You are?
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.
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.
And...
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.
Oh, Elizabeth.
Tell me truthfully.
How do you feel about me?
How do you mean?
I mean,
at the lake house,
with the light
burning off the water,
we talked
through half the night,
and I touched your shoulder...
Did you actually love me
a little bit that night?
You know I love you, Larry.
You do?
Just... not that way.
You said you'd drive 30 hours
to see Cooper.
How many hours would you drive
to see me?
Oh.
My hands are shaking.
I feel something wiser
and deeper for you.
-Mmm. Thank you.
-Respect.
Gratitude for the generosity
and 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.
I'm grateful to you, too,
for resurrecting me.
Stop.
Larry!
There's people out here.
One second!
Can I ask you something?
Something that's probably
too personal for me to ask?
Too personal is the only thing
that I'm interested in.
Uh... My mother...
You know,
she works for the Guild,
she knows everybody.
So she saw us spending time
together last summer...
I see where this is headed.
She said to me... I don't...
I don't know how to say this.
Just say it.
Okay.
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."
What did you say?
I said, "Look, Mother,
I know what I know.
"And I know what
we're both feeling."
Mmm-hmm.
What are we both feeling?
"Irrational adoration?"
And what may I ask
does your mother think
she knows
of my primary interest?
I'm sorry.
I shouldn't have said anything.
Please forgive me.
To all our mothers.
May they remain
mercifully silent.
I apologize. That was stupid
of me to have asked.
And I do know what I know,
and what I feel.
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 20-year-old poet
with pale green eyes
and two tiny freckles
on her left cheek.
Are you all right?
It's...
...my cigarette heart.
Larry, d*ck Rodgers
is looking for his coat.
Coming.
Introduce me?
Thank you, Renee.
Wonderful, thank you so much.
d*ck, I want to introduce you
to my protg,
Elizabeth Weiland.
Your protg?
-Hello.
-Hello.
Well, you've got yourself
a damn good role model there
if you can stay away
from the bourbon.
Mmm. She's interested in writing
and set design and costumes.
Okay, really?
Mr. Rodgers, the show tonight,
I thought it was magnificent.
Well, thank you.
It was as perfect a musical show
as I've ever seen.
Well, that's
a lovely compliment.
Your mother's
with the Guild, am I right?
-Yes, Theresa Weiland.
-Yeah, Theresa, yeah.
Right, so you've seen
a lot of shows.
Too many shows.
Yeah.
I know what you mean.
But tonight what I saw was
what I'd always hoped
a show might be.
Uplifting. Smart. Magical.
Larry, this is the most
perceptive young woman
you've ever introduced me to.
-I've had a good teacher.
-Mmm-hmm.
So, what do you write?
At this point, poetry mostly.
It's very strong.
And you do set design, too?
-I'm studying.
-Right.
Well, I'd love to...
read some of your poems.
Uh... See your sketches.
This is my...
This is my private number.
I'm flattered.
I haven't seen Dorothy around.
Is... Is... Is your wife here?
No, she's headed back
to the apartment.
We're all going to meet up there
to look at the late reviews,
Larry.
Yeah, so I'd love for you
to join us, Elizabeth.
It would be refreshing
to have someone
of the younger generation
amongst us.
And maybe you can
explain to me, Elizabeth,
why exactly the young girls
scream over Sinatra.
I don't scream over Sinatra.
No, she screams under Sinatra.
Okay, Larry!
Larry, of course,
you're welcome to come.
Oh, I'm going to try to make it,
I'm just throwing a little
soire over at my place.
I've got the Golden Gate Quartet
coming...
Well, I can't compete with Larry
in the soire department.
-I'd love to stop over.
-You would?
d*ck, you coming?
Yep, yep.
Do you have a ride?
You know what,
I can take her in a cab later.
We're going right now
if you want to come with us?
-I'd love to.
-Great.
Just let me inform my mom.
The dutiful daughter.
Wow. She is...
She is so lovely, right?
She's really striking.
Are you... Are you and she...
Oh, no, no.
I mean, I'm in love with her,
but, uh,
everybody's in love with her.
Just not that way.
Okay.
Hmm.
So we'll see you
later on tonight?
Absolutely.
Mmm-hmm.
Hmm.
Thank you for everything.
Mr. Rodgers.
Miss Weiland.
Thank you.
And we'll see you later,
Larry, right?
"With a song in my heart,
I behold your adorable face!"
You ever meet someone,
and you know instantly
that both your lives
are going to be
irretrievably altered?
Just as I suspected.
You are a sentimentalist.
When do you get off work?
I got to lock this joint up.
Ah, what about you, Knuckles,
you're done here, right?
Not yet.
Oh, 'cause I am throwing
an enormous party
at my place tonight.
I forgot to give her
the presents.
I'm having such trouble
with sleeves recently.
I have arthritis
in this shoulder.
I'm going to have to start
wearing a cloak.
I mean it. Single-handedly,
I'm going to bring back
the cloak.
You're going to see me
on opening nights with a top hat
and a cloak,
flitting through the fog
with a silver-tipped cane.
You boys are
coming tonight, right?
She's going to be there.
I'm telling you, she will.
She'll arrive late.
And get this,
'cause this
is the remarkable part,
sometime late,
maybe around 5:00 a.m.,
after a little too much Malbec,
she's going to turn to me
and say,
"Hey, Larry,
what are you reading?
"Hey, Larry,
when's your birthday?"
For the first time in her life,
she's going to be
interested in me.
It has to happen sometime,
right?
All the other guys
have disappointed her.
But I never will. I'm just...
a little touch of Larry
in the night.
Knuckles. Some travelin' music.
Blue moon
You saw me standing alone
Wise guy.
Without a dream in my heart
Without a love of my own
Well, it's a helluva lot better
than The Surrey With
the f*cking Fringe On Top.
Larry, you coming uptown
to d*ck's with us?
Oh, no, you go on ahead,
I'll be up there later.
You knew just
What I was there for
You heard me
saying a prayer for
Someone I really
could care for
That's not bad.
Triple feminine rhymes,
and they all make sense.
And then suddenly
You appeared before me
The only one my arms
Will ever hold
And I heard
somebody whisper
Please adore me
And when I looked
The moon had turned to gold
Blue moon
Larry, I think this
is the beginning
of a beautiful friendship.
"Isn't it romantic?"
Not really, no.
You know, it wasn't even
supposed to be
called Blue Moon.
I called it The Bad
in Every Man.
We wrote it for this movie,
Manhattan Melodrama.
Jack Robbins,
formerly "Rabinowitz,"
he had his name circumcised
over at MGM,
he hears the song,
he calls us into his office,
he lowers his pastrami, says...
"d*ck, I love the melody.
"Strong as anything
you've ever written.
"But Larry, those words,
they're too artsy-fartsy!
"They're not too
artsy-fartsy for me.
"I know how brilliant
you guys are.
"But you have to write
for the schmucks in the dark.
"Nobody's going
to sing that lyric."
So I said,
"What's wrong with it?"
He said...
"I can't even
"remember the f*cking title!
"Boys, give me
something I can promote."
So I say,
"What do you want me
to call it?"
Blue Moon?
Punchline, biggest hit
we ever wrote.
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Blue Moon (2025)
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Biographies Movie Collection