Tag: ethan hawke

Film by Ezekiel Yu
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A still from Paul Schrader's film "First Reformed," with Ethan Hawke as a priest standing in black and white garments, staring at the viewer, as reviewed and analyzed by poet and critic Ezekiel Yu for the automachination literary magazine.

His Barbed Vestments: Reviewing Paul Schrader’s “First Reformed” (2017)

What would happen if you crossed Ingmar Bergman’s Winter Light with Robert Bresson’s Diary of a Country Priest? What would that priest look like, if you mixed the latter’s tortured overtures toward spiritual purity with the bleak existential angst of the former?

Paul Schrader seeks to answer these hypotheticals with his First Reformed, the tale of Ernst Toller, a disillusioned, middle-aged reverend (played by Ethan Hawke) of a Continental-era Reformed church in New York who undergoes a profound and militant spiritual transformation after one of his parishioners, who is obsessed with the idea of the world’s inevitable environmental collapse, commits suicide.

I first saw this film when it came out in 2017, and found it to be far inferior to Bergman’s classic, and probably a little worse than Bresson’s, which is solid but likely not among his best. Watching it now, almost a decade later, I stand by that overall assessment, though there are positive elements I missed the first go-around, so put off was I by the writer-director’s brazen lifting of plot points from the older films. Those elements, however, are not enough to save First Reformed from its negative trajectory, as it undeniably bottoms out with a bizarre conclusion involving Hawke and co-star Amanda Seyfried deep-Frenching in the rectory while Schrader’s camera wheels around them to a rendition of the old hymnal “Leaning on the Everlasting Arms.” […]

Film by Ezekiel Yu
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A shot from Richard Linklater's "Blue Moon," showing Ethan Hawke and Margaret Qualley smiling at each other in a bar, as reviewed by poet/critic Ezekiel Yu.

Lyrics for a Lovelorn: on Richard Linklater’s “Blue Moon” (2025)

Before Rodgers and Hammerstein, there was Rodgers and Hart. Before “People Will Say We’re in Love” and “You’ll Never Walk Alone” and “Edelweiss,” there was “My Funny Valentine” and “Bewitched, Bothered and Bewildered” and, of course, “Blue Moon.” The twosome wrote hundreds of songs to wide acclaim before the relationship strained, and Richard Rodgers eventually moved on with Oscar Hammerstein II to produce that glorious run of musicals, on stage and screen. Though his contribution to the Great American Songbook is undeniable, who nowadays, apart from enthusiasts, knows the name Lorenz Hart?

A faded reputation is the fate of most artists—good luck getting Joe Schmoe to recognize even Rodgers and Hammerstein—but it’s one thing to fade, and another thing to be overshadowed. The first occurs one way or another, despite the desire to stick around; the second seems to happen in spite of that desire, and more often than not involves the backhanded adulation of a premature eulogy.

Such transience is the concern of Blue Moon (2025), Richard Linklater’s latest film about a night in the life of the lovelorn lyricist Lorenz Hart, played by Ethan Hawke. He has just come from the opening performance of Rodgers and Hammerstein’s Oklahoma! (“Oklahoma Exclamation Point,” he remarks snidely), March 1943, parking himself at the bar of storied Broadway watering hole, Sardi’s. There, he chews the fat with bartender Eddie (Bobby Cannavale), a young GI pianist and aspiring composer Morty Rifkin (Jonah Lees), and, unexpectedly sitting in the corner, the essayist/children’s writer E.B. White (Patrick Kennedy). […]

Film by Jessica Schneider
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A stylized sepia photograph of singer-songwriter Blaze Foley playing guitar, taken and edited by Will Land.

Portrait of Pathos: Reviewing Ethan Hawke’s “Blaze” (2018)

Most never wish to wallow in sadness, but for some, sadness is not only necessary but a part of their art. This applies to country musician Blaze Foley (1949-1989). Who? you are wondering. Of course you are, because I had never heard of him either before watching Ethan Hawke’s 2018 film “Blaze”, about Michael David Fuller, who went by the stage name Blaze Foley (portrayed in the film by Ben Dickey, a musician in his own right.) This isn’t to say that Johnny Cash doesn’t have his share of sad songs, mind you, but no one questions who Johnny Cash is. However, not the same can be said for Blaze Foley.

Who was this eccentric man other than an unknown outlaw country singer who frequented the dead-end, half-empty Texas bars? A minor legend—though few knew of him even among his music circles. And while it can feel encouraging to witness someone aiming for success, to continually be overlooked by his audience remained his disappointment. Granted, much of this was due to Blaze’s self-destruction, alcoholism, and his inability to control his temper in response to the heckling crowds, not to mention his stress due to his lack of finances. (Quite a different character than from someone like Rodriguez, who also went overlooked yet managed to live a long life and was a supportive father to his daughters.) This is not to say that Blaze was a bad person per se, merely someone with unending emotional needs, at least as portrayed in the film (which is based on his widow’s memoir, Living in the Woods in a Tree: Remembering Blaze Foley). […]

Film by Jessica Schneider
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Maya Hawke playing American author Flannery O'Connor, in Ethan Hawke's film, "Wildcat".

A Good Biopic Is Hard to Find: Ethan Hawke’s “Wildcat” (2023)

Upon watching Ethan Hawke’s 2023 film Wildcat, which portrays the life of Georgia-born short story writer and novelist Flannery O’Connor, I kept thinking how I have to give Hawke credit for caring enough about his subject to attempt something different. Unlike most Hollywood celebrities who let their fame and materialism drive their egos, Hawke has always had an appreciation for the arts and artists. That is, he seems to genuinely care about past writers of quality, and he has incorporated these tastes into his film career, often taking on more artistic, rather than conventional projects.

Hawke co-wrote this film with Shelby Gaines having had his daughter Maya Hawke in mind for the role. Maya is also the daughter of Uma Thurman, so if you keep thinking you’ve seen her before—that is why. (She also played Jamie Bernstein in Bradley Cooper’s Maestro.) Filled with brooding moods and blue-green lighting, Hawke creates an atmosphere of a 1950s writer’s world where his subject, O’Connor herself, remains on the outside. For those unaware, Flannery O’Connor died at the age of 39 after having spent years suffering from lupus, an autoimmune disease that often affects the joints, kidneys, and other body parts. This film does not shy away from her physical pain, as we see her having to inject hormones into her hip, using a large syringe. ‘This looks like it’s for a farm animal,’ she remarks. […]

Film by Jessica Schneider
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A stylized shot of Frank Whaley's character (Jimmy O'Brien) in Frank Whaley's "The Jimmy Show" (2001).

An Underrated Gem: On Frank Whaley’s “The Jimmy Show” (2001)

‘This isn’t funny,’ says Jimmy O’Brien (Frank Whaley) on what is presumably his last night as an open mic stand-up comic. For years, he’s been delivering his stale routine to a handful of patrons, none of whom ever laugh. And why would they? Not only is Jimmy not funny, but rather, very sour in his humor, wit, and delivery. It’s only at the film’s end that he comes to realize this. The years of occasional heckling, stone faces, and coughs in the crowd didn’t deliver the hint, but that he comes to accept this on his own is the important thing. What did it? Perhaps the fact that he’s managed to push everyone away? Something in him tells him to stop. ‘No more jokes,’ he says.

The Jimmy Show opens with Jimmy driving his dilapidated car to the Laugh In comedy club, located in suburban New Jersey. His invalid grandmother is in the passenger seat, ‘I thought we were going to get my pills,’ she says. ‘Wait here, I’ll be right back,’ Jimmy replies, as he eagerly enters and asks about open mic night. The manager is annoyed by his presence, ‘Did you get that tape I sent in?’ Jimmy asks. ‘Look, just sign your name and you get 10 minutes—it’s open mic.’ Here is perhaps the first glimpse of Jimmy’s cluelessness, as he believes that open mic night is his ‘big break,’ then only afterwards does he come to learn that his girlfriend Annie (Carla Gugino) is pregnant. (Jimmy ultimately suggests the name Wendy for the child—after Peter Pan, a reflection of this man refusing to grow up.) […]