Nobody loves wordplay more than the duo of director Richard Linklater and his male muse Ethan Hawke, except perhaps the guy they’re lionizing in their new film, stage lyricist Lorenz Hart, evoked by sharp screenwriter Robert Kaplow, whose rapier wit, poison pen and pathos echo through insular hallways inhabited by this underrated legend of internal rhymes. All nestled in the confines of a 1943 Broadway tavern, Blue Moon (B+) is both a jewel box of wistful nostalgia and a tragic murder ballad inflicted by a lonely man on himself. While lifelong friend and collaborator composer Richard Rodgers (Andrew Scott) toasts the triumph of his “Oklahoma!” opening night with collaborator Oscar Hammerstein II (Simon Delaney), Rodgers’ former lyricist Hart (Ethan Hawke) is hosting a pity party, holding court, stargazing and navel gazing through a descent into drunken self-reflection. Hart’s tumbler is both half full and half empty as he chews the Sardi’s scenery with equal parts relish and rage. Hawke’s transformation into Hart is no less than the performance of the year; the cocksure Reality Bites dude bites back at the world as a wisp of an older man, withered, weathered and worn by both a career abridged by alcoholism and the recognition he is unloved. This is a sensational showpiece with many layers including sustained nuance and transformational prosthetics. The film is a glorified stage play with a proscenium like a requiem and multiple dialogue duets, affecting and humorous soliloquies and blocking wizardry to mildly open up the story. As marvelous as Hawke is, he gets a wonderful ensemble with whom to spar: Scott is strong as a serious straight-shooter still in awe of his declining collaborator; Bobby Cannavale is a fun foil as the bartender; and Margaret Qualley is luminous as an art student stand-in for the promise of youth. Following Nouvelle Vague, Linklater has crafted another tribute to artistic life, and Hawke as Hart is a beguiling tour guide to this double-edged underworld of roleplaying. Like Hart’s popular songs, the title tune plus “Funny Valentine,” “Isn’t It Romantic?” and “Falling in Love with Love,” the film is blissfully out of step with its era and evokes bittersweet feelings more timeless than immediately recognized in one’s lifetime. Linklater and Hawke rescue and revive Hart in this sungular work which is as “Bewitched, Bothered and Bewildered” as can be.