movie star

Many actors talk about process but Ethan Hawke has made the act of creation central to his work. He’s played musicians and writers and when he’s gone behind the camera, he’s focused on the stories of composers, novelists, movie stars and country singers both famous and forgotten. Sometimes, it feels like he’s the unofficial patron saint of art suffering, fixated on the glory and anguish of putting yourself out there in the world.

So Hawke’s portrayal of Lorenz Hart, the brilliant but troubled lyricist responsible for beloved tunes like “My Funny Valentine,” in a story set shortly before his death would seem to be just the latest chapter of a lifelong obsession. But “Blue Moon,” Hawke’s ninth collaboration with director Richard Linklater, cuts deeper than any of his previous explorations. Imagining Hart on the night of his former collaborator Richard Rodgers’ greatest triumph — the launch of “Oklahoma!” — Linklater offers a wistful look at a songwriter past his prime. But the film wouldn’t resonate as powerfully without Hawke’s nakedly vulnerable portrayal.

It is March 31, 1943, eight months before Hart’s death at age 48 from pneumonia, and Hart has just gruffly left the Broadway premiere of “Oklahoma!” Arriving early at Sardi’s for the after-party, he plants himself at the bar, complaining to bartender Eddie (Bobby Cannavale) that the show will be a massive success — and that it’s garbage. Eddie nods in a way that suggests he’s often lent a sympathetic ear to Hart’s rantings, allowing him to unload about the show’s supposedly banal lyrics and corn-pone premise and, worst of all, the fact that Rodgers will have his biggest smash the moment he stops working with Hart after nearly 25 years. “This is not jealousy speaking,” Hart insists, fooling no one.

As played by Hawke, Hart adores holding court, entertaining his captive audience with witty put-downs and gossipy Broadway anecdotes. Begging Eddie not to serve him because of his drinking problem, which contributed to the dissolution of his partnership with Rodgers, this impudent carouser would be too much to stand if he also wasn’t such fun company. But eventually, Rodgers (Andrew Scott) and his new lyricist Oscar Hammerstein II (Simon Delaney) are going to walk through that door and Hart will have to swallow his pride and pretend to be happy for them. From one perspective, “Blue Moon” is about the beginning of “Oklahoma!” as a pillar of American theater. From another, it’s Hart’s funeral.

Set almost exclusively inside Sardi’s, “Blue Moon” has the intimacy of a one-man stage show. After Hart vents about “Oklahoma!,” he readies himself for the arrival of Elizabeth (Margaret Qualley), a gorgeous Yale undergrad he considers his protégée. (He also claims to be in love with her, which baffles Eddie, who rightly assumed otherwise.) If the universal acclaim of “Oklahoma!” will force Hart to confront his professional irrelevance, maybe Elizabeth’s beaming presence — and the promise of them consummating their feelings — will be sufficient compensation.

Linklater, the man behind “School of Rock” and “Me and Orson Welles,” has made several films about creativity. (In a few weeks, he’ll debut another movie, “Nouvelle Vague,” which focuses on the making of Jean-Luc Godard’s epochal “Breathless.”) But what distinguishes “Blue Moon” is that, for once, it’s about someone else’s achievement — not the main character. Fearing he’s a has-been, the diminutive, balding Hart slowly succumbs to self-loathing. He can still spitefully quote the negative reviews for his 1940 musical “Pal Joey.” And he nurses a paranoid pet theory that Rodgers decided to collaborate with Hammerstein because he’s so much taller than Hart. (“Blue Moon” incorporates old-fashioned camera tricks to help Hawke resemble Hart’s under-five-feet frame.) Linklater’s movies have frequently featured affable underdogs, but by contrast, “Blue Moon” is an elegy to a bitter, insecure man whose view of himself as a failure has become a self-fulfilling prophecy.

Of the many artists Hawke has honored on screen, he has never depicted one so touchingly diminished — someone so consumed with envy who nonetheless cannot lie to himself about the beauty of the art around him. Turning 55 next month, Hawke shares with Hart an effusive passion for indelible work but also, perhaps, a nagging anxiety about the end of his creative usefulness. If he were younger, Hawke would have come across as self-regarding. Here, there’s only a poignantly egoless transparency, exposing the lyricist’s personal flaws — his drunkenness, his arrogance — while capturing the fragile soulfulness that made those Rodgers and Hart tunes sing.

Apropos of his relaxed approach, Linklater shoots “Blue Moon” with a minimum of fuss, but one can feel its enveloping melancholy, especially once the next generation of artists poke their head into the narrative. (Sondheim diehards will instantly identify the brash young composer identified only as “Stevie.”) But neither Linklater nor Hawke is sentimental about that changing of the guard.

That’s why Hawke breaks your heart. All of us are here for just a short time: We make our mark and then the ocean comes and washes it away. In an often remarkable career, Hawke has never embraced that truth so completely as he does here. Ultimately, maybe the work artists leave behind isn’t their most important contribution — maybe it’s the love they had for artistry itself, a passion that will inspire after they’re gone. That’s true of Lorenz Hart, and it will hopefully prove true of Hawke and this understated but profound film for years to come.

The lead of the horror-tinged heart-tugger “Good Boy” is a copper-colored retriever named Indy who pads around an eerie house deep in the New Jersey woods investigating its mysterious creaks, shadows and smells. Like the Method-style actors of “The Blair Witch Project,” he goes by his real name onscreen. An ordinary dog without a whiff of Hollywood hokum, Indy doesn’t do implausible stunts like Lassie or Rin Tin Tin or comprehend anything that his owner, Todd (Shane Jensen), says besides simple phrases: sit, stay and, gratefully, the title itself. But we’re invested in the mindset of this mundane hero. His nose twitches are as dramatic as an ingenue’s gasp.

First-time feature director Ben Leonberg raised Indy as a pet first, movie star second. Along with his wife, Kari Fischer, who produced the film, Leonberg shot “Good Boy” in his weekend house, staging scenarios for Indy to explore until he had enough material for a (barely) full-length spook show. Even at 72 minutes, “Good Boy” is belabored in the middle stretch. It would make a fabulous one-hour TV special.

Using his personal footage, Leonberg (who also edited the film and did its gorgeous, inky-wet cinematography) opens with a montage of Indy growing up from a tiny puppy to a loyal best friend. We love the dog more in five minutes than we do some slasher final girls who’ve survived several sequels. Indy is the most empathetic scream queen of the year so far — and I mean that literally as his breed, a Nova Scotia Duck Tolling retriever, is known for its high-pitched wail. American Kennel Club lists the Toller as the U.S.’s 87th most popular dog. I expect this movie will lead to an uptick. (Steve Martin already has one.)

What’s wrong in Indy’s new home? A pair of tragedies wind together like vines, although from the dog’s point of view, the distinction between them isn’t always obvious. This battered two-story home with ominous scratches on the basement door has been in Todd’s family for six generations, as the cemetery out back proves. Bequeathed to the youngish urban hipster by his grandfather (indie cult icon Larry Fessenden), a misanthrope who willed his taxidermy collection to a vegan, it’s a good place to disappear.

Todd, who’s in bad physical and emotional shape, has isolated himself in this scraggly, foggy forest to get some privacy from his sister, Vera (Arielle Friedman). There’s also a past death that the dog is able to perceive. A sniff of a rotting old chair frightens Indy so much, he wets the rug.

“Scaredy pants,” Todd teases Indy. The dog can’t explain what only he knows.

Several unnerving things are happening at once, including the presence of a silhouetted stalker, old bones that give the dog nightmares and Todd’s unpredictable mood swings. There’s also a ghost in the movie, I think — at least, there’s a heavy hinge that shouldn’t be able to open without a spectral nudge. Indy stands about two feet tall, so the camera often stays at that height too, gliding close to the floor where the view from under the bed looks as big as an airplane hangar.

A realistic dog’s-eye view of a creepy cabin is a good hook, although people hoping to see an otherwise satisfying genre thriller will feel a bit underwhelmed that Leonberg and his co-screenwriter Alex Cannon are conflicted about pushing the scary elements of the film too far into the supernatural. With a complicated backstory off the table (Indy looks restless whenever adults are having a conversation), the movie taps into our burgeoning belief that animals do have a special sixth sense, like how hospice workers know to pay special attention to whoever gets night visits from the resident pet.

Still, “Good Boy” doesn’t stray too far from the film’s core strength: a normal dog doing normal dog things. In a twitch, a head tilt or a whine, Indy communicates his emotions: curious, lonely, contented, confused, fretful, desperate or petrified. There’s no CG in the dog’s performance, no corny reaction shots and no use of animal doubles either. Todd’s own legs, however, are often doubled by Leonberg, an onscreen switcheroo that’s possible because the lens doesn’t tend to look up.

I liked the plot better on a second watch when I knew not to expect Jamie Lee Curtis on all fours. The ending is great and the build up to it, though draggy, gives you space to think about the interdependence between our species. Dogs are wired to be our protectors and yet, through generations of nurturing, they’ve come to trust that we’ll also protect them. The inarticulate betrayal in the film is that Todd isn’t making good decisions for anyone. His bond with Indy is pure and strong, yet one-sided in that Todd is too distracted to ease the dog’s fears. Indy is bereft to be left alone for long stretches of time in a strange house. But he can’t do a thing about that, nor the sputtering electricity, the fox traps in the brush and the neighbor (Stuart Rudin) who skulks around in hunting camouflage.

In Todd’s facelessness, he’s a stand-in for whatever you want: absentee parents, a struggling partner or child or friend. There’s a scene in which he comes home in obvious need of a cuddle, only to push his dog away. Maybe you’ve been both people in that shot: the person overwhelmed by their own pain and the loved one who has no idea how to soothe them. It’s terrifying to love someone this much, to give them the full force of your devotion only to get locked outside.

Consciously or not, Leonberg has made a primal film about helplessness. Watching it, I was knocked sideways by a sense memory of how it felt to be a child. Like Indy, kids get dragged around to places they don’t want to go to for reasons that aren’t explained, and when they whine, they’re commanded to pipe down. Even as we get older — when our own point of view can stand taller than two feet — the things that truly scare us are the ones that make us feel small and confused.

The TV industry and buyers of commercial time were able to breathe a little easier going to their annual week of presentations known as the upfronts.

Not long before the curtain went up Monday at Radio City Music Hall for NBCUniversal’s event, President Trump announced he would hold off on tariffs on China, easing some of the economic uncertainty going into the selling season for television networks.

But the messaging from media executives throughout the week acknowledged that advertisers will be under pressure to get more from their marketing dollars. Between performances by Lizzo, Lady Gaga and the Dallas Cowboys Cheerleaders, ad buyers heard about the new artificial intelligence-powered tools for targeting specific audiences.

While traditional TV still commands the bulk of U.S. advertising spending, advertisers’ increasing comfort with streaming was apparent.

Seven years ago, YouTube executives had to reassure sponsors that the company would work harder to keep their ads from running in user-created videos that pushed conspiracy theories or hate speech.

But at the Google-owned platform‘s gathering at Lincoln Center on Wednesday, the audience saw a glowing testimonial video from Marc Pritchard, chief branding officer for Procter & Gamble, a company known for being meticulous about its marketing and media decisions.

Netflix and Amazon marched into the week buoyed by the growing number of streaming subscribers who see ads. Netflix said its service carrying commercials now reaches 90 million subscribers worldwide while Amazon’s Prime Video is now at 130 million in the U.S.

The week of parties and parade of celebrities offered a glimpse into the current state of the TV business. Here’s what stood out:

Live sports rule, especially the NFL

Walt Disney Co.’s TV lineup is packed with big-name talent. But the company kicked off its upfront with an opening number by an unlikely singing duo — former NFL quarterbacks Eli and Peyton Manning.

The audience at North Javits in Manhattan saw two more NFL stars, Kansas City Chiefs quarterback Patrick Mahomes and Philadelphia Eagles running back Saquon Barkley, before a single actor appeared on stage. It was a sign of the NFL’s vital importance to the company and the TV business writ large.

Disney — where not too long ago Chief Executive Bob Iger mused about spinning off ESPN — wasn’t alone in touting its commitment to the league.

NFL Commissioner Roger Goodell did a walk-on at the YouTube presentation to announce the platform’s first exclusive livestream of a league game, the Los Angeles Chargers season opener against the Chiefs in Brazil on Sept. 5.

Roger Goodell speaks onstage during Netflix’s Upfront 2025 on Wednesday in New York.

(Roy Rochlin / Getty Images for Netflix)

On the Netflix stage, Goodell was joined by Cowboys owner Jerry Jones to plug a documentary series on the franchise and announce this year’s two Christmas games that will be carried on the platform.

Jason and Travis Kelce promoted their Wondery podcast at Amazon’s show. Former tight end Rob Gronkowski showed up at two upfront presentations, one for Fox where he is part of the network’s NFL coverage and later at YouTube because, well, why not?

NFL games accounted for 95 out of the top 100 most-watched TV programs last year and is now setting records on streaming. Netflix had its most watched Christmas Day in history when 65 million U.S. viewers streamed some portion of its NFL double header. (Goodell wore a Santa Claus suit for his announcement of this year’s Netflix games).

For TV industry veterans, the emphasis on live sports was surprising. “Traditionally entertainment was the driver of the upfront,” Ben Silverman, co-CEO of production company Propagate, told CNBC.

Or as ABC late night host Jimmy Kimmel put it during his annual Disney upfront roast: “This is all sports. What happened? We used to be so gay.”

But as the audience continues to be atomized by the growing number of streaming options, sports are more valuable than ever for advertisers who want to reach a mass audience.

Executives at Netflix, long on the leading edge of providing niche offerings to fit every consumer’s taste, now extol the virtues of the mass audience viewing experience now that it carries NFL games.

Live sports have become a lifeline to traditional TV, as most young viewers have turned to streaming for scripted series and movies. The trend was reflected in NBCUniversal’s presentation, which emphasized the arrival of the NBA on the network that will cost $2.5 billion a year.

“Tonight” host Jimmy Fallon may have summed it up best when he said, “Good morning, I’m glad to be at the NBA upfront — I mean NBC upfront.”

Planning for life after cable

Warner Bros. Discovery stunned the crowd at the Theater at Madison Square Garden with the announcement that its streaming service Max will once again be called HBO Max. The company stripped HBO from the name in 2023, believing the HBO brand name was too exclusive for the service’s ambitions to broaden its audience.

Dropping the prestigious HBO logo from the name of the service was a dubious decision from the start. But restoring it was a recognition of an undeniable fact: the future belongs to streaming, so why relegate a familiar and respected brand name to the waning cable box?

CNN and ESPN announced that their direct-to-consumer streaming services rolling out later this year will use the network names that have been familiar to cable viewers for more than four decades. The monikers will not carry a plus sign or any other designation that suggest the product differs from what’s on TV, and that’s by design.

Younger viewers may be forgoing cable subscriptions, but they know the CNN and ESPN brand names through their digital content. For those viewers, streaming isn’t an add-on, it is the way they watch TV

Movies are open for ad business, too

Not so long ago, seeing a movie star on stage at a network upfront presentation was a big deal.

But streaming has blurred the line by offering both series and original movies, and media companies are using that to their advantage when pitching to advertisers. The trend has given the platforms a bit more sizzle in their pitches.

Charlize Theron speaks onstage during Netflix’s upfront presentation Wednesday in New York.

(Jamie McCarthy / Getty Images for Netflix)

Arnold Schwarzenegger riffed at length about his upcoming Christmas film for Amazon, “The Man With the Bag.” The moment got added mileage when the former California governor’s “True Lies” co-star Jamie Lee Curtis joined him on stage.

Charlize Theron took the stage at the Perelman Performing Arts Center to plug her upcoming Netflix feature “Apex.”

NBCUniversal teased the sequel to “Wicked,” which will eventually run on its Peacock streaming service.

Warner Bros. Discovery touted its sponsor partnerships for the theatrical blockbuster “A Minecraft Movie” and brought out James Gunn and Peter Safran, keepers of DC Studios, to say there will be opportunities for the upcoming Superman movie and other projects.