“Nobody ever loved me that much”, declares Lorenz Hart, played by Ethan Hawke, as the best line in Casablanca, an opinion equally shared in unison by his bartender Eddie. When Lorenz exits the opening night performance of Oklahoma!, the soon-to-be musical phenomenon by his former writing partner Richard Rodgers (Andrew Scott) and Rodgers’ new collaborator Oscar Hammerstein II (Simon Delaney), he is immediately aware it is Rodgers’ crowning achievement by the rapturous response around him, anticipating Rodgers to be drowned in love and praise. He fully admits his bitterness to Eddie, envious of Rodgers’ glowing success without him while criticizing the quality of Oklahoma! (or as he calls it “Okla-homo!”). It’s clear that Hart wants that same appreciation and adoration, but it’s unclear if he’d even know what to do with it. A short-statured, pretentious, possibly-homosexual chatterbox in his mid-40s with a thousand stories and a million opinions, Hart fits right at home at Sardee’s, a bar filled with history where he can point to a picture on the wall and talk at novel’s length about it. The people in his life, while putting up with his brash attitude and vulgar language, remain enamored by him, seeing through him like cellophane, but letting him give this social performance. We spend 100 minutes trapped in his orbit and by the time the film reaches its bittersweet end, we could spend 100 more.

Richard Linklater delivers his first of two features this year (the second Nouvelle Vague releasing by Netflix this fall) and while the script is not written by him (Robert Kaplow is the screenwriter), it is a perfect fit for him. While Linklater hasn’t done much in the subject of theatre outside Me and Orson Welles, the structure of this is purely conversational from beginning to end. A mostly one-setting play-like depiction of Hart’s struggles as he comes to term with the fall of his career contrasted with the success of his equal. He only comes for one shot of liquor, or so he says, but as he rotates from seat to seat, engaging with the likes of the bar pianist Morty Rifkin (Jonah Lees), the flower delivery man Troy (Giles Surridge), author E.B. White (played by Patrick Kennedy, who is struggling to find the plot for his upcoming children’s book), and his 20-year old muse and protege Elizabeth Weiland (a luminous Margaret Qualley). Hart is at his most honest during these moments, knowing if he’s going to get his frustrations out, he better do it before Rodgers and Hammerstein arrive and the place turns into a jolly zoo, at which point, he will fake a tremendously enthusiastic attitude.

Relying entirely on conversation, the results are magnificently engaging. Its winking nods to history somehow avoid being annoyingly cheeky (such as one of Hart’s rambling stories being what breaks E.B. White’s writer’s block or a soon-to-be-ultra-famous theatre face appearing as Hammerstein’s child apprentice) because it’s all wrapped up in such delectably spoken dialogue. It’s the type of film you could enjoy with your eyes closed, although you’d miss how beautifully Linklater’s camera captures the cozy, warmly-lit interior of Sardees’. To be immersed in it is to become the guest Hart shares his stories with. For its entirety, you meet Hart as well as any one sitting across the bar from him would, and while the format of the piece is fittingly theatrical, it is perhaps the most honest way you could portray him. While Hart is far more interested in the lives of others, desperate to learn about Elizabeth’s intimate romantic encounters, he is mostly an open book about himself.

On the topic of his sexuality, he tells Eddie he is “ambisexual”, though his definition is more more a filthy punchline than a truthful explanation. His obsession with Elizabeth, a woman he intends on marrying, is laid on thick. Not even he can explain what attracts her to him. Perhaps he wants to be with her, perhaps he wants to be her, but most likely, he is just desperate to have a partner at all. He sees the talent flowing through her and envisions only the brightest future for himself as long as she’s apart of it.

While Andrew Scott won the Silver Berlin Bear at the Berlin International Film Festival for his supporting performance, his work here as Rodgers is impressively calm and collected, straddling the careful line between friend and work partner of Hart’s, earnestly wanting Hart’s talent to be apart of his future work while also keeping a respectable distance to him as a person.

Ethan Hawke is flawless. Captivating from the first line of dialogue to the last as he takes you on a momentously flirty, nasty, painful, hilarious, and spellbinding journey through Hart’s mind and mouth. He carries the entire film, responsible for 95% of the film’s spoken words. Yet through his high-volume energy never disguises his confused pain and yearning. Begging for respect and love from the people around him, without realizing he really needs it from himself. In fact, it’s too bad Hart isn’t alive to see how much this film loves him, warts and all, but perhaps he would scoff and say it was too sentimental. Sure, Larry. Here’s looking at you, kid.