At 54, Ethan Hawke has nothing left to prove. He has four Oscar nominations but no wins, and he’s perfectly fine keeping it that way — at least, that’s what Denzel Washington told him 24 years ago when they were both nominated for “Training Day.”
“I believe it was Denzel that said it to me when I lost,” Hawke tells the Variety Awards Circuit Podcast. “He says, ‘Don’t worry. You don’t want to win it yet. It’ll mean so much more.’ He was like, ‘You’ve got a lot of good work to do.’”
The advice proved prescient. In Richard Linklater’s biopic “Blue Moon,” Hawke delivers one of the richest, most emotionally lived-in performances of his career. The film, which imagines songwriter Lorenz Hart facing his own obsolescence on the night of the premiere of “Oklahoma!,” has already become one of the most talked-about dramedies of awards season.
The role required 12 years of patience — specifically, Linklater’s patience —as he waited for his longtime collaborator to age into the part. Over the next decade, Hawke and Linklater met periodically to read the script, refining it with screenwriter Robert Kaplow between sessions. But the real reason for the delay had nothing to do with the screenplay.
“I think largely, he was waiting for me to get older,” Hawke explains. The character required someone in his mid-40s who could embody the weariness and disappointment of Hart, who died at 48 after watching his longtime partner, Richard Rodgers, achieve new heights with a younger collaborator.
For Hart, who with Rodgers had been “basically the Lennon and McCartney of their generation,” the evening represented both celebration and obsolescence. “Larry Hart, my character, would be dead within a few months of that party,” Hawke says. “And what would that have been like for him?”
Hawke’s measured approach to his career — bouncing between indie dramas and blockbusters, writing novels, and directing documentaries — stems partly from witnessing friends struggle with early acclaim.
When asked about his own legacy — a question that comes up more frequently as tributes and retrospectives accumulate — Hawke deflects with characteristic self-awareness.
“I think it’s a dangerous way to think,” he says. “Thinking about things like legacy starts you thinking about yourself in the third person, and then it’s just, either way, you wind up vain or bitter. No good comes from that conversation.”
Hawke shares the screen with Andrew Scott, who plays Rodgers. Hawke had seen Scott perform “Hamlet” 15 years earlier and immediately recognized his talent. One particularly grueling day, Hawke and Scott worked through a seven-page scene that required them to condense 25 years of friendship into a single argument. When Hawke checked his phone after wrapping, he discovered his wife had texted him to congratulate Scott on receiving 19 Emmy nominations that morning.
“He never mentioned it,” Hawke says. “He never stopped for 10 minutes to say, ‘Hey, I’m going to call my agent.’ His phone didn’t ring. He wasn’t texting people like, ‘Yay.’ He just worked all day long — and he worked really hard. I went home that night thinking, ‘Wow, he really fits in this troupe.’”
“Blue Moon” arrives via Sony Pictures Classics, one of the few distributors still championing mid-budget adult dramas in an algorithm-driven landscape. On this episode of the Variety Awards Circuit Podcast, Ethan Hawke sits down to discuss his transformative performance in “Blue Moon,” opens up about legacy, loss, and why Denzel Washington once told him that losing was the best thing that could happen at the Oscars.
Also on this episode, “Frankenstein” star Oscar Isaac talks about working with Guillermo del Toro for 105 days, and why he now only chooses projects based on people, not scripts. Listen below!
Courtesy of Sony Pictures Classics
Read excerpts from his interview below, which has been edited and condensed for clarity.
Let’s start with “Before the Devil Knows You’re Dead.” It was Sidney Lumet’s last film. What was that experience like?
Can we start by talking about “Before the Devil Knows You’re Dead”? Because I feel so lucky that it was Sidney Lumet’s last film. He was 83 years old, and I’ve always thought that if that exact same film had been made by a 27-year-old, everyone would have talked about it. Critics and journalists would have said, “Who is this new voice?” because it’s blistering, tough, and completely unsentimental. It’s like a Greek opera — two brothers who kill their mother. It’s so hardcore.
The blessing of that project was the experience itself. I complained about it constantly at the time because it was extremely hard, but I learned so much from him — especially during the press tour. Doing interviews with him was more educational than making the film. On set, he was like a football coach — tough love, real “dad energy.” You don’t always know why he’s saying what he’s saying until later.
Talk about why you decided to say yes to “Blue Moon.”
Well, Linklater — that’s the main reason. But also, I don’t think any other director would have thought of me for that part. It says a lot about our friendship that he knew this character was in me. He curated that performance.
He gave me that script 12 years ago. We did a reading at my house, and I said, “I love this, let’s do it.” He said, “Not yet.” We waited about 18 months, then went through a few rounds of revisions. Robert, who wrote the screenplay, is a professor — a brilliant guy, but writing isn’t his day job. He’d send us a new draft every so often, and we’d do another reading. We did that maybe three or four times over the next seven or eight years. Finally, Rick felt we were ready.
I think he was waiting for me to get older. Most directors won’t wait for an actor for two weeks — they’ll just find someone else. But Rick waited over a decade. That says everything about who he is.
Does working on a film like this force you to reflect on your own legacy and what you’ve contributed to the art form?
I think it’s a dangerous way to think. I’m reaching an age where people make me think about it — like when you go to Telluride Film Festival and they show a clip reel of your life’s work. It’s a strange feeling. I’ve felt like a cat my whole life — just getting dropped off buildings, trying to land on my feet, trying to stay alive and keep a career. I feel so grateful to still be doing it — and even more to still love it.
They did a 10th anniversary screening of “Before the Devil Knows You’re Dead” a few years ago, and it was so sad not to be there with Phil or Sidney. To still be here — that’s the gift. But thinking about legacy makes you start seeing yourself in the third person. You either wind up vain or bitter. No good comes from that.
You can think, “Wow, I’m doing great,” or you can think, “John Lennon died at 40, and he did all that — I’m 15 years older, what am I doing with my life?” Either way, it’s not healthy. But going back to “Blue Moon,” I’m grateful for Rick’s patience. I think he saw what the next 10 years of my life were going to bring, even though I didn’t.
You’ve been making a transition to more character work. How does “Blue Moon” fit into that evolution?
The last 10 years have been a slow transition into more character acting. When I was younger, I was playing variations on a theme in every performance. That changed when I played John Brown, and even before that with Chet Baker in “Born to Be Blue,” as well as in smaller films like “Maudie” and “The Magnificent Seven.” Those were steps toward doing what people call character work.
This performance let me do that kind of work in a leading role, which was exciting.
You’ve worn many different hats in your career. Was that intentional?
You can’t plan that — it’s just my personality. When I was younger, I got in trouble for it. I’m one of those people who runs before he walks. I started writing before I knew how to write or had any real right to do it, but I loved it. I was worried about the longevity of an actor’s life — I saw so many people fade out — so I wanted other passions.
It’s helped me stay curious. I’ve made documentaries, written graphic novels and songs — something about that keeps me in touch with the person I was when I started acting. You want to hold on to that childlike love of the craft. The first time you go to a film festival, it feels magical. The fifth time, you’re complaining about the hotel. So you have to keep reconnecting with that younger self who saw it all as magic.
For me, doing different things keeps me thinking like a kid, like a student. And that feeds back into acting. Even on “Blue Moon,” I asked myself, “What if this were my first role?”
What was it like working with Andrew Scott?
We do some sparring in the film. I saw him do “Hamlet” about 15 years ago, and I remember saving the program and writing his name down in my journal because I thought, “This guy is amazing.” I didn’t know who he was — I might’ve just had a few hours to kill that day — but I’ve followed his career ever since.
He was perfect for Rodgers. The character had to walk into a room with charisma, intelligence and the swagger of one of the greatest musicians of all time. He also had to be younger than me and able to work the way Rick does.
Rick is so much like Sidney Lumet in that he cannot not rehearse. He doesn’t see rehearsal as getting ready to make the movie — it is the movie. He asked for five weeks of rehearsal, and some actors were like, “I only have five scenes, do I really need to come?” But for Rick, that’s non-negotiable. It’s where creativity happens.
Andrew loved that process. He’s a creature of the theater. We had these long, 12-page scenes — those aren’t hard for him. He’d just finished doing a one-man Chekhov show. The guy can do anything. He was a natural fit in our band.
Can you tell us about that particularly grueling day of shooting?
We had this huge seven-page scene, just the two of us. We were walking up and down a stairwell, fighting and crying, trying to put a 25-year friendship into one scene. It was hard — figuring out the rhythm, the pauses, the anger, the music of it all.
At the end of the day, I checked my phone — I leave it in my dressing room when I’m shooting — and my wife had texted me, “Make sure you congratulate Andrew.” I asked, “For what?” He’d just gotten 19 Emmy nominations. I went to his dressing room and said, “Hey, congratulations.” He just said, “Thanks.” That was it. He never mentioned it, never stopped working, never picked up his phone. I went home thinking, “Wow, he really fits in this troupe.”
What are your thoughts on Sony Pictures Classics and the state of adult cinema?
Michael Barker and Tom Bernard at Sony Pictures Classics — their commitment is staggering. If you know them, you know how hard it is. For every “Crouching Tiger, Hidden Dragon” they release, they’re making dangerous bets all the time.
I never get mad at studio executives. I understand that they can be fired if the movie doesn’t make money. We have different definitions of success. For me, success is longevity. The biggest award I could ever get was seeing a full-page spread on the 25th anniversary of “Before Sunrise” in The New York Times. Nobody cared that much when it came out. Now people still talk about it.
That’s the reward — not the paycheck, but the legacy of the work. Guys like Michael and Tom keep fighting for that.
Barker and Bernard seem to really care about the art form.
I was in a car with Michael [Barker] the other day, and he was nerding out about a couple of shots that were wrong in a movie I did six years ago. I just thought, “Wow, this guy really cares.”
He bought “Slacker” all those years ago, and here I am 30 years later with another Linklater movie. His commitment to finding new voices and championing filmmakers from all over the world is rare. If all you give people is hamburgers, they’ll eat hamburgers — and that’s fine; hamburgers are good — but if you offer them something else, they’ll discover they like that too. If you don’t make “One Flew Over the Cuckoo’s Nest” available, how will people ever know how great it is?
Let’s go back to 2001 when you got your first Oscar nomination for “Training Day.” Do you remember that day?
Are you kidding? Of course. The world was a little different then. I didn’t even know nominations were coming out that morning. I took my 4-year-old daughter, Maya [Hawke], to preschool. Her teacher, Odette, came up to me with tears in her eyes and said, “You’ve been nominated for an Oscar.”
I wasn’t sure I believed her. I went home and saw it on CNN. It was surreal. I had a dentist appointment that morning — and if you know me, you know I don’t go to the dentist much — and I used it as an excuse to skip it. Then Denzel called and said, “You know why I’m so happy you were nominated? If you got nominated, it means people saw the movie. And if people saw the movie, I’m going to win.”
What did Denzel tell you after you lost that night?
I believe it was Denzel who said to me, “Don’t worry, you don’t want to win it yet. It’ll mean so much more later.” He was right.
Philip Seymour Hoffman used to say the two hardest things in our line of work are failure and success. Failure can destroy you, but success can be just as tough. Phil was the first of my generation to win an Oscar, and he absolutely deserved it. Watching one of your contemporaries become a fully mature artist — it’s inspiring, but it also shows how fame and praise can affect your self-esteem and ego. It’s why success can be so hard for young people — it can kill your drive early on.
It’s been 12 years since “Before Midnight” (2013). Is there another “Before” movie in the future?
The answer I usually give is that the three films feel complete. The first one begins with us on a train listening to a couple in their mid-40s fighting, and in the third one, we’ve become that couple. The circle feels complete.
If we were to do another, it might not be a “Before” film. It could be something new — maybe the “After” series. But part of what made those movies special is that Julie, Rick, and I were always in sync about what we wanted to say. That could happen again one day — it might start with one phone call or an email. But we don’t want to outlive our fan base.
What are your thoughts on AI actors like Tilly Norwood?
This is what we’re all living through — the fear of automation in every field. It’s an existential crisis. We’re slowly ceding our humanity in the name of efficiency.
I have this huge painting in my house that my daughter’s kindergarten class made of Sun Ra. It’s beautiful. A computer could make a “better” version of it — more accurate, more efficient — but it wouldn’t have been made by people I know, with love and time and imperfection.
When someone writes a song or paints something, we witness their humanity. This obsession with efficiency and greed — that’s what’s driving AI. Pretty soon, we’ll see a new movie starring James Dean, but it won’t mean anything.
Part of the joy of art is connection — the desire to communicate, to share time and emotion with another human being. Art isn’t about perfection. It’s about the messy, flawed, beautiful process of making something real.
Robin Williams’ daughter recently asked people to stop sending her AI videos of her late father. What’s your reaction to that?
I think you just said it all.
You worked with Robin Williams on “Dead Poets Society.” What does it mean to you that people still connect with that film?
It means everything. What we love about that movie — and movies in general — is the scratchy, sweaty stuff of real people. We like to see the hard work. That’s what connects us.
Do you have a role in Linklater’s next multi-year shooting venture, “Merrily We Roll Along?”
No. I keep thinking he’s going to call me, but no, I’m not…yet?
Variety’s “Awards Circuit” podcast, hosted by Clayton Davis, Jazz Tangcay, Emily Longeretta, Jenelle Riley and Michael Schneider, who also produces, is your one-stop source for lively conversations about the best in film and television. Each episode, “Awards Circuit” features interviews with top film and TV talent and creatives, discussions and debates about awards races and industry headlines, and much more. Subscribe via Apple Podcasts, Stitcher, Spotify or anywhere you download podcasts.
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