Ethan Hawke will almost certainly earn a Best Actor nomination for his fearless portrayal of Lorenz Hart, the brilliant but tormented lyricist who, with Richard Rodgers, helped invent the American songbook. The film unfolds on a pivotal night in musical theater history: the Broadway opening of “Oklahoma!,” the first show in which Rodgers (Andrew Scott) partners with a new lyricist, Oscar Hammerstein (Simon Delaney). The entire story is set in Sardi’s, the legendary Broadway haunt where industry insiders gather to await the critics’ verdicts.

Richard Linklater took a bold artistic gamble in directing a film in which “nothing happens.” The garrulous, newly sober Hart is riveting, self-pitying, and deeply human. Linklater surely knew this premise might limit the film’s reach. But Robert Kaplow’s rich, incisive screenplay gives the story a universal pull. Themes of loneliness, thwarted ambition, and self-deception resonate. Anyone who has tried to save face, pursue an unattainable lover, or stay sober will recognize themselves in Hart.

Throughout the night, Hart converses with—often talking at—the bartender (Bobby Cannavale), the taciturn author E.B. White (Patrick Kennedy), future director George Roy Hill (David Rawle), and even 12-year-old Stevie Sondheim (Cillian Sullivan). American arts aficionados will relish the film’s implausible Easter eggs: that Hart may have “given” E.B. White the name Stuart Little, and nudged Hill toward the buddy-film genre (“Butch Cassidy,” “The Sting”) by advising him to focus on friendship, not romance.

At its core, the film is about Hart’s two great loves: Elizabeth Weiland (Margaret Qualley) and Richard Rodgers. Rodgers is moving on without him, while Weiland will inevitably break his heart. For nearly 25 years, Rodgers and Hart collaborated on 28 musicals and more than 500 songs—among them “My Funny Valentine,” “Bewitched, Bothered and Bewildered,” and “Blue Moon.”

Their music and lyrics are so seamlessly intertwined that it’s hard to imagine a world before they existed. But by 1943, with World War II reshaping American sensibilities, Rodgers believes audiences want warmth over Hart’s signature acid wit. The charged scenes in which Rodgers offers Hart a lifeline—five new songs to revive “Connecticut Yankee”—earned Andrew Scott the Silver Bear for Best Supporting Actor in Berlin.

Yet it is Margaret Qualley who lingers in the mind long after the credits roll. A star in full ascent, Qualley brings a thrilling presence to Elizabeth Weiland. Her scenes with Hawke—she, tall, luminous, and decades younger; he, short, balding, brilliant, and besotted—evoke a “Beauty and the Beast”-like dynamic.

Hart is her mentor, her admirer, her emotional supplicant, despite his attraction to men. Her vivid recounting of an affair with a younger, indifferent lover leaves Hart hanging on every word. Is he a voyeur?  Imagining the man as his lover? Or longing to be loved by her?

This relationship was the spark for the screenwriter: years ago, screenwriter Kaplow acquired carbon copies of letters from Elizabeth Weiland to Lorenz Hart. While Qualley’s character is fictionalized, the correspondence is authentic. Kaplow builds an entire emotional universe from those fragments—and honors both correspondents in the process. We, the audience, are richer for it.