Fresh Air - Ethan Hawke

Episode Date: February 2, 2026

"Every now and then you bump up against a part that presses you to the wall of your ability," Hawke says of playing lyricist Lorenz Hart in ‘Blue Moon.’ He’s nominated for an Oscar for his performance. Hawke spoke with Terry Gross about collaborating with Richard Linklater, losing his friend River Phoenix, and his thoughts on aging. Learn more about sponsor message choices: podcastchoices.com/adchoicesNPR Privacy Policy

This year's Grammys featured historic wins for Bad Bunny and Kendrick Lamar, lavish performances, and occasional chaos. And it was a night of speeches that reflected this moment in America. Listen to a recap on pop culture happy hour in the NPR app or wherever you get your podcasts. This is fresh air. I'm Terry Gross. My guest, Ethan Hawke, has just been nominated for a Best Actor Oscar for his starring role playing lyricist Lorenz Hart in the movie Blue Moon. It's his fifth nomination. The others were for supporting actor and for adapted screenplays.

Hawk had other roles in 2025. He starred in the horror film Black Phone 2 as a serial killer who haunts people's dreams. And he started in the FX series The Lowdown, a loving but humorous take on film noir, created by Sterling Harjo, who also directed Hawk in an episode of the popular series Reservation Dogs. The Lowdown has been renewed for a second season. I spoke with Ethan Hawk in November. He had also just completed a new documentary called Highway 99, a double album,

about country music star, songwriter, singer, and guitarist Merle Haggard. That film is expected to be released sometime this year. Hawk was in his early teens when he made his first film Explorers, co-starring River Phoenix, who was about the same age. Hawk was in his late teens when he co-starred in Dead Poet Society, which starred Robin Williams. Hawke seems to have done it all, a child star who survived the experience intact, an Oscar and Tony nominated actor, a documentary filmmaker, and a novelist. Let's start with a clip from Blue Moon, directed by Richard Linklater.

It's set on the night of the opening of Oklahoma, the first musical that Hart's longtime songwriting partner Richard Rogers wrote with another lyricist, Oscar Hammerstein. There's an after-party at Sardis, where theater people would go on opening night and wait until the reviews came out. Rogers had moved on because Hart had been drinking too much and was no longer a reliable partner. In this scene, Rogers talks with Hart at the party. Hart's trying to convince Rogers to collaborate on a satirical musical about Marco Polo. Rogers is played by Andrew Scott, Ethan Hawke as Hart speaks first.

I mean, Marco Polo's going to be a show about joy, but a hard-earned joy, an unsentimental joy. Something wrong with sentimental? What, it's too easy? Oklahoma's too easy? The guy actually getting the girl in the end is too easy? You've just eliminated every successful musical comedy ever written, Larry. It's too easy for me. Did you hear the audience tonight?

Yes. 1600 people didn't think it was too easy. You tell me 1600 people were wrong? I'm just saying, and I can do something so much more emotionally complicated. We don't have to pander to what... Oh, I was going to hear, pandering? No, I didn't say that. Irving Berlin is pandering?

I love Berlin. White Christmas is pandering? Well, I don't believe white Christmas. Okay. Well, maybe audiences have changed. Well, they still want to laugh. They want to laugh, but not in that way. In what way?

In your way. They want to laugh, but they also want to cry a little. They want to feel. Ethan Hawk, welcome to fresh air, and congratulations on all the new work you've been doing. I've been really enjoying it. You've said that making Blue Moon stretched you and the director of Richard Linklater to, like, the boundaries of your abilities. What made it so hard for you and so different? Well, first of off, I guess the emotional complexity.

I mean, there's the verbiage. Larry Hart is at this opening night party, and it's kind of like he feels if he ever stops talking, he's going to be shot and killed, and so he just cannot stop talking. So there was the amount of text I had to learn. Yeah. There's the complication.

He's incredibly, what is it, it's called the correlation of opposites. He's two things simultaneously all the time. He is incredibly jealous, and he's incredibly, happy and proud of his friend. He's gay and in love with a woman. He's the most diminutive smallest person in the room and he's the biggest personality in the room. The whole experience of making it, I felt I was being asked to play two things at the same time,

which is, of course, why I want to do it. It was wonderful and it was like the way real people are, but it's challenging. Every now and then you do, you bump up against a part that presses you to the wall of your ability. And you know you can never be as good as the part is demanding of you. And that's a kind of thrilling spot to be in. So you're playing someone who thinks that their height, their hair makes them really ugly

and unappealing. Plus he's gay and he has to hide that from the public. Well, it was illegal in 1943. Yeah. He does have to hide it. No, absolutely. Right, right. So in a way, like talking all the time is a distraction from all the things that he thinks are unappealing about him.

And he's also very short. I think he's like five feet or under. You're pretty tall. And you had to have a comb over for it, which is literally not attractive. So you had to feel very much not like yourself. Well, it was interesting. I was being directed by a man who's directed me, and this is our ninth film collaboration. So he knows every trick in my toolbox. And he was really asking me to disappear. That was, he wanted, he just wanted me to be Larry Hart. And so, even the man has spent years of his life editing my performances. So anytime he would see me, he would say, I saw you, I saw you, I saw you. I saw you. And he was... I saw you Ethan Hawke and not Larry.

Yeah, and not Larry. And so the physical things are kind of, you know, they're kind of easy. They're superficial, ultimately, if they don't unlock the soul of the man, right? Anybody can shave their head and do a comb over. But it was really the soul of a person who's loathing themselves. And at the same time, thinks they're smarter than everybody else. And his intellect is his only power, his pride. in his work is his only self-worth.

And that is being stripped from him on this night. I mean, imagine if you only worked with one other person for 25 years, and you achieved incredible heights, and this person now doesn't want to work with you anymore. So it's truly heartbreaking for him, because I think he's smart enough to know that the world is changing. We're in the middle of the war. The Jazz Age is being left behind.

Something new is happening, and he's not going to be a part of it. and he feels a titanic plate shifting, you know, and he's being sent away to Antarctica or something. I mean, that's what I think he feels. So I'm under five feet tall, and I might be shorter than he was. So how to playing somebody short and having to look up at people, what did you learn about my life at my height? The world is so stupid in the way that it, um, imagine. imagines power and intelligence and grace and, you know, tall and handsome, tall equating power, tall equating authority. It doesn't. Beauty is as beauty does. We all know this. It was, as a male, I think it's even more different because

I remember there was a man who was really helping me with the height and how to achieve it. We were kind of trying to do it with old school stagecraft, and he had built a floor that he, you know, he had built a floor that he could put his feet through and then wear his shoes on his shin. So he really appeared a foot shorter than he did. And his wife, who they've been together for decades, came to him and was looking at him. She's like, wow, if you were this tall,

I wouldn't love you. And it was really a heartbreaking experience for him that he really wanted to share with me that confused him deeply about how what we associate as sexuality, what we associate with strength. And it did unlock for me, I mean, just even all my normal ways of flirting.

I have all these scenes with Margaret Quali. He was a beautiful young woman, and she would just giggle at everything I say and pat me on top of the head, and it was extremely patronizing. And you had to find a different set of tools to get her attention. So I don't know that I could,

speak intelligently about it, but I could feel it in my guts. So you've played at least two brilliant but self-destructive artists, Chet Baker, the great jazz trumpeter and singer, who had several addictions, and Larry Hart, who died of complications from drinking way too much. It's not uncommon for talented artists. Oh, and River Phoenix, who you worked with, died of an overdose. Philip Seymour Hoffman. Oh, and Philip Seymour Hoffman.

Yes, right. It's not uncommon for talented artists to have a self-destructive side or a need for the kind of medication that they believe, you know, the addiction provides for. Do you feel like you understand why those two things so often go together? Well, first off, I think humanity experiences this. I think we see it in public figures and artists because we're in the public more. issues of addiction are complicating and destroying so much of society and so many people are in pain

and these are pain killers and I think the artistic community to be driven to create usually is motivated by some sensitivity and extreme sensitivity I don't know I have seen it my whole life but you mentioned River and that was extremely

complex and upsetting thing that happened in my early 20s, his passing. And then middle age brings its own demons, which happened to my friend Phil. And it's, I think part of my collaboration with Rick and part of why I love working with Richard Linkletter is he has so much joy in his life. And he didn't, when I was young and becoming friends with him, he was one of the first artists I met who really didn't see self-destruction as a romantic well to draw from. He had so much joy and love of life. But I do enjoy playing these parts because I do understand it. I grew up with so many men of the theater who were in so much pain

and they were some of the most ferociously intelligent and kind and good people that were full of so much self-loathing. And when I first read the script, I just, I was desperate to play this guy. You're Larry Hart? Yeah. Yeah. So River Phoenix, you made your first movie with him, the Explorers. So he died at age 23 and 1993 of an OD of morphine and cocaine.

Was that a warning for you, you know, like don't touch this stuff? Like were you ever Were you ever seduced by the relief of addictive drugs? I don't know What flashes through my mind is When River and I were doing The Explorers We both were

We both loved James Dean And James Dean smoked camo and filtered cigarettes And we thought it would be cool to go out And we stole a pack of camon filters and went out in this field and smoked three of them. And River turned green and he vomited. And when he passed, I thought about that moment that we all have different bodies. And some of us can press the limit and our bodies can handle it and we can learn from it.

And some of us turn green. And River was very sensitive, extremely sensitive. and it's part of his genius. I don't know. Does that make sense to you when I'm trying to communicate? Yes, yes. And some of us get second chances, and some of us, our DNA is hardwired to protect ourselves,

and some people don't have those guardrails. And I don't understand it, and I know that the answer is you have to know yourself. And yes, to your question, was it a warning? Of course it was a warning. But we all get warnings. and I sometimes think a lot of it as accident and I wish. I remember when we were 23, I felt that we had lived.

And now here I am, you know, I'm about to be 55 years old. And I've lived twice as long as River. River didn't get to be a dad and River didn't get to have the experiences of the roller coaster ride of the ups and downs of a profession. I almost feel sadder about his death. now because I would love to see him. I'd love to see what he thinks now. He was such a political young man and he was such an idealist. I would love to see what that looked like at 55. And I would love to see the artist that he would be in the art he would have made. I can't believe that Phil's gone. Half of why I act sometimes is

to impress those two men that I was friends with. You know what I mean? I think about them all the time when I'm performing because they were the gauge by which I judged myself and they still are. I want to ask you about time. The film Boyhood was shot, directed by Richard Linklater,

who just directed you in Blue Moon. It was shot over 12 years, and as this family age, as the children and the divorced parents aged, the actors aged. So that was a long-term commitment. Blue Moon takes place on one evening. It's practically shot in real time.

So making movies that play with time like that, especially boyhood over 12 years, I'm wondering if that has shaped your understanding of time, what time means to you. you. It has so much and you're not even mentioning the before trilogy. Oh, yes, no, that's right. Yeah, yeah. And each movie was separated by a few years. Nine years. Yeah. I think it's part of the hook of Linkletter and I's friendship as we both have a obsession with it. Think about it all the time. All the time. It's omnipresent in our awareness. And I think that acting did Poet Society came out and I started being sent scripts.

I'm 18, 19 years old. And now I'll be sent a script and it says, Billy, age 19, skateboarding down the street. And I always think, oh, that's my part. It's just the way I read script. It takes me a while to realize, oh, Billy's father, age 55, gruff and weathered around the edges. I'm like, oh, that's me. I'm forced always to look at that. I remember watching the first screening of boyhood with Patricia Arquette and I were sitting

next to each other. And she goes to ours with you. Yeah. And she leans over to me and says, wow, they're growing up and we're aging. And it's funny, I don't know where that turn happens where we stop thinking of ourselves as growing. But acting forces you to be aware of time. Cinema naturally does it. The stories I gravitate to, particularly in the films with Richard Linkletter, seem to be, I often think Father Time is the main character of all the films we've done. together. And you made what, nine of them now? Yeah. So how is getting older affecting your relationship with the passage of time? Well, you're just hitting me with some real lightweight questions. Yeah, you're welcome. Well, it's arresting for anybody, you know, I think when you

get over the age of 50, it is. I feel it very powerfully. I feel a desire to work. I don't I don't know if you feel that, but I feel I'm aware of how much of the road has already been walked, and I'm very conscious of I find myself often thinking, how old was Jeff Bridges when he did True Grit? Am I older than him now? Am I younger than him? How old was Peter Weir when he directed Dead Poets Society? I'm older than he was now. I thought he was an old man. I'm very aware of how many more years I might. have to contribute and I don't like wasting time anymore. I'm very aware of how many people mentored me and cared for me and am I doing that for others. Am I meeting my responsibilities as a citizen, not just as a father, which is obvious and omnipresent in my life? Those questions are on my mind all the time. Then there's this other voice which is am I enjoying my life? And I because I do want to enjoy it too. And how much of this work that I'm obsessed with is eroding it.

My sense of play and joy and spontaneity and living and being in the moment. And it is strange. The older you get, I have no awareness of wisdom. I only have awareness of how many things I thought I understood that I don't understand. And more questions come. come in the door. And that's kind of exciting. What do you think? Well, about aging, I mean, there comes a moment when you realize you're not the young person anymore. And then how people look at you changes as you get older. You know, I'm an actor, right? So I have a talent agent.

And I remember being really proud of myself. At one time, I noticed I was the youngest client they had. And I was kind of proud of that. And now often I'm the oldest person in the room. You know, I did this movie Blackphone, too, and there's all these young people around, and they're looking at me and talking to me as if I know something. And I'm not positive that I do. Well, we have to take another break, so I'm going to reintroduce you again. If you're just joining us, my guest is Ethan Hawk, and among the new things he's starring in,

Blue Moon, about lyricist Larry Hart, and the Sterling Harjo take on film noir, which is called The Low Down. We'll be right back after a short break. I'm Terry Gross, and this is Fresh Air. I want to ask you a little bit about your documentary you made a few years ago called Seymour an introduction. And it's about the pianist and composer Seymour Bernstein, who gave up a career as touring pianist giving recitals. But he grew just really disillusioned with the life he was leading, performing all the time, traveling, and he gave it up after years as a performer and decided that his calling was teaching. As a private teacher to, you know, very talented pianists.

And he's also very wise. You met him at a dinner party and you'd asked him a couple of, you know, pretty profound questions and he gave you interesting answers. So this documentary is all about him. And he was, I think, in his 80s when you made it. And he's in his late 90s now? Yes. Yeah. So I want to play an excerpt of a conversation that you had with him that's in the film.

And you tell him you're entering the second half of your life and thinking about what you want out of this next phase. I'm looking at myself and I'm saying you have the second half of your life ahead of you. If it's not for material game, if I don't have a specific religious calling, what is it that I'm living it for? the whole system of life is geared to make you think about success. Often, doing my art the best and equating that with any kind of financial success are just wildly at odds with one another. Of course they are. And so... They can even get in the way of one another.

Yeah. Yes. Some of the most successful things I've done have been some of the worst things I've done. And sometimes I think that just play. Playing life more beautifully is what I'm after, but I don't know how to do it. But don't you do it through acting? Well, I don't know what would you. I want to do it through acting, yeah.

So are art and success getting closer for you with films like Boyhood, Blue Moon, the streaming series Reservation Dogs, and the lowdown, the Good Lord Bird? They are. and listening to it right now, I realized that that movie was kind of my midlife crisis. And, you know, I could really credit Seymour for redirecting my life, giving me permission to be the grown person I aspire to be,

to give me permission to go after that. Some of the things you just mentioned are my favorite things I've done, and there has been more unity between myself, and what I'm putting forth into the world in this period of my life. And I'd be lying if I didn't say, you know, that movie is also the first film I worked on with my wife. We start a little mom-and-pop production company

and something about working with her kind of united these disparate parts of my brain where I wasn't compartmentalizing work and home life anymore, that they were becoming one thing. I want to mention something that is also something that you mentioned to Seymour Bernstein, the pianist. You told him you had stage fright and talked to him a little bit about that. Under what circumstances do you have stage fright? Was it just literally on stage because you've also done a lot of theater? Was it also on screen when you could like do a retake?

because of his warmth, I felt unashamed to say to him, what do you do about stage fright? Because I was about 40. I'd been a child actor, and I had so much confidence about acting. And both on film and on stage, I was having anxiety attacks and panic attacks, and I really had no mechanisms to deal with it or understand it. And this man just smiled at me and looked at me really intense.

And so, and he said, oh, this is very good. This is very exciting. You're about to have a breakthrough. And I was like, what do you mean? And he's like, well, you're finally understanding and respecting. You should be nervous. Your anxiety is your friend. Let it be your friend.

This is guiding you towards excellence. And you don't need to see this as a problem at all. And he was very profound about loving yourself and making friends with your demons and being proud of the fact that you care. But you've said you thought when you had that stage fright that you were going to die. Why was it death that you thought would be the final symptom of stage fright as opposed to just humiliation and never working again? Well, that's a very interesting question.

And that really is the essence of why I think I wanted to play Blue Moon. When your entire self-worth is wrapped up in your work, that was the real struggle. I didn't have any self-worth besides my work. And so it was death. If I went out on stage at Lincoln Center, a place that I have the utmost respect for, an establishment that I view is significant, if I humiliate myself performing the greatest writer in the English language, William Shakespeare, than I'm not an actor, and if I'm not an actor, then I'm dead. I'm not anybody.

That was the way my thinking was at the time. So, of course, I'd be scared. And so I needed to start rooting self-worth that wasn't just about being an actor, you know. And I felt that way very much, I think, when I read the script for Blue Moon, so I know, oh, wow, Larry Hart, if he doesn't have his music, he's nothing. He's absolutely nothing. He's a ghost. He's dead.

If he cannot save his work, then he's gone. And no wonder you'd start to hit the bottle and you'd hit it hard. And he literally died several months after. Yeah, he did. You tell a story, and I think it's in John Lars' profile of you in The New Yorker, about how one of the ways you overcame the stage fright was the story of when you screamed on stage. Would you tell that story? I'll preface this with a story that Seymour Bernstein told you about a violinist he knows,

who was afraid he'd drop his bow during a performance. Yes, exactly. And he conquered that fear by intentionally dropping it during a performance, and it didn't ruin his life. Yeah, and I think the story that I told John Larr must have been, I had an incredible moment on stage. So I'm out on stage and I'm doing this monologue, and I just kind of decide to take a moment and look out at the audience,

and I saw my director, I made eye contact with him, Jack O'Brien, and I admire him wildly. He's a genius theater director. And then I looked to the left, and there was Tom Stoppard. I'm just one of my favorite human beings on the planet Earth. And I was thinking to myself, what an amazing moment this is to be in Lincoln Center with these people I wildly admire. And I knew it was one of the last times I was going to be doing the show.

And it was certainly the last time they would be there. And I was having this kind of wonderful moment. I realized I had no idea where I was in the monologue. But I couldn't remember if I'd begun the monologue or whether I was finished with the monologue or if I was in the middle of it. And I just completely froze. And finally, I just screamed.

I mean, I really did not know what else to do. And I went into the monologue from the beginning. Like a hurricane, I went into it, and I came off stage just wildly embarrassed. I was like, what happened? What happened? After the show, Stopper told me, it was wonderful. The way you started again.

I said, well, it wasn't really wonderful. I mean, it might have come across that way. And I started realizing that if you are actually in the moment, you actually can't do anything wrong. You really can't. It's going to be fine because you're going to be living. And it's this desire to be perfect that's stifling. But getting out of the moment and thinking about who was in the audience

that made you lose your train of thought as your character. That's what made you freak out where you were in the monologue, right? Exactly, yeah. Yeah. Well, it's time to take another break. So let me reintroduce you. My guest is Ethan Hawk, and he stars in the movie Blue Moon about Larry Hart,

and he also stars in the streaming series, The Lowdown. We'll be right back. This is fresh air. So when you were talking to Seymour Bernstein about the second half of your life and what do you want from it? And you were saying, like, if I don't have, like, a religious calling. And, yeah, and I was wondering, why did you mention religious calling? Did you ever think that is what you wanted? Yes. And I think I was, as a young person, I was thinking that a certain, oh, discipline, religious discipline could lend order to my life, you know,

whether I loved a lot of the great Catholic writers, and I love a lot of the great Buddhist writers, and I was constantly hoping that their discipline could work for me and give me guidance and direction and orientation in my life, but I kept struggling with it, and I would struggle to stay on that path. And finally, it was my oldest daughter who realized, Dad, you've got to stop struggling. You have your path.

Your path is the arts, and your discipline is manifest in your life as an action. that is your religious calling. That sounds pretentious perhaps on a radio show, but it's even true in a scary movie or in a silly noir set in Tulsa. You're celebrating people and life and humanity and what we're up against, and that has faith attached to it. You were raised as Episcopalian. Your mother taught Sunday school, and you actually went on missions over the summer. And in an earlier interview we did, you described your missionary work not as proselytizing, but as like free labor, helping people build latrines and build roofs. And you did that in Kentucky, in West Virginia,

and the back haulers. And one summer you went to Haiti and worked with Mother Teresa's order in the House of the Dying. Can you describe the House of the Dying? What was that exactly? It was during the AIDS crisis in Haiti in the late 80s, and the nuns, the order there, they They just had a home where you could die with peace and grace and dignity. Mostly all men could come and die and be bathed and clean. And these women were incredibly dedicated to their faith and really inspiring. My mother was going through a phase where she was really worried I was turning into a superficial little snot who cared about, you know, whether his shirt was an Izzat or Ralph Lauren or something like that. So she took me there.

She's a really inspiring and fascinating woman. Of course, when you're growing up, you don't see that. Your parents are just your parents, and they're annoying. But her faith was very important to her. My father, too, and they gave me that, a longing for that. And they showed me how it can open up and deepen your life and give you something to live for that's bigger than, you know, your wants and needs and desires.

And it lent itself to the life of artists, the life I pursued very well. I want to talk with you about the lowdown. I'm really enjoying this. And you play an investigative journalist for a kind of underground paper. I can't remember whether you correct the person whether he says it's a magazine.

A long form magazine. Yeah, he calls it a paper and you say, no, it's a long form magazine. And you are very, very, very, eccentric. You investigate, like, power and corruption in Tulsa, where this is set. And you also break all the rules of journalism. You get beaten up a lot. And unlike, like, the tough guys in a lot of hard-boiled film noir and in novels, like, when you get beaten up, like, you hurt. And, like, you're crying out in pain. I cry. Yeah. Yeah. And so I want to play a short

scene. This is toward the beginning of the first episode. So you're investigating a powerful, wealthy guy who runs an investment company has been buying up a lot of black-owned businesses, and you're wondering like, what's this about? Tracy Letts plays that guy. You've walked into his office, dressed way too casually for a meeting like this, and you start looking around the room, picking up things, examining them, sniffing the carafe of brandy, and being intentionally sarcastic and rude. So let's pick it up with the clip. Nice to meet you in person.

We do have a lot of other business. Yeah, I'm sure you do. This place is so fancy. I've never even been back here. Yeah, just some of the perks. Yeah, I should have gone in the investment firm business, instead of rare books. But you are a journalist too, right?

Or some kind of writer. I'm a truth-storian. Sorry, say again? I am a Tulsa truestorian. A truth-storian? What exactly is a truth-storian? I'm glad you asked. I read stuff.

I research stuff. I drive around, and I find stuff. Then I write about stuff. Some people care. Some people don't. I'm chronically unemployed. Always broke. Let's just say that I am obsessed with the truth.

How about that? So Ethan Hawke, the series is inspired by film noir, but it's also kind of a satire of the genre. Your character talks tough, but as I said, gets beaten up a lot. Are you a fan of noir novels, you know, hard-boiled novels or film noir? I am. I love it. I mean, I never forget the first time I saw Chinatown, or The Long Goodbye, or the Big Lobowski, for that matter,

or some of the other Philip Marlowe, Bullgard. You know, I love all that stuff. And, you know, one of the things I love about genre films is you can use the genre to be entertaining and you can fill the story up with substance and message and ideas, but it's still entertaining because you're inside this genre. So what was your take on this character? Like, what did you model him on?

I loved this character. It's been a funny year for me because, Blue Moon is probably the most different I've ever pushed myself outside the framework of my own identity. And then the lowdown is, I just, I just relate to Lee. He's Keote chasing windmills running into propellers. He's a dreamer and an idealist and self-centered and doesn't see his own blind spots and he's a moron. And I just completely relate to him. And he can say the right thing all the time and do the wrong.

thing all the time and out of that obviously comes a lot of humor I kind of saw Lee as a guy who's frozen in 1996 or something I'm still wearing the same pants I wore back then I got the same belt buckle I wore back then he still listened to the same music he listened to back then and I admire him and I also identify with his shortcomings and sterling is really fun to work with I had a great time on reservation dogs we got along like a house on fire And I can't remember a time I just ran with the character like I did with this one. Well, it's time to take another break. So let me reintroduce you.

My guest is Ethan Hawk, and he stars in the movie Blue Moon about Larry Hart. And he also stars in the streaming series, The Lowdown. We'll be right back. This is Fresh Air. You've done several movies about music. You have a new documentary that hasn't come out yet about Merle Haggard. You did a documentary about the pianist Seymour Bernstein. You played Chet Baker in a theatrical film.

I made the film Blaze. Yes, about Blaze Foley. Yeah. So when did you become really interested in music and were you ever in a band? I don't remember life without music. My father's a great pianist. Oh, what kind of music does he play? Well, when I was little, he used to play a lot of Scott Chaplin.

and I love to lay under the piano and listen to him, play these rags. And I don't know why, but music has always been that place I go to. I don't know, you put on a good record, and everything is fine, everything's going to be okay. I also think that I love acting. Acting is my job, and to understand acting I've gotten into directing, and to understand acting, I've gotten into writing. But music's one thing I can't really do. I mean, I try, but I'm not good at it at all.

But I love it. And my inability to do it well has only increased my fandom, my geekdom, my absolute hero worship of the people who can do it well. And I think I really love being a fan. Why did Merle Haggard make such a good subject for a documentary? Well, it was coming up on the last presidential election, and I had this realization that no matter who won, half the country was going to be absolutely despondent. And I found myself thinking a lot about Merle Haggard

and how much he crossed the boundaries between left and right and what a free thinker he was. You know, he spent the first nine years of his professional stardom as the new Woody Guthrie. And then he wrote this funny song, called Oki from Muskogee that was basically a really, really funny song asking the left wing to consider how the right wing might feel. And the left wing responded with absolute vehemence and felt betrayed and were angry at him. And then he was claimed by Nixon and touted as the, you know,

voice of the silent majority. And then he went on and wrote songs about civil rights that weren't released and promoted because the label weren't excited by that or they were worried he was going to lose fans and he wrote pro-immigration songs and those were ignored and then slowly the right wing lost interest in him as their spokesperson. He just was always himself and he didn't follow anyone else's bandwagon and he was a humanist and I thought he might be a great person to revisit right now as our country is so kind of team-oriented and not so,

speaking to each other. And that was the pull. Not to mention he's a genius songwriter, and he's one of the great American songwriters. And I feel that his star has been receding in popular culture. And I kind of wanted to remind everybody about what a legend he was. Well, we should end with some music. Do you have a preference? You know, why don't we, why don't you pick your favorite version of my funny Valentine? Chet Baker. Let's do Chet. Very good. Always happy to do that.

Ethan Hawk, it's just been great to talk with you. Thank you so much. And again, congratulations on all the work you've been doing. Thanks. So many good things. I'm tired after all the questions you ask me. I love your show and I love NPR and I really appreciate what you guys do. And I'm just thrilled to be on your program. So thanks for having me. Oh, thank you for saying that. It's so great to have you. Ethan Hawk is nominated for an Oscar for his starring role as lyricist Larry Hart.

in the film Blue Moon. He also starred in the FX streaming series, The Lowdown, which has been renewed for a second season. Our interview was recorded in November. My funny Valentine, sweet comic Valentine, you make me smile with my heart. Your looks are laughable

And photographable Yet you're my favorite work of art Is your figure less than greed Is your mouth a little we When you open it to speak. Are you smart? But don't change your head.

Not if you care for me. Stay. Stay. Each day. Tomorrow on fresh air, the succession story inside the Murdoch Media Empire, which includes Fox News and the Wall Street Journal. We'll talk with journalist Gabe Sherman. He's covered the Murdox for nearly two decades and has a new book about the succession fight,

the outcome, how it broke the family and its impact on the world. I hope you'll join us. Fresh Air's executive producers are Danny Miller and Sam Brigger. Our technical director and engineer is Audrey Bentham, with additional engineering today from Diana Martinez. Our interviews and reviews are produced and edited by Phyllis Myers, Anne Rie Boldenado, Lauren Crenzel, Teresa Madden, Monica, Monique Nazareth, Thea Chaloner, Susan Yucundi, Anna Bauman, and Nico Gonzalez Whistler. Our digital media producer is Molly C.V. Nestor. Roberta Shorok directs the show.

Our co-host is Tanya Mosley. I'm Terry Gross.