#FilmStrips: Richard Linklater's BEFORE SUNSET & BEFORE SUNRISE
Richard Linklater's Before films
stand the test of time
I never actually got to finish that first viewing, and it wasn't until roughly two years later, at what was then the Times Square Virgin Megastore (R.I.P., sob sob), that I would purchase my own copy and finally see the whole thing through. Quickly after that initial purchase followed Sunset in its wake. By then, I was a freshman in college -- and as one on the cusp of her early twenties, heavily steeped in culture and armed with a personal "yen" for travel, the idea of having a philosophical, intellectually-charged conversation with someone whilst traipsing around a European city over the course of an evening was, at the time, just about the highest form of romance there was.
The intervening years between each film viewing were, naturally, a highly formative growth period for me (and one which this blog can certainly attest to). Since then, just like the cherry blossoms that promise their bloom every late spring and early summer, Sunrise & Sunset became a pair of perennial favorites, and I would find myself amiss if the changing seasons were not accompanied by a viewing of both films. As a result, Linklater's examination of Time and Memory's effects on human relationships (most recently and notably evident in his Oscar®-winning film Boyhood ) would eventually become hugely influential in my writing, reflecting my own curiosities.
|Ethan Hawke (left), and Julie Delpy (right),|
as Jesse and Celine in Before Sunrise.
What follows, of course, is the above-mentioned philosophical, intellectually-charged conversation. The two eventually decide to get off the train at Vienna and explore the city on foot, making their way past various postcard-worthy locales: the famous Prater ferris wheel; a cemetery filled with anonymous graves; an alternative record store; and even find themselves at that most universally requisite of twenty-something haunts, a seedy dive bar replete with pinball machines and musicians decked out in plaid and baggy jeans (this takes place, after all, at the height of the grunge era). They run into two quirky theatre actors who playfully joke at Jesse's linguistic ignorance ("Do you speak German, for a change?"), as well as a seemingly omniscient fortune-teller and a homeless man who writes poetry in exchange for money (Jesse: "I like this Viennese variation of bum.") -- the conversation forever flowing all the while, bouncing off these interactions. They, of course, flirt -- not just with words, but with pauses, silences and sidelong glances (Celine: "I like to feel his eyes on me when I look away."). As the day turns into night, it is not just the characters who fall in love with one another's beguiling turns of phrase, but the audience, as well. Here is where the film's (mostly) real-time premise lends itself perfectly, providing a wonderful, ineffable immediacy to their seemingly spontaneous exchange.
After a few verbal fumbles at the mere sight of her, Jesse finally finishes the session and walks over to the still-smiling Celine, sharing in an awkward exchange of hellos. From there, it's back to the postcard-worthy locales, the likes of which only Paris can provide (from coffee and tea at Le Pure Cafe; to walks down High Line pre-emptor, the Promenade Plantee; to a dreamy ferry ride along the Seine), as well as the ever-familiar restraints of Time (they have until -- you guessed it -- sunset, before Jesse must leave to catch his plane back to the States). Despite some moments of awkwardly finding their bearings, the two fall right back into the thick of things, continuing the conversation they had started nine years before.
As Celine thoughtfully says to Jesse towards the end of Sunrise: "If there is any kind of magic in the world, it must be in the attempt of understanding someone sharing something." This magic is also due, of course, to both actors' on-screen chemistry and eventual off-screen collaboration by the time Sunset and Midnight come around. The brainchild of Linklater and original collaborator Kim Krizan, the two characters and the story surrounding them only seem to fully take shape once under the guiding hands (or more accurately, voices) of the actors portraying them, by the time its sequel comes around.
Perhaps the most obvious of these is what Lopate dubs the "Time Machine" motif, first seen in Sunrise, wherein Jesse says to Celine:"Think of it like this -- jump ahead ten, twenty years, and you're married. Only your marriage doesn't have the same energy it used to have. You start to blame your husband. You start to think about all those guys in your life, and what might have happened if you'd picked up with one of them. So, think of this as time travel from then to now, to find out what you're missing out on." As we literally jump nearly ten years later in Sunset, we see this very scenario enacted through Jesse himself, who confesses to being stuck in an unhappy marriage, his years spent together with his wife occasionally punctuated by thoughts and even dreams of Celine and their almost-romance. (This motif, as Lopate further points out, is once again invoked by Jesse at the end of Midnight.)
Celine, too, does some invoking of her own, with the motif of an "old woman" alter-ego. She states, in Sunrise,"I always have this strange feeling I'm this very old woman laying down about to die -- you know, that my life is just her memories or something." As the two meet once again in Sunset, she says to a frustrated Jesse: "But we're not real anyway, right? We're just characters in that old lady's dream. She's on her deathbed, fantasizing about her youth, so of course we had to meet again, right?" Other thematic elements occur between the two threads of conversation in each film, from musings on religion and spirituality, to the ever time-honored debate over the social expectations of Man versus Woman.
Just as with its predecessor, Sunset also ends on an open note -- however, one much less ambiguous in comparison. By the time the pair's jaunt all over Paris ends up at Celine's apartment (with Jesse's driver waiting by the courtyard below to take him straight to the airport), it is clear that he won't be crossing that ocean by day's end, after all. As Celine playfully dances along to a Nina Simone track (the very aptly-titled "Just in Time"), she turns to him and says, "Baby, you are going to miss that plane." At which he softens into a grin and simply replies, "I know." Ambiguous endings or not, the unforgettable chemistry between Linklater's characters are anything but. From the way Hawke & Delpy each tackle the dialogue, to the similar ease with which their characters seem to bask in one another's company, the first two films in the Before Trilogy prove to be a unique walk down memory lane -- one we'll want to revisit again and again.