As “Past Lives” ends, you’re left wondering two things: What do I have to do to get Greta Lee’s cheekbones, and how the hell was this writer/director Celine Song’s first film?
Song’s deft hand results in some amazing moments, along with a damn near accurate portrayal of writers and how they perceive life and love. Films, especially the Hollywood kind, have this annoying habit of painting writers as these prosaic, egotistical dreamers with a very fragile grasp of reality.
Not here, not with Nora (played by Lee) and Arthur. The New York couple have a very real and loving relationship and a decidedly pragmatic and tempered view of success in their careers, which we see in momentary snatches. There are no big wins or million-dollar deals, but there is a publishing and a pretty prestigious artists’ retreat (which is where they meet).
“Past Lives” is not, however, about the love story of Nora and Arthur, not for more than about ten minutes, anyway. It’s the story of these two Korean kids, who find themselves deeply entwined in each other’s consciousnesses, Hae Sung and Na Young, the latter changing her name to Nora Moon when she emigrates to Canada.
It takes place in three movements (“acts” feels too soulless for what this is), separated by a dozen years each time. At the end of each, they say goodbye, and it’s heartwrenchingly quiet every time, accompanied by silences and an inability to not move on.
This film does not pull a single emotional punch, and it does not degrade itself into cliché or unnecessarily raised stakes. Nora is never faced with the romcom conundrum of choosing between two men, or between her love and her work because, well, that doesn’t really happen much, does it? She chooses her career because she’s unapologetically ambitious and does not settle; this is drawn home repeatedly as we see her grow from ages 12 to 36.
What this film feels like is my favourite column in any publication ever, the New York Times’ ‘Modern Love’, which has made a hit of itself in podcast and TV show format too. It feels so real and truthful.
Loving a writer is hard on the heart and the soul, trust me. Lorde even wrote that one song about it, which, by that way, is an apt narration for Nora’s state of mind at the end of this film, which is about the most spoiler-free way I can tell you about it.
For a film about writers, by a writer, which I strongly suspect is also the slightest bit for writers, Past Lives really finds itself in the bits where there’s no talking. You won’t miss the brilliant words spoken by every character in every single scene, but the silence is where a lot of the bigger feelings happen.
In a scene where Nora and Hae Sung are waiting for a cab, there’s a brilliant collaboration of acting, direction and sound design where not a word is passed between the two…of the three times I’ve been to to watch this film, I have yet to hear a single breath during that scene.
It’s unimaginably tense and so perfectly executed, something you realise is barely an accident as Lee and Teo Yoo, who plays Hae Sung, didn’t know when the cab would arrive. Song waited and signalled the cab in from offscreen when she thought the moment was right. Their moment is punctured as suddenly as ours is, and it’s a beautifully orchestrated act of innately human rhythm. She speaks of its creation in a video for the New York Times
Another masterstroke of authenticity was keeping Teo Yoo and John Magaro, Hae Sung and Arthur respectively, physically separate until the day they shot the scene of the actual characters’ first meeting. The awkwardness and distance between Nora’s husband and past love is almost laughable if, like anything else in this movie, it didn’t hurt you the slightest bit.
You also can’t miss how literally every frame of this film is a painting, the camera placements, the framing, all of it is simply brilliant, and it’s baffling how all that perfection was achieved in this auteur-made film in the heart of New York. In particular, there’s a scene where they’re boarding the ferry to go see the Statue of Liberty, and the entire scene exists in shadows and silhouettes, which, given Song’s brilliant knack for humanity, doesn’t feel kitschy or unwelcome at all, it just lives and breathes just as the characters within it do.
The undertone of the immigrant experience is not lost, and, for all its subtlety, Nora’s dual identity as Korean and American is explored heavily in the film. She embraces New York as any young playwright would, but it becomes apparent that between NYC, Canada and Korea, she left some parts of herself behind. It is the largest of those parts of her that her childhood sweetheart carries within him.
As only a writer could, Arthur pokes fun at his own role in this story, delivering what I can only describe as a cynical pillow talk version of “of all the gin joints in all the towns in all the world…”. Nora takes umbrage to this, and simply states that she wouldn’t run away and “miss rehearsals for some dude”. Arthur’s nihilism in parts does remind you of how enduring Nora’s love for him must be to not just smack him in the face.
All the writing and direction in the world, however, would manifest to nothing if not for the actors that play the parts. Teo Yoo and Greta Lee deliver like Amazon Prime could only hope for, with chemistry in every word and all the bits betwixt.
It’s also unavoidable that these are two highly attractive leads that will have the bisexuals of the world empathising in duality, thus leaving this film the slightest bit sad, not knowing why.
This movie exists in yearning and in lovesickness and makes you nostalgic for someone else’s first love, and probably your own. All the good storytelling in the world could not make it more astounding that the writer/director, Song, says that ‘Past Lives’ is based on events from her own real life.
This film is poetry, a close approximation is perhaps Richard Linklater’s “Before” trilogy, but more than anything, I am reminded of Richard Siken’s book of poems, Crush, and not just because I am right now looking at my copy of it. This film feels like a lot of those feelings brought to life:
“and maybe a mouth sounds idiotic when it blathers on about joy but tell me you love this, tell me you’re not miserable.”
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