There’s a scene about three-quarters of the way through Past Lives when a married couple talk in bed, he touching on his insecurities and she trying to make him comprehend that their relationship is more inviolate than he’s able to believe. The writing is superb, surprising us by how much it matches what we’re thinking while being so true to these characters. Listening to Celine Song’s dialogue, we’re reminded by just how rare it is to hear honest adult conversations like this in film, ones that don’t shout or grandstand but burrow into the emotions in the subtlest of ways. Past Lives is a remarkably delicate debut, a romance that plays on the borders of standard love stories but brings a rich understanding of how love shifts over time, and how the what-ifs in life so often dangle around the perimeters of our lives. The exceptional buzz generated in Sundance will only keep building, resulting in a well-deserved indie hit.
Much of playwright Song’s own life is here, which makes sense given the acuity with which she writes these characters, but it’s not only her avatar who gets such insightful treatment. She’s beautifully captured the middle class immigrant experience and that perception of being part of two cultures, exacerbated by the ways our child and adult selves process a sense of self. Yet she gives equal weight to the one who remains at home, whose present life is less fulfilled and for whom what could have been remains a driving force throughout his life.
Song demonstrably relishes the way cinema can transcend certain limitations of the stage, and while her ear for dialogue is unerring, she’s not made a talky theater piece. The film is divided into multiple periods, briefly opening in the present and then jumping back 24 years, when twelve-year-old Na Young (Seung Ah Moon) is crying because for the first time Hae Sung (Seung Min Yim) got better grades. That makes it sound like she’s a brat, but that wouldn’t be quite accurate: she’s headstrong and determined yet also sympathetic. They go on a mother-approved date, though Na Young’s family are about to immigrate to Toronto, and later when the kids need to say goodbye, they don’t make an emotional show because, in their pre-teen way, the feelings are greater than they can process.
Twelve years pass and Na Young is now Nora (a superb Greta Lee), just moved to New York where she dreams of being a successful playwright. Surprised to hear that Hae Sung (Teo Yoo, equally excellent) is trying to connect with her on Facebook, she replies and the two launch into an intense Skype relationship, but neither is able to visit the other for at least a year, and Nora imposes a break in order to focus on the here and now. To categorize Hae Sung as more of a romantic and Nora as more of a pragmatist is to incorrectly assume that she feels the connection less, but she is more driven to look forward, whereas he’s wanting to carry the past into the present.
At a writer’s retreat in Montauk, Nora meets Arthur (John Magaro), a nice Jewish guy; they fall in love, and a few years later get married. We don’t see much of the courtship, don’t glimpse dates or the families meeting – Song’s script is economical without feeling hurried, attuned to the interplay between jumps and interludes. Seven years into the marriage, Hae Sung gets in touch saying he’s coming to New York for a visit, and suddenly the three are forced to do battle with their emotions, reconciling past with present.
Past Lives opens at a bar in New York, where we hear (but don’t see) a couple looking across at three people, imagining what their relationship is to one another, just like the audience does. Of course that trio is Nora, Hae Sung and Arthur, and it’s remarkable how the three performers are so skilled with body language and facial gesture that the sensations we get from the start, without knowing them yet, are fully confirmed by the time we come full circle. Revealing how they come to this point would be giving away too much, but this second half is the film’s heart, where the conversations go deeper – unsurprising, given they’re all adults now – and the emotional pulls are the most moving. This includes Arthur, who comes across as a nice but kind of schlubby guy, really no match for the more attractive and soulful Hae Sung. But it’s a testament to Song (and Magaro) that Arthur’s fears of being an outsider, of not quite deserving Nora’s love, resonate despite having the film’s more minor role.
Greta Lee’s Nora is a compelling mix of intelligence and motivation, a woman who knows herself, knows that emotions are complicated, and lets them play out without fear of leading her away from the life she’s built. We are not ourselves as children, though it’s remarkable how much of who we were remains inside us, not determining our actions but certainly how we look at ourselves. Teo Yoo is an ideal match, and while his Hae Sung stuck in some ways in the past, he’s no weak-willed moper: the actor instills a nobility in his character, so we feel that these two, despite her unquestionably clearer-eyed approach, are equals.
There are times in Past Lives when the film threatens to tip into a Woody Allen-esque romance, replete with the Circle Line and kissing couples decorously placed under the Brooklyn Bridge. The feeling is reinforced by the score, with its soft jazzy understatement of piano, cymbals and guitar that accompany many of the wordless scenes. And yet thanks to Song’s gentle touch, these kinds of almost standardized interludes don’t harm the overall atmosphere, just as the rather too-perfect art direction, such as Nora’s desk piled with Macbeth, A Doll’s House and other obvious classics, don’t detract from our recognition of the characters’ individuality and depth. Some of the credit must also go to cinematographer Shabier Kirchner, whose elegant glides and judicious positioning so movingly capture the heartbreakingly charged air of unspoken emotion that is the film’s greatest gift.
Director: Celine Song
Screenplay: Celine Song
Cast: Greta Lee, Teo Yoo, John Magaro, Seung Ah Moon, Seung Min Yim, Ji Hye Yoon, Won Young Choi, Min Young Ahn, Yeon Woo Seo, Kiha Chang, Hee Chul Shin, Jun Hyuk Park.
Producers: David Hinojosa, Christine Vachon, Pamela Koffler
Executive producers: Miky Lee, Hosung Kang, Jerry Kyoungboum Ko, Celine Song, Taylor Shung, Christine D’Souza Gelb
Co-executive producer: Yeonu Choi
Co-producers: Khan Kwon, Yale Chasin
Cinematography: Shabier Kirchner
Production designer: Grace Yun
Costume designer: Katina Danabassis
Editing: Keith Fraase
Music: Christopher Bear, Daniel Rossen
Sound: Dimitri Kouri
Production companies: Killer Films (USA), A24 Productions (USA)
World sales: A24 Films
Venue: Berlinale (competition); Sundance
In English, Korean
106 minutes
