The alluring, almost irresistible idea of “what if” has often been explored in films, but rarely so precisely and so poignantly as playwright and first-time director Celine Song does here. Shot on film and in a 1.85:1 aspect ratio, Past Lives looks and feels like wistful nostalgia. The story itself is quasi-autobiographical for the Canadian-American Song, and centers on the lifelong connection between Nora (Greta Lee), who moves from Korea to Canada as a child and later to New York as an adult, while her childhood sweetheart Hae Sung (Teo Yoo) who stays in Korea.
The plot itself it not critical to the story. Not much actually “happens”, and describing the sequence of events beat-by-beat risks making the film seem more boring than it actually is. The richness and flavor of the film is in its characters, its style, and its detail, and how Song and the actors interpret certain moments, words, and gestures, and even pauses and silences. There certainly are interesting themes – the Asian American identity search, immigration, and long lost love – but the film is special because the inner entanglements of the two leads evokes something deep inside the viewer, a mixture of childhood innocence and the bottomless hope of your first love. There is also a tinge of tragedy to the proceedings – at one point, Nora tells Hae Sung to watch Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind.
Nora and Hae Sung’s relationship passes through time like the Before series, except that it is all compressed into a single film. The frequent long and tracking shots of the two leads tell their own winding tale, moving forwards and backwards in time, and crossing physical and symbolic forks in the road. Over time, Nora becomes more and more Americanized, and even her Korean is rusty, such that communicating in her mother tongue doesn’t come quite so easily for her (Lee had to practice a purposely bad Korean accent). There is an inextricable link between language and memory for all of us, and for Nora, the way Hae Sung is the only person in her life who still calls her by her Korean name Na Young, becomes a special form of intimacy. To him, she is Na Young, his 12-year old best friend, and they both are forced to try to reconcile the current real-life counterparts with the versions that have lived in their heads for so long.
The film is full of quotes that will linger on in your mind long after the end credits have rolled, many of them are about the Korean concept of in-yun, which is a sort of providence that transcends this life into past and future lives. As Nora describes it: “It’s an in-yun if two strangers even walk by each other in the street and their clothes accidentally brush. Because it means there just have been something between them in their past lives. If two people get married, they say it’s because there have been 8,000 layers of in-yun over 8,000 lifetimes.” The physical manifestation of Nora and Hae Sung’s in-yun is present throughout but particularly in the few scenes in which they physically appear together, with absolutely smoldering chemistry, and the rarity of these scenes make them even more enjoyable. To paraphrase Nora, this film does not fuck around – it goes straight for your heart.
While this is mostly a two-hander, there is a third significant character played by John Magaro. His role won’t be spoiled here but where in most stories he would be the villain, Song and her characters metatextualize his relationship with both Nora and Hae Sung, which is earned by the motivations of the each of the characters and drives home the point that you can have in-yun with more than one person. In fact, by definition, each of us have thousands of such connections, but that does not make them any less special. Magaro might have the the toughest role of the three actors, but he is more than up for it.
Hae Sung and Nora both struggle internally, and try to convince themselves that life has turned out for them the way it is supposed to. At one point Nora tells her partner: “This is my life. And I’m living it with you.” And that line feels completely meaningful and sincere while simultaneously feeling wholly inadequate given everything that is going on between them. Ultimately, it might be Nora’s mother who has the most resonant and truthful line in the film: “When you leave something behind, you gain something too.” Like Nora and Hae Sung themselves, with each passing minute you are uncertain as to where things will end up between them, but Song assuredly and satisfyingly sticks the landing.
Past Lives is a tale told with poetry, prose, pauses, and stunning shot composition. It is both serious and funny, as a lifelike, intimate memoir that captures that special kind of feeling that makes your heart flutter, your stomach drop, and your mind roam. It’s a story of in-yun. This is, by some distance, the best film of the year.
Now available to rent on VOD.
