Ending Interpersonal Bonds
In Richard Linklater’s Before Sunset, Céline articulates a profound contemplation on the ramifications of concluding interpersonal bonds. She elucidates that the termination of each romantic affiliation exacts a considerable toll upon her psyche, leaving enduring scars from which she struggles to fully recuperate. Consequently, she exercises meticulous discretion in engaging in new relationships, cognizant of the acute pain they invariably entail. Furthermore, Céline reveals an aversion to casual sexual encounters, as they too elicit emotional distress. She articulates a poignant sentiment regarding her profound attachment to the minutiae of her erstwhile partners, perceiving in them idiosyncratic traits that evoke a profound emotional resonance. These distinctive qualities, she contends, are irreplaceable, constituting the essence of each individual’s singular beauty.
In the narrative arc of his reunion with a childhood infatuation after an interval spanning over two decades, Hae Sung seems to traverse the tapestry of existence with a discerning gaze, ceaselessly seeking significance in each fleeting instant that constitutes the intricate weave of human experience. He ponders the profound impact of every interaction, whether fruitful or fraught with disappointment, recognizing their potential to shape the very core of his being or alter the course of his life’s trajectory. Engaging in introspective inquiry, he questions the transient nature of moments, grappling with the notion that their conclusion may signify the definitive termination of their relevance, confined to the ephemeral confines of a singular split-second. Contemplating the intrinsic value of these fleeting instances, he queries whether their significance is contingent upon transcending the confines of temporal immediacy or if their import is inherently bound to the brevity of their existence.
These interrogatives serve as the thematic foundation of Past Lives, the inaugural endeavor of writer-director Celine Song. In this narrative tapestry, characterized by an intimate exploration of individual psyches against the backdrop of grand romantic narratives, Song posits the notion that seeking guidance or direction in the annals of history is an endeavor fraught with folly. Furthermore, she challenges conventional temporal delineations, eschewing the conventional descriptor 12 Years Later in favor of the more evocative 12 Years Pass, thereby emphasizing the ongoing nature of life’s progression even within the interstices of time. Through this stylistic choice, Song underscores the relentless flux of existence, wherein the individuals who once imbued particular moments with profound significance inevitably undergo transformation and evolution.
Echoes
Past Lives evokes a fleeting, ephemeral quality reminiscent of Charlotte Wells’ oeuvre, particularly her work Aftersun. Our initial encounter with Hae Sung and Na Young, portrayed by Greta Lee, unfolds twenty-four years prior in the bustling cityscape of Seoul, Korea, a juncture imbued with the anticipation of imminent upheaval as Na Young’s familial unit embarks upon a transformative emigration to Canada, thereby wrenching Hae Sung’s heart with palpable anguish. Before their departure, Na Young’s mother orchestrates a seemingly innocuous rendezvous between the pair, ostensibly intended to foster cherished memories. Little do they comprehend at the time that this seemingly inconsequential moment will burgeon into a profound and enduring connection. While the narrative could easily pivot to focus solely on Na Young’s odyssey to Canada, Song’s directorial acumen shines through in her deliberate restraint, allowing lingering cinematographic shots to convey nuanced emotions, such as Na Young’s solitary contemplation amidst the unfamiliar environs of her new school.
Na Young, now adopting the moniker Nora, has established herself as a writer residing in the bustling metropolis of New York City. A childhood aspiration of claiming the Nobel Prize in jest has metamorphosed into a more tempered ambition of attaining a Pulitzer accolade. Upon discovering Hae Sung’s erstwhile quest to locate her, Nora initiates a digital correspondence, thereby catalyzing a reflective examination of their shared history and its enduring implications. Through this virtual interaction, Nora confronts the inexorable passage of time and its capacity to arrest one’s progression by revisiting past chapters—a thematic focal point artfully scrutinized in Past Lives. Confronted with the disconcerting realization of temporal stasis, Nora implores Hae Sung for a hiatus in communication, recognizing the imperative of introspective retrospection.
An additional span of twelve years elapses, during which Nora matures into a seasoned and accomplished individual, having entered into matrimony with Arthur, a fellow wordsmith portrayed by John Magaro of First Cow fame. Concurrently, Hae Sung reemerges into Nora’s life, expressing his intention to visit New York—an overture met with a degree of skepticism from Arthur, who jests that it might be a stratagem to rekindle a romantic connection with Nora. Anticipating potential complications, Arthur’s facetious remark foreshadows the tension that may arise from Hae Sung’s impending presence. However, defying conventional narrative expectations, Past Lives embraces a nuanced portrayal of reality wherein melodramatic conjectures give way to the understated complexities of human existence. This sentiment is encapsulated in the film’s droll introductory sequence, wherein individuals engage in the imaginative exercise of crafting backstories for strangers in a bar—a self-referential commentary on the overarching narrative trajectory. Arthur’s self-aware acknowledgment of his narrative role as the ostensible impediment to Hae Sung and Nora’s connection further underscores the film’s penchant for meta-textual reflexivity.
Contemporary Korean Cinema
In contemporary cinema, the Korean film landscape is witnessing a notable trend toward transnationalism, characterized by an expanding corpus of works created by the Korean diaspora. Past Lives stands as a testament to this phenomenon, aligning itself with a burgeoning movement that includes notable productions such as the critically acclaimed Minari. The latter narrative portrays the journey of a Korean-American family as they relocate to a rural farm in pursuit of the quintessential American dream.
Past Lives distinguishes itself as a noteworthy contribution within the realm of Korean diaspora cinema, particularly due to its genesis under the creative stewardship of a woman. This aspect of authorship adds a distinct layer of significance to the film’s narrative fabric. Indeed, one of the most compelling facets of It lies in its exploration of the female perspective, offering a nuanced portrayal of the intricacies of womanhood within the broader context of diasporic identity. Through the lens of feminine sensibilities, the film delves into themes of personal agency, emotional resilience, and the negotiation of cultural belonging, thereby enriching its thematic depth and resonating with audiences on a profound level.
Immersive Cultural Exploration
Similar to the immersive cultural exploration offered by Minari, Past Lives provides audiences with a distinctive vantage point into the intricacies of Korean culture and identity, as perceived through the lens of the diasporic experience. Central to this narrative tapestry is the character of Hae Sung, whose portrayal encapsulates quintessential aspects of Korean identity. Notably, Song has deftly harnessed the rare perspective of the female gaze to depict her male protagonist. This innovative approach imbues Hae Sung’s character with a depth and complexity that transcends conventional gender norms, offering a fresh and insightful interpretation of masculinity within the context of Korean diaspora cinema.
The portrayal of Hae Sung mirrors the perceptual lens through which Nora, embodied by Greta Lee, views him—a lens informed by her perspective as a character within the narrative. Hae Sung is depicted through the camera’s gaze as a figure emblematic of the archetype of a modest Korean man hailing from the middle or lower-middle class, devoid of the assertiveness requisite for pursuing Nora’s affections. Notably, the camera’s treatment of Hae Sung eschews a sexualized perspective, instead imbuing its depiction with an aura of tender admiration, as it lingers upon him with a discernible fondness. This affectionate scrutiny is manifested through intimate close-up shots that accentuate Hae Sung’s gestures, such as the meticulous adjustment of his hair or backpack, thereby elucidating his innate sensitivity and vulnerability. Moreover, the camera’s framing tends to accentuate the enduring boyish qualities inherent in Hae Sung’s demeanor, evoking a nostalgic resonance reminiscent of Nora’s affection for the youthful incarnation of her erstwhile companion. However, the transition to adulthood finds Hae Sung burdened by the constraints of societal expectations, resulting in a perceived divergence from Nora’s idealized perception of him—a sentiment encapsulated by her lament that while she adored the youthful Hae Sung, his adult iteration appears imbued with an excessive adherence to traditional Korean norms.
Directorial Stylistic Choices
Hae Sung is masterfully portrayed by actor Teo Yoo, himself a member of the diaspora with German-Korean heritage. Upon their reunion in New York, Hae Sung communicates predominantly through a fragmented, broken English typical of a young middle-class Korean engineer. Yoo’s performance transcends linguistic barriers, adeptly conveying the intricacies of Hae Sung’s emotional landscape through a remarkably physical portrayal. His nuanced interpretation allows Hae Sung’s inner turmoil to manifest palpably, as evidenced by the subtle yet poignant expressions that animate his countenance and the deliberate manner in which he manipulates his body language.
The directorial prowess of Song is prominently showcased through a deliberate stylistic choice characterized by an abundance of protracted lingering shots and intimate close-ups, meticulously crafted to accentuate the emotional depth and nuances of its characters. Demonstrating a distinct narrative sensibility, Song eschews conventional exposition in favor of a visual storytelling approach, privileging the portrayal of characters’ emotions over explicit verbal articulation. This commitment to visual storytelling is further underscored by the judicious use of sound, with a minimalistic approach to music and acoustics serving to amplify the raw authenticity of each scene. Moreover, the sparse yet carefully curated dialogue, delivered by a select ensemble of actors, serves as a poignant conduit for the expression of profound human experiences, imbuing each word with profound resonance and significance.
Similarly, Song’s adeptness extends to her depiction of locales within the narrative framework of Past Lives, where audiences are treated to expansive long shots capturing the sprawling landscapes and bustling thoroughfares of Seoul. This deliberate cinematographic technique serves as a visual homage to the concept of remembrance and nostalgia, evoking a palpable sense of longing for bygone eras and lost moments in time. Imbued with a cool yet emotionally charged ambiance, these vistas immerse viewers in a vivid tapestry of memory and sentiment, inviting them to traverse the terrain of collective recollection.
Diaspora Themes
The canvas of the film expansively explores themes ranging from the broader concept of the Asian diaspora to the intricate process of adaptation and transformation necessitated by the act of leaving one’s place of origin. Central to this exploration is the notion that such displacement can engender a profound reevaluation of one’s identity, blurring the boundaries that delineate individual sense of self. Nora, for instance, keenly observes the gradual softening of her Korean language, yet paradoxically feels a heightened sense of Korean-ness when in dialogue with Hae Sung—a testament to the multifaceted nature of cultural assimilation and its impact on personal identity. However, the narrative trajectory ventures even deeper into the realm of individual experience, presenting a rare opportunity to revisit the pivotal moments that shape and define one’s journey toward self-realization. For individuals like Hae Sung, these moments are fiercely clung to, representing anchors of stability amidst the tumult of change—a poignant reminder of a time when life seemed more comprehensible. Conversely, Nora adopts an opposed stance, actively evading such nostalgic reverie in her relentless pursuit of a predetermined future, perhaps as a means of assimilation or as a proactive step towards the realization of her envisioned destiny. Notably, Past Lives refrains from casting judgment on either approach, recognizing that each individual’s path is inherently valid and that the only conceivable direction is forward.
While Past Lives may at times overtly address its thematic concerns, the impact of such direct engagement remains undeniably profound. The film culminates in a series of final moments that are both devastating and triumphant, imbued with a miraculous quality that leaves an indelible mark on the viewer. Greta Lee delivers a tour de force performance, indicative of a rising star poised for recognition during awards season—a portrayal that demands to be etched into the annals of history. As the narrative unfolds, each of the three protagonists embarks upon a transformative journey, with new chapters brimming with possibility unfurling before them, while the closure of past chapters heralds the commencement of a process of healing old wounds and rewriting the narrative of their lives. Song’s screenplay, replete with beautifully simple yet profoundly affecting insights, pulsates with a simmering romantic tension, despite the film’s departure from conventional romantic tropes. The remarkable chemistry between Greta Lee, Teo Yoo, and John Magaro infuses the narrative with astonishing realism, deftly navigating the delicate balance between melodrama and comedy characteristic of Song’s stage work.
Intrinsic Beauty and Individuality
Past Lives evokes parallels with the profound existential inquiry posed in the denouement of Arrival: “If you could see your whole life from start to finish, would you change things?” Speculating on this hypothetical scenario, one might conjecture that if posed this question, Song, the creative force behind the film, would resoundingly affirm a negative response. The crux of her perspective likely resides in the appreciation of life’s intrinsic beauty derived from its individuality and unique trajectory. Despite the transient intersections with others that punctuate one’s journey, each lifetime remains a singular and irreplaceable entity, imbued with its distinctive reality and inherent value. In essence, the essence of existence lies in the unrepeatable essence of one’s narrative, transcending the desire for alteration or revision in favor of embracing the richness and authenticity of one’s lived experience.
In such perspective, these stylistic decisions evoke characteristics reminiscent of slow cinema—an aesthetic approach to filmmaking characterized by deliberate pacing, prolonged takes, and a predilection for silence over verbose dialogue. Past Lives emerges as a romantic homage to the poignant yearning experienced by the Korean diaspora for a bygone era and a distant homeland. With its captivating narrative and sensitively crafted portrayal of complex emotions, this film is poised to captivate and resonate with audiences far and wide.
Bibliography
- Bradshaw, P. (2023). Past Lives review – a must-see story of lost loves, childhood crushes and changing identities. The Guardian.
- Castillo, M. (2023). Past Lives. Roger Ebert.
- Lee, H. (2023). Past Lives: a luxurious and lingering portrayal of lost love and identity in the Korean diaspora. The Conversation.
- Li, C. (2023). ‘Past Lives’ crafts new dimensions of love and loss. Massachusetts Daily Collegian.
- Shaw, A. (2024). Past Lives Cast & Character Guide. Screen Rant.