by A.J.
Best Pictures #101: 2023 (96th) Academy Awards Best Picture Nominee
“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 must have been something between them in their past lives.”
Past Lives opens with a curious prologue. From a distance we see three people (a Korean man, a Korean woman, a Caucasian man) sitting together at a bar late at night. Anonymous voices off camera wonder, “Who do you think they are to each other?” and speculate on possible scenarios and situations. In this brief scene writer-director Celine Song, with her amazing debut feature, dramatizes in short form what is at the core of every movie. We as the audience are here to know who these characters are and what they mean to each other. The answer to that question drives everything in this delicate story about life, relationships, and fate. This is one of the best movies of 2023 and one of the most moving stories I’ve seen in years.
The Korean woman at the bar is Nora (Greta Lee), a playwright living in New York with her husband, the Caucasian man, Arthur (John Magaro). The Korean man is Hae Sung (Teo Yoo), who is visiting. In the film’s first chapter we see Nora and Hae Sung at age 12 living in Korea where they are friends and young sweethearts. We see their first and only date in a park before Nora’s family moves to Canada. Twelve years pass and Nora moves to New York for graduate school. Hae Sung is doing his mandatory military service. They reconnect over Facebook and video calls which both look forward to, for a time. Twelve more years pass and Nora still lives in New York and is now married to Arthur, a fellow writer. Hae Sung, now an engineer, decides to take a vacation to New York. His friends aren’t fooled. They know he is going to see Nora.
Past Lives shows a love triangle unlike any other that has been on film. This is not about romantic conflict or physical attraction; it is not concerned with sensational scenes or dramatic outbursts. In a key scene Arthur tells Nora that she and Hae Sung have a better story than their own: “Childhood sweethearts who reconnect 20 years later only to realize they were meant for each other… In the story I would be the evil white American husband standing in the way of destiny.” He is also describing a more conventional, lesser version of the film. There are no contrivances or misunderstandings that lead to familiar scenes of melodrama. These people have a connection and are trying to make sense of it; their conflict is with themselves.
Perhaps because Song’s screenplay was inspired by her own experiences–Song’s family immigrated from Korea, she became a playwright in New York, and later reconnected with a childhood friend–she took great care to keep her movie from turning into a typical Hollywood movie, or a typical indie movie. Stylistically, she finds places for artistic touches here and there while keeping the film widely accessible. She and cinematographer Shabier Kirchner keep the camera back using mostly wide and medium shots which gives us the feeling of being a fly on the wall, lucky witnesses to intimate moments. The score by Christopher Bear and Daniel Rossen, low-key and gentle just like the story and performances, perfectly underscores the emotions at play. Sometimes real art–a painting, a poem, a movie–can convey ineffable emotions that we recognize and then we feel seen and there is a small but powerful joy in being seen.
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