REVIEW: PAST LIVES. "What if?"

What if your past true love returned?

What happened to the road not taken? And how have the paths trodden affected your journey? Are you happy?

How do you handle the emotions, the unanswered questions, the unintended consequences of the choices you've made? What if your current life is really a past life? What might that mean for the future?

In Korean culture, the concept of "destiny" or "fate" is called in-yeon. Accordingly, if you meet someone - even briefly - it means you've met in a past life, and lovers are people who have met over and over again in past lives. The importance of these connections, as well as their fragility, still run deep, returning randomly throughout time. What, then, does that mean for each of us as we navigate through life? Do we each have only one true love in our lives and, if so, how do we know them? Or, are there many more connections we may experience in our lives: past, present and future? How do we manage this possibility?

Each of these questions - and many more - are raised and assessed, but not necessarily resolved in writer/director Celine Strong's beautiful, evocative debut feature, Past Lives.

The movie opens with three people are sitting in a bar: two men, one Asian, one American; one Asian woman, all about the same age. It is 4 am. We hear other patrons whispering about them trying to guess their relationship. Who are they, and how are they related? Are the Asian man and woman a couple? Or is she with the white male, who seems disengaged from the conversation?

What does their body language reveal?

Flashback twenty-four years....

Twelve year-old school chums/rivals in late twentieth century Korea, Na Young (Greta Lee) and Hae Sung (Teo Yoo) share a quiet emotional connection and academic rivalry, but Na Young's parents (both artists), do not believe staying in Korea will allow them to fully realize their artistic freedom, so they decide to emigrate to Canada. As Na Young tells Hae Sung, "Koreans don't win the Nobel Peace Prize."

After spending a memorable afternoon together on a date arranged and chaperoned by both mothers, Na Young and Hae Sung say good-bye. The camera fades to grey...

And it is twelve years later.

Na Young, now called Nora, is an emerging playwright living in New York City. Hae Sung is finishing his tour of duty in the Korean army and has been accepted in an engineering program at university. They've had no contact since she emigrated to Canada with her parents...until Hae Sung tries to find her through social media.

Na Young responds and the two reconnect briefly via Skype chats, admitting their respective loneliness and sharing that they've missed each other. These chats continue until Nora decides she must take a break, telling Hae Sung she has accepted a writing fellowship and needs time to focus on her writing. She travels to the writing retreat and, once again, the camera fades....

It is twelve years later again, and we find Nora still in New York, now married to a writer named Arthur (John Magaro), whom she met at the retreat. We learn that Nora has stayed in touch w/Hae Sung, but that they haven't connected in several years.... until Hae Sung writes that he is coming to New York on vacation. Arthur is skeptical of Hae Sung's intentions but does not object to Nora spending time with Hae Sung since he has traveled so far to visit.

So here they are, Nora and Hae Sung: the children they were and the adults they've become. What precedes and follows their quarter of a century-long separation, is nothing short of breathtaking. Song's efficiency in storytelling does not diminish, rather - it heightens - the emotional depth and layers of their conversation, like the "mille-feuilles" that characterize in-yeon, the delicate, fragile bond that ties humans together cannot be underestimated.

Nora and Hae Sung recognize past longing, but their wistful awareness that the children they were are still present but perhaps no longer visible, has created undeniable heartbreak as they navigate adulthood. The scenes between Nora and Hae Sung, and those between Nora and Arthur, are thoughtful, honest, and probing.

Song's dialogue reminded me of Richard Linklater's brilliant "Before" trilogy with Ethan Hawke and Julie Delpy, specifically, Before Sunset (2004), when Hawke's Jesse and Delpy's Celine wander the streets of Paris as thirty-somethings, reconnecting after they first met nine years earlier. They spar a bit, flirting, tentatively checking each other out, reluctant initially to share too much and then revealing more about the years that have passed between them.

Like Hawke and Delpy, all three actors here - Lee, Yoo and Magaro - are perfectly cast in this genuine tale of modern-day kismet, newfound romance and enduring love. It's complicated, for sure, but so worth the journey of introspection and self-revelation.

I was also struck by many of the little touches that add to the film's authenticity, including one running comment about Nora's ambitions that also touches on feminism, the differences between east and west, and the way people change over time. Hae Sung reminds her that her initial rationale for emigrating to Canada was the pursuit of a Nobel Prize. When he re-connects with her on Skype he asks the now-fledging playwright if she still aspires to win the Nobel. Nora pauses, then says, "No, the Pulitzer." When they connect again in New York, he asks if she's won a Pulitzer. "No, she responds, "Maybe a Tony." A lessening yardstick for achievement? The realization of one's dreams versus the realities of life? Song doesn't offer much in the way of an answer, perhaps because Hae Sung's persistence in asking the question suggests something more about how life impacts our ambitions and our goals. We adjust... or not.

Fitting for its sometimes sullen examination of the heart, Past Lives is darkly lit. Many of scenes are indoors in closed spaces, creating a sense of claustrophobia and uneasiness: Nora's apartment and, later her Greenwich Village flat w/Arthur, are small and minimalist; the bar Hae Sung frequents in Korea is dimly lit and crowded with people; the nightclub all three wind up at in the movie's opening scene is bathed in a kind of golden glow, the voices of other patrons close enough for us to hear their whispers.

Even outdoors, the scenes take place at night or on cloudy/rainy days. There is little sunshine here, which is appropriate for the story's thought-provoking moodiness and self-discovery. Song frames each scene, each conversation in close-up which intensifies the intimacy of each word, teasing the audience's uneasiness: you feel like an interloper to a private conversation.

I left the theater confident that Past Lives is easily the best movie of 2023 I've seen so far.

But then this weekend, the NY Times ran an article called "Some of the Best Films of 2023, So Far." Appropriately, the list was short. There was no byline, only a lead sentence indicating that "our critics have selected a handful of films worth your time." But how "Are You There, God?" It's Me, Margaret could have made the cut and not Past Lives makes me question the competency and expertise of the Times' current new crop of critics. Guess "some" is the operative word in the title.

The recent popularity (critical and box office) of Asian films like Crazy Rich Asians and Everything Everywhere All At Once, plus this summer's much-hyped Joy Ride are changing the scope of images typically portrayed by Asians in film. Nonetheless, all three movies perpetuate hyperbolic stereotypes of Asians, which may be one reason why Americans are comfortable watching and laughing at them. Just as Robin Williams' over-the-top performance in The Birdcage (1996) made it easy for audiences to laugh at homosexuals and still feel a sense of open-mindedness for buying a ticket, recent movies made by and starring Asians have opted for using sweeping stereotypes to depict Asian culture.

Past Lives moves in the opposite direction, infusing the characters and the story with a common humanity first and then slowly pealing back the cultural layers that shape and define who we are. It's clearly not a mainstream popcorn movie and is clearly out of sync with contemporary cinematic counterparts' views of Asian culture. I often wonder if we have have gotten so swept up in the Marvel comic universe that genuine stories about the human condition are no longer of interest. Must we have an overabundance of visual effects and/or exaggerated, bloated caricatures in order to hold audience attention and solicit a robust box office? Has film as medium lost its ability to make us think and feel beyond our own immediate experience? I hope not. Celine Song has a lot more to say and Past Lives is just the beginning of what promises to be a long and provocative dialogue about where we come from, who we are, and how the passing of time figures into our experience.

Ah, yes. Time. I almost forgot. Past Lives is the third film I've seen in the past two weeks that examines the concept, use, value and relativity of time. But unlike Asteroid City which sees time as tangential to the lives we live, and Indiana Jones and the Dial of Destiny, which flirts with time travel, Past Lives probes the intimacy of time as we live it, reflect on it, and whether it might shape our destiny. Maybe that's not the reason most people go to the movies, though I'd argue some component of self-reflection is desirable.

The full emotional wallop of Past Lives touched me deeply, if quietly, at the movie's end. As the credits rolled, warm tears streamed down my face: not because I was sad, but because I was remembering my own past life and all the connections - big and small, brief and enduring - that have shaped who I am. La douleur exquise. Good stuff.

Coming next: Not sure yet, but Barbie and Oppenheimer are definitely on the list.