Past Lives
Celine Song's debut feature "Past Lives" is an incredibly powerful entry into this wistful genre, effortlessly transporting the viewer into a state of self-reflection. The story begins 24 years ago, as we are introduced to Na Young (Greta Lee) and Hae Sung (Teo Yoo), two young classmates in South Korea who walk home from school together every day. Their clearly blossoming young romance is abruptly halted as Na Young and her family immigrate to Canada. Na Young changes her name to Nora, and life moves on. 12 years later, Nora is in New York trying to make it as a writer, and Hae Sung has finished his military service. Nora sees on Facebook that Hae Sung has been looking for her, and the two eventually reconnect using FaceTime. There is clearly chemistry and some unresolved feelings between the two, but Nora puts a stop to the long-distance conversations, wanting to focus on her career and clearly seeing the impracticalities of any kind of romantic relationship with Hae Sung, who is moving to China for his own career.
The film jumps another 12 years, and Nora is still in New York as a playwright, and is married to Arthur (John Magaro). Hae Song reaches out to Nora again, as he is planning a trip to New York. The two reconnect again, struggling to contain all of their old feelings despite not actually seeing each other for 24 years.
Greta Lee and Teo Yoo have ridiculous chemistry, often not even needing to speak to create almost unbearable romantic tension. Every glance and quiet smile seem loaded with meaning and decades of undeclared desire. And yet, it's an incredibly understated movie. There are no loud exclamations of passion, no dramatic swells of string music. Nora and Hae Song are mature adults with their own lives thousands of miles apart from each other. Hae Song treats Arthur with respect and isn't here to break up their marriage, even if he did make the trip just to see Nora again. The pair just can't help but send sparks all over the room when they're together.
Hae Song also inspires a different kind of longing for Nora, as he represents her home country that she left behind. She is fully living the immigrant experience in New York, and Hae Song is a reminder of her Korean heritage. “I feel so not Korean when I’m with him,” she confesses to Arthur, struggling to reckon with her own current relationship (or lack thereof) with her culture. Hae Song and Nora's shared culture is just another bond between the two, deftly highlighted as the two talk to each other in Korean at a bar while Arthur can only sit and watch, not understanding.
The movie repeatedly interrogates the Korean concept of "In-Yun", which states that if you meet someone, no matter how briefly, it means you also met in a past life, and lovers are people who have met over and over again in their past lives. It raises the question of whether or not two people are fated to be together. Nora laughs off the concept as something Korean people just say to seduce someone, but Hae Song clearly feels more strongly about it, unable to escape the thought that he might have been fated to be with Nora, and the general malaise he feels about his life is because they are not together.
The movie culminates in one of the best closing sequences I have seen in many years, leaving most of the audience in my theater (including myself) in tears. It's a perfectly constructed release of the tension that the movie built up since the beginning, without succumbing to rom-com cliche. Song stated in interviews that the movie would fail or succeed based on the final scene, and I'm happy to say that it's hard to consider it anything but an overwhelming success. It's an incredibly assured first feature from Song (a playwright herself), and one I can only hope is recognized with major awards at the end of the year.
