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Tuesday, June 11, 2013

Before Midnight review: Love in the 21st Century

WordMaster


            More than 18 years ago, Ethan Hawke asked Julie Delpy to get off a train with him in Vienna and unknowingly set off perhaps the most unconventional franchise of all time, a story about two bright, pensive, hopelessly idealistic youths who fall in love and talk and talk. And talk. During their first night together, Jesse and Celine discussed everything from their parents to religion to the meaning of life, and their meandering conversations imbued what could have been the epitome of arthouse pretentiousness with an endearing authenticity. By itself, Before Sunrise would still have been a sweet, thoughtful romance that accurately captured the mood of a certain generation both empowered and trapped by its own promise, but with his decision to continue Jesse and Celine’s story beyond the moment when she boards the train without him, writer-director Richard Linklater has crafted something special: a romance unflinching in its honesty yet delightfully free of cynicism.

            Before Midnight, the third installment in the series, is also perhaps the best. On the surface, it may not seem much different from the usual marriage-in-crisis drama a la Blue Valentine, Rabbit Hole or Revolutionary Road, but whereas those movies plunge headlong into the depths of tragedy and despair, Before Midnight lets the tension simmer just beneath the surface so that when it finally, inevitably culminates in a heated argument, the outburst of emotion feels not harrowing but simply heartbreaking. It helps that after Before Sunrise and Before Sunset, we’ve spent so much time with Jesse and Celine that their relationship feels utterly real – neither a fairy-tale nor a nightmare but so much in between, the accumulation of countless shared memories, experiences, compromises, hopes and regrets. All the more impressive is Linklater’s ability to invite us into his characters’ minds, to share their secrets, motives and histories, without resorting to contrived exposition or shattering the illusion that we are watching actual people live their lives, rather than characters subject to a fixed narrative. The dialogue unfolds with such invigorating ease that it’s easy to forget that every word, tangent and nuance was meticulously scripted, yet even the most banal snippets resonate with implicit meaning. In most hands, the film’s leisurely pace and fluid structure would result in a tedious, unfocused mess, but for Linklater, it proves liberating, allowing each scene to breathe.



            As the central lovers, Hawke and Delpy are as charming as ever. They exchange witty, thoughtful banter with the spontaneity of expert improvisers, their chemistry a lively ballet of glances, gestures and half-sincere responses. However, as enjoyable as it is to watch them joke and reminisce with each other, the actors (and, by extension, their characters) are most mesmerizing when they let beads of discontent, frustration and resentment seep through the amiable façade of their relationship. During the climactic argument, they don’t lob arbitrary insults and retorts at each other; you can see the subtle shifts in their facial expressions as they attempt to maintain some semblance of civility while navigating the whirlwind of emotions, alternately rationalizing, attacking and defending. When Jesse insists to Celine that he loves her, and Hawke’s voice, barely above a whisper, strains with anger and desperation, it’s like a knife to the gut.

            It would be disingenuous to say Before Midnight completely avoids the usual clichés associated with romance films. After all, like virtually all entries in the genre, it follows the trials and tribulations of two attractive, smart, privileged (not to mention white) people who regularly attend dinner parties and go on expensive family vacations to remote, scenic areas; as Jesse points out, much to Celine’s irritation, they live in Paris. However, what differentiates Jesse and Celine from, say, the characters in Friends with Kids, a movie that manages to combine the sappy predictability of mainstream rom-coms with the even-more-irritating pretentiousness of indie rom-coms, is that the former are aware of how fortunate – and flawed they are. The movie doesn’t try to ignore the reality of their world, which is also ours, by pretending that Jesse and Celine exist in a fantasyland free from poverty, war and injustice. Linklater, Hawke and Delpy know that, while lots of people can identify with the film and its characters, it is still primarily aimed toward a certain demographic or, more specifically, a certain generation. From the start, the Before series has done a terrific job conveying the sense of infinite possibility mixed with infinite loneliness that defined the past two decades, as technology simultaneously shrank the world and complicated it, alerting individuals to the inconsequentiality of their existence. Arguably more than love, Before Midnight is fascinated by our constantly, rapidly evolving society and the effects of politics, the media and social expectations on contemporary life. By daring to engage with the real world (without, it must be noted, ever becoming belligerent or didactic), the film assumes a quiet, intimate timeliness.

            Of course, though, this is also a film about love and its many, unalike forms. In our modern Age of Extremes, people tend to view romance either as noble and pure, the eternal salvation of all mankind, or as maudlin and shallow, an artificial comfort for those of us naïve enough to believe life is anything but a long, dreary, futile march toward oblivion. But refreshingly, Before Midnight refuses to accept such black-and-white thinking, instead showing love in all its messy, volatile beauty. The middle-aged parents of twins depicted here are a far cry from the young, whimsical lovebirds from Before Sunrise, their once-idyllic relationship gradually decaying into a cycle of quarrels, grudges and bottled-up grievances, yet even when Jesse and Celine are at each other’s throats, the spark between them never entirely fades. At the end, Linklater leaves us with a feeling of uncertainty but also of hope: love may be difficult and elusive, even painful at times, but it’s real, and it’s worth it.









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