4 beautiful-reminders-that-life-goes-on out of 4
Richard Linklater is a filmmaker who understands the importance of character in relation to narrative. His films are often best-described as filmed plays, and it’s his emphasis on dialogue and character development that truly makes his movies so enjoyable. The Before trilogy represents Linklater’s earliest work with chronologically sustained filmmaking. Each film takes place over a short period of time—typically one evening—and the time between films is emblematic of the steady manner in which time moves on. His 2013 Before Midnight, presumably the final film in the trilogy, is a story about a supposedly happy, supposedly satisfied couple and the life they now lead.
Before Midnight begins with Ethan Hawke’s Jesse bidding farewell to his son. They chat at an airport gate in Greece before the boy says goodbye and walks through the metal detector. As the two speak, Linklater paints a portrait of a loving father and his equally affected son. They must say goodbye because the son lives with his mother—Jesse’s ex-wife. It’s a soft scene, with natural lighting designed to reflect Linklater’s emphasis on reality. These are real people living real lives, and that we’re allowed into their life is an honour and a pleasure.
It’s true that Before Midnight is the third film in a trilogy, but there’s no concern about missed narratives or failed character connections. Time is essential to the narrative, and to the characters, but it is a construct that is detached from the internal mechanisms of the film. The film takes place over the course of half-a-day, but as we meet new people and watch them interact with one another, we realize that these are people we’ve known our whole lives. They talk, they bicker, they worry. They concern themselves with sex, love, and marriage. When they smile, the audience feels their warmth. When they frown, the audience feels their sorrow.
Linklater is a minimalist filmmaker. His script reflects this truth. Co-written by Ethan Hawke and Julie Delpy, who play Jesse and Jesse’s wife Celine, Before Midnight is a biopsy of a married couple navigating the murky waters of love, children, and the future. They love each other, and they love their children. Celine also loves Jesse’s son—she says so, and because of her words, we believe her.
Although there is love and hope in this film, there is also conflict. When Jesse says goodbye to his son, he gets into a car with Celine. Their two daughters are asleep in the back while Jesse and Celine begin to drive to a dinner party. In a sustained long-take, Jesse and Celine talk about this moment in their lives. Celine’s received a job offer that reflects an important career path. The catch: Celine would need to commute. Jesse and Celine would see less of each other.
A cynical critic would call this scene expositional—that it’s a tedious line delivery designed to test the audience’s patience, while showcasing actor talent. The scene, however, is none of those things. Instead, it’s the same conversation that all couples have when one half is considering making a life choice that will deeply affect the other half.
At first, Jesse is supportive of Celine’s choices. The matter seems resolved. The two continue to a dinner party with their friends. Then they spend the night alone, without the kids. It’s been sometime since the parents have been able to live like they did when they were younger. When Celine’s fantasy starts to seem more like their shared reality, however, Jesse becomes wary. It no longer matters that they’re in beautiful Greece. Jesse’s neurosis overcomes him and he says what’s in his heart instead of what’s on his mind.
Hawke and Delpy are inspired. They play with each other, they work with each other, they share with each other. They are a couple and they are real. They are imperfect, but because they love one another, we know that things will work out.
Linklater seems to argue that life is a collection of moments, and that our lives are never more real than in the present. The future is uncertain and the past is a miasma of moments. The present determines who we are.
Before Midnight is a hopeful film. At first, it seems like it will never end. When it does, we’re left wanting more. This is not a weakness, but a strength; to want is to desire, and to desire is to exist.
“The Weekly Scene” began in January 2013 as a way for me to talk about movies. After three years and countless reviews, I’d like to thank The Ontarion and the readers for letting me babble, whine, gush, and write. I will be graduating in June. I vow, however, to continue this column so long as there are movies, and so long as there is room for my words in The Ontarion.