The "Before" Trilogy

[StevePulaski]

Before Sunrise (1995)
Directed by: Richard Linklater

Julie Delpy and Ethan Hawke.

Rating: ★★★½

The kind of connection the two lead characters in Before Sunrise merit is the kind of connection I've only managed to achieve a few times in my life; it's the connection with someone who is a complete stranger, but as soon as you meet him, your wall of protection and tact almost completely crumbles. You feel compelled to share personal information with this stranger, deep thoughts that no one other than you have pondered or heard, and talk until your throat is raw about everything you can think of in that given moment. Your become verbally diuretic, and after it's over, you're upset that the conversation has ended, but you've achieved a state of personal tranquility thanks to a release of all that was on your mind that you are at a sort of bliss. It's a strange thing to articulate, and those who have had that kind of connection know precisely what I'm talking about. To those who can't pinpoint that kind of connection (if you have to think hard about it, you've probably never had one), you're in for one soon.

Richard Linklater's Before Sunrise, which kickstarted a trilogy that spanned the course of three separate decades and analyzed Linklater's favorite cinematic idea, time, is an ode to that kind of comfortable, life-affirming connection we all should experience. Linklater thankfully devotes an entire film to that kind of connection, making a film entirely focused on characters rather than the events, the location, or the supporting characters surrounding them. It's as if Linklater got fed up at watching interesting characters, their motivations and their potentials, in other films squandered so other, more trivial matters could be attended to. In Before Sunrise, he strips down everything to two central characters and their views on a variety of different issues, philosophical ideas, and past experiences.

Those two characters are Jesse and Céline (Ethan Hawke and Julie Delpy), who, from the moment they meet on a train-car from Budapest heading to Vienna, they reveal personal details and personal opinions on love, romance, and just their general upbringings. When Jesse's stop at Vienna finally rolls around, he convinces Céline to hop off the train with him, to which she throws caution to the wind and obliges. The two divulge in a great deal of personal matters together; he is a romantic soul masquerading as a cynic after breaking up with his girlfriend, the whole reason he's in Vienna in the first place, and she has fallen before and is cautious about doing so again. The two, however, recognize their separate agendas and treat this night as their one and only encounter, leading them to get personal and loquacious with one-another while walking through the entire city.

As stated, Linklater strips this film back a plethora of layers to simply being about these two characters. Linklater even limits pictorial distractions, as the two characters walking through the city of Vienna leaves for a great deal of possibility to stumble upon something distracting. That occurs, if I remember correctly, once in the film, and it's incorporated so well into the discussion and the flow that you're bound to miss it. It's no lie that Linklater has seriously found himself committed to making this project about this simple yet unbelievably affecting kind of connection, which, in this case, transcends personal bounds into becoming romantic, leading the characters to question how they feel and how they want to proceed.

Hawke and Delpy, I feel, aren't doing much acting here; part of me feels they're conveying their own kind of presences to one another and that there's little effort required on their part to change who they are or become something they are not. The film also bears the necessary pacing element of being lax and carefree, never rushing these characters onto the next setup nor making them take detours for comedy's sake. This is Linklater driving the truck down a path that has many different routes and he chooses the most direct route, and simultaneously, the most beautiful and mystifying.

Before Sunrise beautifully illustrates the power of human connection through two strong performers and a writer/director obsessed with the impact and idea of time and the realism and the aforementioned kind of connection. Here, he displays his affinity and talent for both through a film that is equal parts contemplative in a philosophical sense and also incredibly beautiful on a human scale. This is a romantic comedy for people who have grown sick and tired of falsified, picturesque romantic comedies and hunger for something genuine, real, and lasting, much like the impact of these characters' relationship with one another in the film.

Starring: Ethan Hawke and Julie Delpy. Directed by: Richard Linklater.

[StevePulaski]

Before Sunset (2004)
Directed by: Richard Linklater

Rating: ★★★★

Initially, I had planned to watch Richard Linklater's Before trilogy in three days, watching one film after another. However, upon viewing Before Sunrise, along with writing the review, I took note that this trilogy was about time, time progression, and how people respond with being in company with one another for either an extended period of time or, in contrast, a relatively short period of time sporadically. I thought in order to make the trilogy bear a wee bit more relevance and realism for me, as a viewer, seeing as impatiently waiting nine years between each film to see them in theaters was an option I missed, I'd distance each film by about two weeks (and with the amount of films I watch in between, there would hopefully be little obsessing over what happens to the characters in between that time). My confession to you, the reader, is that it took all of my strength not to watch Before Sunset sooner than I had scheduled it; Before Sunrise is the kind of film that blindsides you so greatly, and tickles your human spirit so tenderly, that when it's over, knowing there's more films of the like makes you want to seek those others out immediately. Unfortunately, I had to exercise some restraint in the process to at least add some personal realism to this series; like I was impatiently waiting with these characters to see one another again.

Before Sunset picks up exactly nine years after the events of Before Sunrise, which focused on an American man named Jesse (Ethan Hawke) and a Frenchwoman named Céline (Julie Delpy) met aboard a train in Vienna and spent the entire day roaming and conversing through the city, agreeing to meet nine years later in the same place. Jesse is back overseas, however, this time in Paris, doing a book tour for the novel he wrote about his encounter with Céline and how it changed his life. During the book tour, he runs into Céline, shocked as can be, as he recalls how their original meeting didn't go as scheduled because she presumably forgot about their agreement to meet. It turns out, a personal tragedy occurred in Céline's life, making her unable to meet up with him. Now, however, they are together and spend a brief but glorious day in Paris together, again, roaming the streets talking about philosophy, personal happiness, their own lives, their own musings, and so forth, all captured under the beautiful streets and attractions that Paris has to offer.

Hawke and Delpy have officially made themselves comfortable in the roles of Jesse and Céline. In this effort, they seem more relaxed with one another, especially Hawke, who has made his character assume more of a pleasantly comic role, but never to any particular fault. Delpy's character, on the other hand, has grown more cynical to the idea of love and attraction, remarking how the past two guys she dated wound up breaking up with her and finding love immediately following the break up. "Why couldn't they ask me to marry them?," she asks Jesse, in a crying fit in a taxi, "I would've said 'no,' but the least they could've done was ask."

Jesse, on the other hand, is married with a kid, and breathlessly doing a handful of book tours. He's not happy, surprisingly enough, but just passively content with his life. He admits his marriage isn't provided with the romantic/fairy-tale idealism that he's madly in love with the person he sleeps with every day, but that he respects, cares for, and trusts his wife as a person, which, he believes, is what it comes down to ultimately. However, any thinking person can see what Jesse and Céline share is true love. After nine years of no contact, and not even knowing each others last names of full backgrounds, the two can assimilate back into a particular environment and pick up a conversation that's laid dormant for nine years as if it was just discussed on the previous day. On top of that, it's important to note how comfortable the two souls are around one another, sharing personal opinions and diving into past experiences in a way that only happens with one other person once in a blue moon. If you can recall one experience you've had with another person where you and them divulged personal details with one another because you felt explicitly comfortable and safe in their presence, you are an incredibly lucky soul. If you can hold on to that, you're an even more fortunate person.

Before Sunset, above all, is a continuation of Linklater's fascination and study of time and human interaction. He has constructed two very interesting and complex characters and has given them the ability to reconnect with one another every nine years. With that, he toys with settings, ideas, and philosophies, and essentially uses these two souls to communicate thoughts and ideas about how we interact and how times heals, impacts, and effects all of us, especially our relationships, in different ways. Before Sunset is a beautiful continuation; a love-letter and joyous appreciation for the human spirit, with two great actors even more adjusted and oriented to their roles than ever before, leaving for seventy-seven minutes of rich and potent dialog. If you don't extract something from this film, or feel something, I may need to check you for a pulse.

Starring: Ethan Hawke and Julie Delpy. Directed by: Richard Linklater.

[StevePulaski]

Before Midnight (2013)
Directed by: Richard Linklater

Rating: ★★★★

The nearly-month long period of time I have been indulging in Richard Linklater's utterly remarkable Before trilogy has not only made me more observant on fabled ideas such as life, love, and romance, but it has made me appreciate human connection and relationships more than I have in the past. I've always looked to connect and strike up real, meaningful relationships with those that I've met, but Linklater's Before trilogy has really made me analyze the beauty of the progression of relationships and, often, how feelings for someone can change for both the positive and the negative. It's the kind of film that puts a grandiose idea into perspective by showing you an application, giving you a representation of ideas that only existed as passing thoughts in your head.

The original Before Sunrise was a terrific film, cutesy in the best possible way, showing a meet-cute between two young, idealistic souls who feel as if the possibilities of the world are at their fingertips and their connection is one of the many wonderful things in store for them during their lives. It saw Ethan Hawke and Julie Delpy as actors settling into one of the most elaborate roles in their acting careers thus far and saw them bringing their characters to life one poetic musing on life at a time. Before Sunset caught not only the two performers in a more confident, assured state of mind, but their characters in a place of humble disillusionment. Both quietly feared that their idealism was slipping through their fingertips, which were once seemingly instant sensors to the motor of the world, but they still remained generally optimistic in tone and were pleasantly introspective about themselves. Only one scene saw Delpy's Céline lash out at Hawke's Jesse and that momentarily made the audience uncomfortable.

Before Midnight shows Jesse and Céline exhausted from the first frame. We see Jesse walking with his son Henry (Seamus Davey-Fitzpatrick) to his flight, as he is about to fly from Greece, who is now living in Paris, back home to his mother, Jesse's now ex-wife, in Chicago. We see Jesse, clearly tired and worn, no longer bearing that youthful idealism he carried so near and dear to him in Sunrise and within arm's reach in Sunset. He has published two books, is tossing around an elaborate, transient idea for the third one, and maintaining a relationship with his love Céline and their two twin daughters. A dinner with friends turns into an outing where low-key but evident animosity is bread between the value of what Jesse does as a man versus what Céline does as a women. He comments about her need to shortchange their relationship together, and she remarks how his writer complex makes him more attracted to bimbos than women he can hold a conversation with.

The two roam the streets of Greece in a manner that echoes how they used to roam around large, spacious cities with no care in the world and nothing immediate on their mind. They reminisce and fondly recall of old circumstances together and the elephant issue at hand; Jesse wants to be with Henry during the crucial years of high school, which would involve him and Céline moving to Chicago because Henry moving to Paris is not an option. Céline doesn't want to do this because her environmental action has just landed her a dream job that requires work in Paris, and the two have clearly been bickering about this plan for quite some time, specifically, the few days after Henry leaves Jesse to return home to his mother.

Most of the third act (about a good thirty-five minutes) takes place in a Greek hotel room, with Jesse and Céline arguing with one another about their plans for Henry, the expected gender roles of both of them, the fact that one shortchanges the other, and just life situations in general. Linklater perfectly executes these scenes so they're not overblown theatrics fogging up human behavior (he exercised such great restraint when profiling Mason's alcoholic stepfather in Boyhood). It's one of the most, if not the most, realistic argument I've seen portrayed on film, effectively achieving a conversational rhythm that can either burn out or flare up depending on the impact of a statement one person says to another. Yet after spending three films with these characters, watching them fall madly in love with one another and engage in so many romantic, thoughtful encounters, watching them argue is the equivalent of seeing your parents argue when you're a kid. It's awkward, uncomfortable, you feel like taking sides, you occasionally shout back on complete impulse, and the whole affair leaves you sad inside.

Make no mistake, however; this long, slowburn scene is the epitome of the Before trilogy, alongside Jesse and Céline's first encounter on a train to Vienna. It indicates that this was a love that was best attended to in small increments rather than long term commitment (or is all love essentially like that?). Jesse and Céline have spent a great deal of time together, know each other by heart, and are growing restless of the weaker features of one another. Perhaps if they kept their "nine year" commitment in tact from their first meeting, maybe they would've gone on to have a stronger love for one another? But wouldn't they still feel like they're missing something or someone in their lives?

Linklater has been quietly addressing these concepts of love and its direct and indirect effects on a person with this trilogy, as well as detailing the simple, inevitable fact that time marches on. At the core of all the intellectual talk, writer complexes, gender role discussions, and thoughtful musings on existentialism, all of which incredibly fascinating and thought-provoking by the way, Linklater's Before trilogy illustrates the common idea of how time marches on without any of us being able to stop it. We are at the mercy of a mortal clock that we cannot see and are unaware of what time it bears; we keep going, either fulfilling obligations or going off the beaten path, hoping we can fulfill all of our desires, needs, wants, and maybe obtain a little happiness on the side, before the clock strikes its final moment and we die.

Before Midnight is as rich of a testament to the human spirit as its predecessors, closing one of the most beautiful trilogies I've ever seen committed to film. Watching these three films has been my emotional movie event of the season, and which each passing installment I'm reminded more and more of why I not only praise Linklater for his ability to commit abstract concepts and relatable characters to film, but film's ability to connect, resonate, and deeply attend to the aforementioned human spirit. The human spirit, to me, is what makes us uniquely human; our ability to thoughtfully communicate, analyze, and impact the world and its features in a way that no other species can do. The spirit bears the emotional element of human beings too, and our ability to articulate those emotions to those around us in a variety of different ways. The entire Before trilogy is such a tender, affectionate handling of this concept through simplicity itself, so much so that if I encounter someone who doesn't understand the films, or find the beauty in them, all that can simply be said is "don't think, just watch."

Starring: Ethan Hawke and Julie Delpy. Directed by: Richard Linklater.