Mastery of tension

We wanted to see Past Lives when we saw the trailer at the Michigan Theater, but it didn't end up meeting our usual schedule. I don't recall if it was because it simply wasn't showing on Tuesdays or if showtimes were too early for us to make it. I remember thinking that it looked at first glance like a standard "long lost relationship" story, but there was something subversively attractive about it that elevated it beyond what I would have normally dismissed as boilerplate. With the recent dearth of interesting films at the two theaters, we decided to take a chance on this one on Apple TV+ and I'm really glad we did, because it was anything but bog standard and is one of the better films we've seen this year.

There's an art to cinematic romance that goes beyond the dreamy quality that many people associate with it. It's not just about living out fantasies. Sometimes it's about dealing with the emotions that are known to all of us and inherent to the human condition. The ability to display that is an art in and of itself because many will associate those presentations with sappiness or "chick flicks", but when you can convey real anguish and uncertainty and restraint, it creates a tension on the screen that is the essential hallmark of storytelling. It's what keeps your viewer glued to the screen. They want to find out what happens next, whether it's the predictable (Love conquers all!) or the not so much (Real life...) This film has that tension from beginning to end. From the moment we first see 12-year-old Nora (Greta Lee) and Hae Sung (Teo Yoo), we can feel the bond between them and their desire to immerse themselves completely in it. But we can also feel the restraint (the uncertainty of youth; the conflicting paths of life; the attachments to others) that they have to exercise to keep themselves from engaging in that deepest desire. It's a difficult task to sell that tension without overselling it to the point of melodrama and both Lee and Yoo, as well as writer-director, Celine Song, pull it off with aplomb.

Indeed, some of the best moments of the film are those without dialogue or obvious action, but which are instead simply studies of the two leads as their faces betray everything they want and everything they're containing as they try to navigate their changing circumstances from 12 to 24 to 36. I've often said that visual storytelling is often a lost art in modern filmmaking but Song's pacing and direction have it down. That extends to the sets and costuming, as well. There's nothing overly remarkable about any of the backgrounds or apartments or restaurants. They all seem everyday and normal because this situation is also everyday and normal, but no less important for being so. Nothing that you see detracts from the focus on the characters and the emotions that they're alternately struggling to contain and desperate to express. It's an extraordinary feeling when you can understand why it would be gratifying to some degree to see these two people finally get to interact in the way that they both want, but would also be a hindrance to the telling of a genuinely good story if they tipped over that edge. Again, that tension is what separates the film from the bog standard and it had to be maintained. The fact that much of the story was drawn from Song's own life probably made it that much easier to tell.

Some mention also has to go to Nora's husband, Arthur, played by John Magaro, who some might consider the truly tragic character in this drama, as he's the innocent bystander in this drawn out collision. He cogently identifies himself as the "White bad guy" in this romantic scenario when all he's trying to do is continue to love the woman that he's been married to for a decade. You feel for him at least as much as the two leads for knowing that his wife may still be bonded at the soul, as it were, to another person. But she also points out that she made the choice to have this life and she's choosing to spend it with him. It's that choice that kept Nora and Hae Sung apart the first time they rediscovered each other, so he's a conscious inclusion. But, of course, the genuine desire is written on Nora's face through the final third of the film, whether Arthur is present or not. In the end, it's a great film in the path of favorites of mine like Blue is the Warmest Color, because it's a film about humans and how we react to the world and the people around us. Highly recommended for a watch and a re-watch, for that matter.