The Before Trilogy: Cinematic Experience of Romance
‘Isn’t everything we do in life a way to be loved a little more?’
— Before Sunrise
How can romance be made authentic and novel, while also entertaining? In creating the Before Trilogy, perhaps Richard Linklater mulled along these lines in order to put his romantic vision to test. The multi-layered relationship of Jesse and Céline portrayed in these films, adds a new dimension to the otherwise hackneyed, conventional portrayal of love on-screen.
The trilogy critiques the meaning of loving and being loved by exploring time, memory, individual freedom and responsibilities which are part and parcel of the canvas of romantic life.
We first encounter Jesse and Céline in Before Sunrise (1995) meeting in a train as strangers. Jessie is on his way to Vienna to board a flight back to the United States. Céline just visited her grandmother and is returning back to Paris for her studies. After a brief conversation, Jesse persuades her that they should get to know each other some more as he wishes to keep talking with her. They decide to disembark and spend one day together in Vienna, roaming the streets of the city before parting and going their separate ways.
Céline’s seemingly idealistic view of the world disarms Jesse’s feigned skepticism. They seem to be able to readily and organically take up any topic on their plate; be it relationships, intimacy, art and even global issues, and add their unique magic of candor and philosophy to their discussions.
Caught in the throes of youthful optimism and conversational fancifulness, they make the most out of their limited time, ending up enchanting each other. We see the two strangers in a foreign land, ambling through its quaint and cosmopolitan cityscape and rambling about love and life in a natural, free-flowing manner.
Linklater’s camera takes a backseat. He relies on long takes to let his characters feel organic and take their time, letting the viewer know them better, without the urgency of unnecessary drama, or an overwhelming climactic build.
By the end of the film, a visceral sense of farewell sets in.
Jesse and Céline are sad and disappointed as the prospect of the new sunrise signals the tolling of parting bells. Wishing to continue their warm and hopeful conversations, but equally hoping to keep the enchantment of the short period of time spent together alive and special, they exchange no contact details (not even phone numbers). They promise to meet each other again at the same place after six months in December.
Like Linklater’s film Boyhood (2014), shot over a period of twelve years, we meet Jesse and Celine in Before Sunset (2004) after nine years in Paris, rethinking their youthful, bygone encounter with a sense of longing and understated wonder. They could not meet up earlier as planned, and walk into each other after such a long gap.
Jesse has turned their past, starry-eyed meeting into a novel and Céline seems to feel both embarrassed and flattered by it. Time and circumstances have tempered their romantic vision with a palpable maturity. Although neither is truly happy.
Jesse is caught in an unhappy marriage, with a kid and Céline, due to several heartbreaks, reveals, she can no longer feel anything. She harps back to their shared memory, lost in the shadows of time, teary-eyed and angry, blaming him for taking away all her romanticism, leaving her dry and hollow.
Like the previous film, this one too uses the frame of a time-bound set of scenes, as Jesse is to catch an evening flight and must make the best use of the handful of hours to connect with Céline. As the story draws to a close, we see that their mutual attraction hasn’t receded as she sings him a song, hinting at their past encounter.
Jesse is charmed, not sure if he wishes to leave or stay. The viewer is left with the nagging question — are they going to get back together this time?
The not so simple answers of marital consummation are raised in the (tentative?) final film. In Before Midnight (2013) Jesse and Céline are together, with twin daughters conceived on their last meeting in Paris.
They are now realistic, with wrinkles and sagging skin, their youthful exuberance ebbing away with every passing day. Romance is certainly present, but not without the ups and downs, the compromises and the difficulties of sustaining a relationship.
Jesse has divorced his earlier wife but cannot eschew the responsibilities of fatherhood, wondering if he is able to give enough time to his son from his last marriage. Céline worries being weighed down by family issues so much so that focusing on her career seems difficult. They are on vacation in the Greek Peloponnese peninsula. But in spite of the breathtaking scenery and the cumulative romantic charm accrued through their previous films, this one is more a meditation on sustaining love after it has been consummated, than love per se.
Again, the magical chemistry rests on their communicative strength as Jesse and Céline close in on their past, alleged infidelities and the gnawing concern with ageing. With work and romance to juggle, along with the responsibilities of parenthood, they are no longer the naïve, starry-eyed lovers buried in thoughts about possibilities of the future.
There is cynicism and doubt, a tiredness of being together and an understandable irritation of being constantly close. If Céline expects a serious response, Jesse cracks a joke. Yet their bond overcomes the wear and tear of time. They have learnt by now that love takes more than simply talking and sharing ideas about romance. It needs constant engagement with one’s partner, even if one knows the other’s faults, all too clearly.
The simple reason the Before Trilogy works is because it has done its homework of representing the shades of love by being more bothered about how couples could perhaps think and experience romance, heartbreak and fulfillment (or disillusionment) in real life than borrowing tried and tested models of reel life encounters. Ethan Hawke and Julie Delpy who play Jesse and Celine respectively, have remarked how getting inside the skin of their characters meant they had to forego the idea of conventional acting tropes. The second they became aware of their acting, they had to start all over again.
The trilogy may not woo love-stricken viewers who go to the theatre to find their hearts race with the excitement and passion of overwhelming drama and cheap thrills. It certainly sits well with those that do not simply think of films as a medium of escape, a time-pass; but as a means to reflect on one’s own off-screen, lived experiences through the labor of love, Jesse and Celine engages in, on-screen.
© Kaustabh Kashyap
