‘Past Lives’ Review and Analysis — In Yun, Unfound Closures and Lingering What Ifs
‘Past Lives’ Review and Analysis — In Yun, Unfound Closures and Lingering What Ifs
Writer/Director: Celine Song
Starring: Greta Lee, Teo Yoo, John Magaro
Written By: Leah Khor
‘Past Lives’ — The remarkable debut by playwright Celine Song, intricately weaves the threads of regret, longing and lingering ‘what ifs’, painting a tapestry of emotions and the discovery of unfound closures through her distinctive vision. Supported by subdued yet powerful performances and poignant writing, this film stands as an ode to both the immigrant experience and the universal experience of yearning. Premiered at the Sundance Film Festival in 2023, ‘Past Lives’ not only captures hearts but also resonates as a contemplative exploration of human connection.
In recent years, tales that delve into complex yet unbreakable bonds that form amidst the daily mundane have resonated deeply with various audiences. These narratives mirror the inevitable entanglements we often willingly embrace, navigating the delicate balance between chance and choice. ‘Past Lives’ masterfully crafts a narrative that traverses time, tracing the trajectories of two individuals weaving in and out of each other’s lives from the innocence of puppy love to a farewell embrace in their thirties. Anchored in the concept that ‘right person, wrong time’ is an inescapable facet of existence, the film delicately navigates the convergence of past and present. By embracing the complexities of missed chances and the resonance of pivotal choices, the movie offers a gut-wrenching cinematic experience that leaves a lasting imprint on the heart. Song’s storytelling not only marks her ascent but also enriches the cinematic landscape with its exploration of romance’s dance with time and the lingering possibilities that define our existence.
The film centers on Nora (played as an adult by a subtle and stellar Greta Lee) and a boy from her childhood (Teo Yoo). They’re schoolmates in the city of Seoul, expressing fondness through sketching on the bare hands of the other person. “I will probably marry him” exclaims the young Nora to her amused mother. Soon after the movie opens, the children are walking side-by-side to the neighborhood. A moment etched with significance as Nora, then known as Na Young, wrestles with tears upon learning Hae Sung has overtaken her in class. This early scene not only establishes her fervent competitive spirit but also foreshadows its enduring impact on their complex relationship. He called her a crybaby, yet comforting her while impeccably intrigued by her ambitions. She will continue her nature for the rest of her life, while he will remain in awe of her on the sidelines. Gradually, her passion brings her to New York City, where she resides with her writer husband, Arthur (John Magaro). The two have a tender, endearing relationship, where she’s seen doing coffee runs for his book signings and he picks her up from across the busy streets. When Hae Sung reenters Nora’s life with a physical and authentic presence, the dynamic of all relationships among the three are poised to undergo a transformative trial.
In an interview with LA Times, Song casts an intimate light on how her personal life has intertwined with Nora’s, providing the backbone of the character which we follow throughout the movie. Born and raised in South Korea, Song, whose birth name is Ha Young, inspires the birth name of Nora — Na Young. The director and character comes hand in hand with parallel career aspirations in New York City, and a relationship with a partner in the same industry — Song’s long term partner is Justin Kuritzkes, the screenwriter of the upcoming Luca Guadagnino film, ‘Challengers’. This tender affinity between the director and her creation serves as a linchpin for the film’s authenticity, magnified impeccably through Greta Lee’s sterling portrayal.
The fascination towards Nora’s character roots from her nonchalant facade that belies rich emotions. As Hae Sung, her cinematic counterpart, unabashedly wears his heart on his sleeve during their reunion, Nora’s demeanor exudes an ethereal calmness, seemingly untouched by the prospect of reconciliation. In her steadiness, she subtly articulates that their divergent paths may have been preordained. Greta Lee’s nuanced performance meticulously constructs this serene veneer in thirtysomething Nora, effectively masking the tempestuous currents roiling within. The film’s artistry culminates in a climatic scene wherein Nora collapses into Arthur’s embrace, tears streaming down her face as she utters “I’m sorry”. This apology remains tantalizingly open-ended: What is she precisely sorry for? Was it on behalf of the concealed hesitations or an expression of profound remorse for entertaining the shadowy corridors of what ifs?
Nora’s “I’m Sorry”
There is no way to tell the emotion that has overflown within her, but there’s something so precious and hidden that I personally attained was incredibly intentional, and could perhaps justify the apology that Arthur received at the end. For viewers of the main trailer, we are led to believe Hae Sung and Nora had never truly known each other deeply until they reunited in New York City, making the possibility of them rekindling their connection seem less likely. After all, it’s rare for puppy love to evolve into something enduring; personalities evolve over the years.
However, when the story unfolds with that expectation in mind, we are confronted with the truth that these two souls have reunited virtually twelve years after their initial parting. We are shown their twenties, where Nora is a fresh New Yorker, and Hae Sung takes the engineering path in Seoul. Through their daily Skype calls, they rebridge a connection that has withstood the test of time. Yet, distance becomes an insurmountable barrier, leading to gut-wrenching and realistic moments of miscommunication and heartache displayed in clever use of montages.
When Hae Sung conveys that he would not be visiting New York anytime soon, it becomes Nora’s breaking point. It was becoming more obvious that her desire to meet Hae Sung is slowly overtaking her passion to pursue her writing career. She yearns for both things terribly, so she makes a choice out of practicality, even if it comes at the expense of something true. This relates back to the line that Hae Sung mentions later in the movie, “You had to leave because you’re you. And the reason I liked you is because you’re you. And who you are is someone who leaves”. A two-minute, wonderfully directed scene of the two putting a pause on their connection has undoubtedly left a profound emotional imprint on audiences. At the end of the conversation, Hae Sung asked Nora a question, which she couldn’t bring herself up to answer — “Were we dating or something?” The call concludes with a heartfelt goodbye, sealing their fate to remain apart for another twelve years.
These poignant scenes portraying their twenties shed light on why exactly ‘Past Lives’ is a heartbreaking tale — because they were compatible. Not just as children, but fully-fledged adults with vast distances that separated them. Their personalities seamlessly meshed, prompting the question: if Hae Sung had boarded that flight to New York when they were both single, might they have ended up together? These are, of course, mere conjectures, but the tantalizing possibility of such an alternate reality existing within their universe cuts to the core of the audience. It grants us the opportunity to envision a scenario where Nora might never have embarked on her writer’s retreat had Hae Sung been in the bustling streets of New York City.
One could only surmise that her choked-up demeanor was a silent acknowledgment of this truth and an homage to the crybaby she once was. In the scene when Arthur inquired about Hae Sung as they’re both getting ready for bed, he discovered a facet of his wife’s past: the fact that she had been a crybaby as a child, a detail that Hae Sung knew for years, but new to him. Therefore, when adult Nora cried for the first time before the audiences, her vulnerability mirrored that of a child losing something dear. In her heartfelt apology to Arthur, it was as if she was seeking forgiveness for unveiling that long-buried fragment of her childhood self.
Answering What Ifs with In-Yun
What if I was ready to commit to him? Would life have been different? What if I took a plane to see her instead? Will we be married by now? — What ifs, the cruelest musings that creep into our minds, particularly late at night after a drink or two. Song deftly toys around with what ifs, making it an ever-present undertone of the film.
Even as someone in a content and happy relationship, surprisingly, the what ifs cross my mind more than I could have imagined. Before this relationship, there was an unexplored love in my life, one that was pushed aside and never had the chance to bloom into a meaningful relationship. This realization gradually became a wellspring of inspiration, igniting my creativity. It’s not an indication of dissatisfaction with the person I’m with, but rather the curiosity about what might have been. After watching Past Lives, I’ve gained a valuable takeaway: sometimes, we ponder our what ifs not because we’re unhappy, but because they’re closures that we’ll never find. What ifs oftentimes stem from unexplored possibilities. That’s why there’s no way to determine if those paths would have led us to something better or worse. There’s never going to be a closure that helps us cope, and that’s why we ponder.
Although Nora chose to stay with Arthur in New York City, Hae Sung will forever remain a part of her what ifs. He will gently drift through her thoughts from time to time, but that’s just the way things go. Such is the nature of existence — it’s just one life. Song, being the sentimental director that she is, captures this notion, and introduces the concept of In Yun as a consolation for this profoundly melancholic truth.
In Yun, a term denoting fate or providence in Korean, carries with it an interesting saying. It suggests that if two people accidentally brush their clothes while walking on the streets, they are something to each other in their past lives. In Yun stands as the remaining fabric of their past connection, casting its shadow in the present, imparting a sacred significance to all chance encounters in our lives. We hear from Nora that it takes 8000 layers of In Yun for two people to endure a lifetime together. But how does this bring solace to romances that never blossomed?
In a way, it offers the idea that two souls, though destined not to be eternal companions, shared some threads of In Yun. Even though it wasn’t enough to last forever, being part of something beautiful offers a modicum of solace — that their crossing of paths was fated, rooted in their past lives, destined to continue into their next. While it may not be the closure we yearn for, it’s a bittersweet revelation that Song skillfully conveys throughout the film, imbuing all those who pass through our lives with a sense of monumental importance.
You Dream In A Language I Don’t Understand
In an intimate moment shared between Arthur and Nora, a revelation surfaces: she only speaks Korean in her dreams. This conversation is steeped in Arthur’s feelings of inadequacy compared to the enigmatic figure of Hae Sung — a man he’s never met, yet hears so much praise about. Through the film, we witness Arthur as a genuinely caring husband, learning Korean for Nora and picking her up from work. John Magaro and Greta Lee skillfully portray a husband and wife with a sweet chemistry.
When Nora is notified of this, it astonishes her to realize that her husband’s efforts to learn the language were driven by a desire to understand her, to connect with that elusive part of her in her dreams. She finds it endearing, and gradually, he too comes to see the humor in it. However, he eventually admits feeling as though his love pales in comparison, as there’s a realm within her he cannot reach. Nora reassures him with her declaration of love, a sentiment that rings true. Yet, it’s an undeniable truth that within each of us, there exist territories our partners may never traverse.
In a film that weaves past and present together so intricately, one can’t help but ponder the underlying metaphor this scene offers. From this exchange, I see it as Song’s portrayal of the reality of relationships. While love is often idealized as all-encompassing and entirely transparent, Song reminds us that reality can be quite different. Our partners are individuals with their own histories, with chapters we’ll never experience alongside them. Though it may seem harsh, it prompts us to look beyond these narratives, and instead, to focus on the present and future.
Nora’s past is interwoven with her Korean heritage, an identity manifests itself solely in her dreams. Even though Hae Sung could access that part of her, unlike Arthur,
she ultimately chose the grounded path — the life with her husband, because the present holds greater sway to her heart. Arthur is the source of her solace in her real life and the pillar to her passion, which is why she stayed. It’s also remarkably fascinating that as we dissect the film’s scenes, we come to realize that Nora’s choice was, in fact, remarkably evident all along.
During my research for this review, I came across exciting news: Celine Song is set to grace the screen once again with her upcoming feature film, ‘Materialists,’ which will also be distributed by A24. While the plot is currently under wraps, given the acclaim for ‘Past Lives’, we can only anticipate another notable movie with such an intriguing title.
For those keen on exploring more media that delves into intimate and complex relationships,, I highly recommend Hulu’s Normal People (2020), High Fidelity (2020) and Amazon Prime’s Fleabag (2016–2019).
Thank you for reading my review and analysis!
