I was just considering a few minutes ago how it’s not in my nature to talk about love. I leave that to films (which I rarely watch) or books (which I never read) on that subject, seeing how eloquence — when measured and deliberate — always sounds so much better when not spewed randomly. We can’t always be perfect, can we? Romantic movies and books have that kind of perfection, we usually don’t. And I make it a point not to read anything that would remind me of giggly school girls, mills & boon(s) and such; I once made the mistake of doing so and I’ve been traumatized ever since.
And all of the above means I’ve just watched ‘Before Sunset’ yet again. Forgive me for being a right awful caveman, but I’ve not seen ‘Before Sunrise’ when I first caught its sequel. Before watching ‘Before Sunset’, I didn’t have a clue about its predecessor, and I didn’t want to know either. From all accounts it was romantic, etc. etc. So I can’t really say why I bought ‘Before Sunset’ when it arrived here, maybe I was motivated by the fact that I’d be seeing the gorgeous Julie Delpy again, or maybe it was because I’d be catching a thinner version of Ethan Hawke, who I last saw in ‘Reality Bites’ (yes, that long ago).
And when I first saw it, I was completely blown away. Because it was so real. Ok, I’m not that naive, I know things were contrived, but the sort of contrivance on display was just so true to real life. In case you didn’t know, it’s a movie featuring about 80 minutes of just pure conversation, with all its lies, hooks, retractions, innuendos, half-truths, honesty and yes, brutal honesty. Just pure conversation.
A month or so after I watched the movie, I had a friend who wanted went around soliciting DVDs and such. I made the mistake of suggesting ‘Before Sunset’ and I got it back a week later, coupled with a bewildered expression. She went, “Eh, so boring the show, the just talk and talk and talk only, no sex, nothing happening at ALL!”. But it was just so much more than that. When Julie talks about her time in some benighted part of East Europe rife with fascist propaganda, the camera lights on her face for only a few seconds before shifting to Ethan’s character.
You watch his eyes, his expression and you just know he’s listening not to the sound of her words but to the cadence of her voice, her breathing, watching her whole body animated and just drinking in the sight of her. His responses are reminiscent of small talk, but it’s not to what she’s saying that’s important to him. You just know he wants her and he’s probably wondering why he wants her so bad.
And she watches him with equal consideration, if not intensity. She drags on her cigarette and she looks at him, really sees him beyond his words.
And because it’s conversation, it’s not the words that matter most but how they were expressing themselves that touched the most. Both Ethan Hawke and Julie Delpy have this unmistakable chemistry, not faked, not forced and there are times the tension leaves you with teeth on edge just waiting for an explosion. And that’s how I felt it was like in that moving; they both move toward each other, and away, and toward each other again and again till the last frame fades with Nina Simone in accompaniment.
There are moments that, being unspoken, were just priceless. An hand raised in comfort, a hand retracted, one reaching to touch, another surfacing.
You’ve got to watch it.
