After the Before

[Spoiler alert: Story contains spoilers from the Before movie trilogy.]

The scene goes dark on screen as the two peer onward from their seats. He leans into her ear.

Him: “So, Before Sunrise?”

Her: “No,” she said.

Him: “Oh, Before Sunset, then?”

Her: “Also no.”

Him: “So . . . Before Midnight?”

Her: “Even more no.”

Him: “You can’t hate the entire Before trilogy. How is that possible?”

She put her feet on the chair in front of her. He turned his body toward her, leaning into the armrest.

Romance is Gross, Point Blank

Her: “What’s the point? What’s the point of watching Linklater if it’s not rotoscoped?”

Him: “That’s not an opinion to have on these movies.”

Her: “It’s a depressing timelapse of two irresponsible, hardly likeable people who we watch fail to grow over 20 years. That’s not fun or inspiring.”

Him: “No, the movies hold up. To our desire for love, for wit, but also for heartache. It balances adventure without forgetting the reality of romance.”

Her: “Those movies aren’t romance. They’re possibly smart, but not charming. It is art, it can’t be too fun. Those movies are a three-part whimsy dancing around the nuances of reality. Who wants to watch the inevitable.”

Him: “They literally say that’s the point: ‘If we don’t suffer, we don’t learn.’”

Her: “Sure, yeah, yeah, we all heard it. ‘We appear, we disappear,’ like a sunrise or a sunset, or whichever it was.

Him: “Or midnight?”

Her: “Midnight does neither. But sure, go ahead and get off the train with a stranger. With a time traveler. Go ahead and ‘miss your train, baby.’ But no one wants to see the unavoidable spiral into what is relationships.”

Him: “It’s the opposite. That honesty and grit are what make them timeless and inspiring. The encounters hold up. True fidelity to what it is to be young and brief, evolving in your selfishness, and connecting (and yes, maybe eventually misconnecting) with someone in the exact same evolution.”

Her: “They end with 20-something minutes of a fight that’s too real. ‘I don’t think I love you anymore.’ It broke the sacred ‘one magic night,’ ‘one magic moment before a flight,’ ‘one magic whatever’ vibration that resonated for two—or I could be convinced maybe even two-and-a-half—movies.”

He practically threw himself back in the chair, facing forward and gesturing with his hands as his energy rose. She pulled her legs in to sit crisscross in her seat, now angled toward him.

The Truth About Women and Men, Cats and Dogs

Him: “But that’s just it! They love each other! We want to believe in that spark, the instance they agree they don’t want to be done on the train, that he won’t make the flight—”

Her: “Yes, but what about at the end? There’s nothing in that hotel, nothing at that table, nothing that reignites that spark. It is too smothered by the reality that romantic love is not real love.”

Him: “Jesse literally says it: ‘There’s more to love than commitment.’ What you are left with at that table is the hope that both have grown enough, their romantic love has traveled time with them, because they’ve actually made that commitment.”

Her: “Or did Celine get it right? ‘It’s better to be alone than feel lonely next to your lover.’ I think we’re both conceding that Sunset got it right, the truth of love and the reality of romance, it does not last and forever takes work and growth—something they were never going to do, not for each other or themselves.”

Him: “But he shows up!”

Her: “And she doesn’t!”

Him: “And somehow they laugh about it—that doesn’t show growth?”

Her: “Correction, she laughs about it. That shows her character.”

She pointed with her finger as if dotting a sentence in the air, marking her statement. His head rolled in exhaustion, and he turned his entire body to face her.

The Highest of (In)Fidelity

Him: “Ok, so we can agree it’s disappointing but that is what’s real. It’s the ‘natural human state’ to which they speak. That’s what sits with us about these movies.”

Her: “Maybe, or that is the delusion to motivation to which they speak.”

Him: “Well, you, too, are no Henry Miller.”

Her: “And you are no Anais Nin.”

Him: “And neither of us a Django Reinhardt?”

Her: “We aren’t putting out an album any time soon, that’s for sure.”

Him: “But come on, there is a certain sentiment. The back and forth, the wandering, the anecdotes, the intense—and you know that record store was real—moments between two strangers, first unknown, then reconnected, then spiraling. . .only to fall back into each other.”

Her: “Or not. She sympathizes with Sylvia Plath—”

Together: “‘It was an oven!’” ‘

Her: “Some moment of every conversation seems stained by infidelity, mistrust, and discontent. His girlfriend, his wife, her grandma, her grandma’s lover. Even their retelling of themselves—did they have sex once, or twice, or at all?”

Him: “But what if neither of them got the count right?”

Her: “Then it was that forgettable? That’s just sad.”

Him: “They were simply concerned with—”

Together: “Simple pleasures!”

They both laughed gently, relaxing back into their seats.

Reality Truly Does Bite

Her: “Call it what it is. It’s a 24-hour meet-cute, followed by an hour-and-a-half meet-n-reminisce, followed by a night-long meat grinder.

He: “Call it what it is? Fine. It’s the perfect American-European romantic tryst. In the 90s, in our youth, we all want to believe we’d get off the train for a stranger.”

Her: “And we would if he looked like Ethan Hawke.”

He: “We want to imagine we’d learn something about ourselves if we traveled alone through Europe.”

Her: “And maybe we would if we could have afforded to get there in the first place. How did he even afford a Eurorail pass or get to Europe? Not to mention how did he afford that leather jacket?”

Him: “We want to watch two irresponsible, incompatible, uncontrollably chatty charmers transcend the ages just out of pure curiosity—we want to travel time with them to find out!”

Her: “. . . you mean we had to see if they had three more hours of wandering dialogue worth watching?”

Him: “Well, you did watch them all, and you watched them all the way through. I’d even beg to argue—obviously—you’ve watched them all more than once.”

Her: “I’d beg to argue that I’d watch anything with Ethan Hawke more than once.”

Him: “So then what’s wrong with the ending? What’s wrong with these lovers who have transcended time—”

Her: “They hardly transcended time. They stayed together, just as predicted from the start, because of other forces, the force of twins to be specific. So, the hopeful moment we close on, that’s not real, that’s delusional.”

Him: “But love and romance are delusional. It all makes up for the one night . . . the one night. . .what does she say?”

Together: “‘It must have been one hell of a night we're about to have.’”

Her: “So, enough. What do you think? What would we tell each other if tonight were our last night?”

Him: “Nothing. I would ask my wayward time traveler to sign her note. Give name to the ill-fated future she inscribed on her napkin. And you?”

Her: “I’d sign it the fucking mayor of crazytown.”

The credits on the screen in front of them concluded.

On the screen: “Thank you for joining Cinematown Sundown’s Sunday Screenings. Catch us for next week’s double feature: Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind & Lost in Translation.”

References:

Before Sunrise Linklater, R. (Director). (1995). Before Sunrise [Film]. Columbia Pictures.

Before Sunset Linklater, R. (Director). (2004). Before Sunset [Film]. Warner Independent Pictures.

Before Midnight Linklater, R. (Director). (2013). Before Midnight [Film]. Sony Pictures Classics.