It is true that,
amongst the noise and destruction that arrives in cinemas every summer, films
such as Richard Linklater’s Before
Midnight are welcome respites. However, it is equally accurate to say that
regardless of its release date, Before
Midnight would stand as a near perfect film and a conclusion (possibly) to
an unlikely, near perfect trilogy.
Before Midnight reunites us with Celine and Jesse in their
early 40s, following their first introduction as 20 something’s in 1995’s Before Sunrise and then Before Sunset (2004), which picked up
with them in their early 30s. Each chapter of this romantic tripartite locates
the capricious couple in a different romantic locale, only once allowing one
half of the romance the benefit of home (Before
Sunset concludes in Celine’s Parisian apartment). These (mostly) neutral
settings provide a fair battleground as Jesse and Celine navigate the
tumultuous path to romantic contentment.
Yet, what separates
these films from other films that explore relationships is that Linklater and
his co-writers and actors, Ethan Hawke and Julie Delpy recognise and
investigate the individual, inimitable nature of romance. Many films attempt to
attach rules and patterns to their romantic narratives, as if there is a
paradigm of love that is universally adhered to. By creating a pseudo-shared
experience, such films feel they connect with the audience and in many cases
they do. Many relationships will be able to relate to the narratives of
romantic films and romantic comedies (a genre which Before Midnight flirts with). But this is a paradox and a false
investment on the part of the audience. The nature of love, of romance is that
each experience is unique; no two people together are the same.
Before Midnight (and its first two chapters) is very aware of
this and the result is perhaps the most honest collection of films about love
to come out of American cinema.
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