But there’s a reason why ‘Before Sunrise,’ for all of its embarrassing flaws, has endured for all these years. It’s a ridiculously gorgeous feelings-infused fantasy-scape, with just enough realism to keep us interested. From the moment that Hawke and Delpy see each on the train, they’re destined to fall in love. So ‘Sunrise’ gives us what we want in a love story: beautiful people, a foreign landscape, a chance encounter. But it also provides us with a few things we forget to ask for: ambivalence, conflict, and very occasionally, pain. As Jesse and Celine mature in ‘Before Sunset,’ and later, ‘Before Midnight,’ their pain only deepens, as does the strength of the series. What starts as a stunning, if sometimes empty, love fantasy grows into a meaningful, difficult, true-life love story (Well, almost true. It’s Ethan Hawke and Julie Delpy vacationing on a Greek Island. Most of us are just happy to score a hook-up and a coupon for Dave & Busters, man).
‘Boyhood,’ Linklater’s latest, opened last Friday to the tune of near-universal critical praise and $359,000 at the box office (pretty good for a movie that opened on just five screens/isn’t a chimp morality play). The story follows a young boy as he moves from adolescence to adulthood, paying close attention to the daily details of human experience and not its big climaxes. And although ‘Boyhood’ is a coming-of-age tale and ‘Before Sunrise’ a romantic one, both movies have a love for dialogue, landscape, character. There’s feeling. A lot of it. It’s what makes a movie featuring so much ugh-Ethan Hawke in ugh-a-leather-jacket palatable, and often, very good.
I watched ‘Before Sunrise’ when I was in high school and ‘Before Sunset’when I was in college and ‘Before Midnight’ last night around six, right after the local news. As Jesse and Celine grew up, I was able to see how their definitions of romance shifted: from a soulmate fantasy kind of love to a move-across-the-world kind of love to a let’s-fight-then-get-a-couples-massage kind of love (well hallelujah for that). They grow and they change, they separate, then merge. Linklater can be wordy and precious, built for the “I don’t own a TV, I listen to podcasts” generation. But he’s also sensitive in a way that a lot of directors just aren’t. There’s idealism in Jesse and Celine’s journey, but also romance. Despite everything, we still believe in their story.
The first in the ‘Before’ trilogy, ‘Before Sunrise’is the most youthful of the three stories, and consequently, the most annoying. Two young people, jobless, drinking wine, wandering through Europe, philosophizing about love? And one of them is played by Ethan Hawke? In a goatee? Tell me someone Amish-chops that shit ’cause I’m. Not. Having It.
Still, there’s a lot to love in ‘Before Sunrise,’ even if Hawke’s James Franco ponderings make it sometimes impossible to watch. ‘Sunrise’ tells the story of Jesse and Celine’s meet-cute: on a train, after watching a middle-aged couple break into an open-air fight. Jesse then invites Celine into the snack car and out to Vienna for the evening, confident that the two have a special connection worth exploring (over wine, a handie perhaps?). The only catch is that Jesse is leaving for America the next morning, making this a sort of one-night-soul-mate-stand.
What’s striking about ‘Before Sunrise’ isn’t the overall plot but the literal dialogue, so much more thoughtful and grounded than the milk chocolate fantasyland they inhabit. Even though Hawke and Delpy are young and idealistic and mostly full of crap (Hawke), they also ask real questions and make some attempt at the truth. “Isn’t everything we do in life a way to be loved a little more?” Celine asks at one point, then: “If there’s any kind of magic in the world it must be in the attempt of understanding someone sharing something . . . it’s impossible to succeed, but who cares? The answer must be in the attempt.” To summarize: everything in life is an unsuccessful attempt to be loved a little bit more. We’re bound to fail, but you know, it’s worth the nice empty try.
Depressing (suicidal?) though those words they may be, they resonate ‘cause they’re real. It’s impossible for Hawke and Delpy’s romance to last past death, and they’ll be lucky if it lasts until the end of the movie. Watching ‘Before Sunrise,’ we’re fighting so hard for it to become a traditional upper-class romance. Please, we beg, let the attractive couple who met on the train find love in a European city, then spend the rest of their lives spouting completely grammatical sentences in completely furnished Williams Sonoma kitchens. There’ll be figs. Unprotected sex. Hardbound Tolstoy. There’s so much to dream about, but the dialogue won’t totally let us. It’s a blessing.
‘Before Sunrise’ has been labeled a love story, but it’s not. It’s a falling-in-love story, a distinction worth noting. Romances like ‘Before Midnight,’ not ‘Before Sunrise,’ examine intimacy after infatuation ends – which is the point at which real love begins. “When you talked earlier about after a few years how a couple would begin to hate each other. . . I think that’s the opposite for me,” Celine explains. “I think I can really fall in love when I know everything about someone – the way he’s going to part his hair, which shirt he’s going to wear that day, what story he’s going to tell . . .”
Celine may be fantasizing (really, Celine? You’re gonna fall in love with Hawke once you realize that, all along, he’s been using soap as shampoo?), but her version of love is much closer to reality than anything we’ve seen in the contemporary rom-com. The Fault in Our Stars. Love Actually. Seriously Everything. Our culture is suffused with falling-in-love stories like ‘Before Sunrise’ because they’re the easier to tell – and more commonly experienced – than in-love narratives, which involve selecting dishware, hating your children, holding on. ‘Sunrise’ isn’t a total exception to the trend, but at least the dialogue pushes against its Mr. Cleaned surface. “Enjoy it while it lasts,” Linklater asks us. These memories are kind and important. There will be a sequel.