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Celine Song’s directorial debut Past Lives, which released in theatres in India on 7 July, maps the quiet contemplation of yearning through a timespan of twenty years. It’s a romance – disarming, gentle, teetering with hope and humour. But there is also the subtext of melancholy as Nora, her longtime husband, and her childhood sweetheart sift through their past, future and present.
Their lives are sewn together through space and time – but to what end? Longing in cinema is an overused trope. From Titanic to La La Land – films are visceral in their negotiations with yearning – death or circumstances keep star-cross lovers apart – as heartbreak follows.
But the facets of longing in cinema are underlined through different contexts:
Song’s feature, for instance, contemplates the hope of longing and its pain. In the film, childhood sweethearts Nora and Hae Sung lose touch after she emigrates to another country but they reconnect after 12 years. As they rekindle their connection, the gaping distance between them gnaws at her and she decisively takes a ‘break.’
Life goes on, she marries a Jewish man and 12 years later, Hae Sung decides to visit her. Upon their meeting, she asks why he decided to reconnect after so long and he responds, “I just wanted to see you one more time.”
Nothing is left to chance in Past Lives – decisions are deliberate. Hae Sung decides to get back in touch and Nora decides to lose touch.
In Past Lives, melancholy is ordinary. Its longing is peppered with awkward silences, humour and the desperate need to pause and savour a moment of what cannot be.
Makoto Shinkai's 2016 Japanese animated film Your Name captures the beauty of what can never be as well. Two strangers share a deep connection but are unable to meet despite their bond – time and space keep them apart.
Past Lives also clings to memories for a better future – or perhaps just a different one. But unlike Your Name, it dwells on what-ifs – mulling over all possible scenarios in which they could have, would have, and should have been together.
In Portrait of a Lady on Fire two women, Marianne and Héloïse, engage in a secret love affair and fall deeply in love. But their love is doomed. In one of the scenes, they recount all the instances they will hold onto after they part.
They eventually separate as Héloïse is to be married soon and Marianne has finished her portrait. Their secret love swells through the 11 days they spend together but it is, after all, time-bound. It's saccharine and devastating - they memorise the essence of each other for it to be enough after they part.
In In the Mood for Love, the two protagonists grapple with the desire to re-enact their spouses' love affair. They eventually fall for each other. However, despite their romantic longings they stay apart, perhaps due to their lack of courage. Wong Kar-Wai’s feature is delicate and evocative in its manifestation of longing.
But it also acknowledges the reluctance of giving in to love for whatever reason. Kar-Wai is preoccupied with the complexity of emotions to give any concrete answers. And it's better that way.
In Past Lives, Arthur, Nora's husband, acknowledges his latent fear that he might be coming between fated lovers. But in the end, while they contemplate love and destiny they are self-assured in their decision, although haunted by it.
It's the nature of contemplation that is diverse in these films. Across the board, they are sewn together with hope and loss. Encounters are fleeting but significant, to the extent that it shapes the protagonists' lives. In the end though, despite the contemplation, it's difficult to pin what is so inviting about the promise of what if.
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