Before Sunset

A fine romance: Prepare to be seduced again by romance, Before Sunset

By Jeannette Catsoulis

As a filmmaker, Richard Linklater has delighted me (Dazed and Confused), challenged me (Waking Life) and--just once--bored me (SubUrbia). But not until 1995's Before Sunrise did he succeed in seducing me; and now, with Before Sunset, he has swept me away all over again.

An astonishing nine years have passed since Jesse (Ethan Hawke) and Celine (Julie Delpy) became more than strangers on a Vienna train. He was an American slacker with engaging pick-up lines; she was a nervy Parisian student with golden hair and a head full of clashing ideas. Their chemistry was instant but tentative, and for 12 hours they used Vienna as its incubator, walking and talking and--eventually--having sex. But Linklater's genius was to craft a relationship where the sex, when it happened, was simply another incident, no more or less important than the cascade of conversation that preceded it. By the end of the film, as Jesse and Celine--without exchanging phone numbers or last names--planned to meet in Vienna in six months, we were as invested in the outcome as the couple themselves.

Back then, it was a near-perfect ending, one that seemed perilous to mess with. But with Before Sunset, Linklater, Hawke and Delpy (all of whom contributed to the dialogue) have created a sequel so seamlessly in sync with its predecessor, and so perfectly expressive of their characters' development, that the entire project feels not just inevitable but pre-ordained. And while this review will reveal almost nothing you won't already know from the first film, I can tell you that the new film opens with Jesse, now a successful author, concluding a book tour at Celine's favorite bookstore: Shakespeare & Co., on the Left Bank. The Vienna reunion never took place, and when Celine appears at the end of his signing--as Jesse clearly hoped she would--the two decide to spend the time before Jesse's flight home catching up on each other's lives.

They have exactly 80 minutes. Brilliantly, Linklater films in real time, following the couple as they stroll around Paris, take a boat trip on the Seine and sit in a coffee shop. Using beautiful tracking shots and natural light, Linklater swirls his camera around the actors, following as they reminisce about Vienna before swinging around to confront them as they reveal present-day frustrations and disappointments. Sometimes, at critical moments, the camera just sits quietly outside a building or a car and we listen to their disembodied voices struggling to understand so much in such a short time.

Before Sunset is best seen by an audience that, like the lovers themselves, is catching up nine years later. Deliriously besotted with language, both films celebrate the erotic power of conversation--the way words can bind our emotions beyond sense or practical barriers. Art, politics, therapy, aging and the nature of desire--all are explored and all reveal intimacies of personality that are at once commonplace yet situationally unique. When Jesse asks Celine what she thinks of his novel--a thinly disguised account of their initial meeting--she tells him it's "very romantic," glances at him briefly, then waits a beat before adding, "I usually don't like that." Moments like this reveal much about the rapport of the actors and their deep understanding of the characters they play.

Like these characters, Before Sunset is more sensual and more mature than the earlier film, and both Hawke and Delpy look older and more buffeted by life. The mood of Before Sunrise--all excited energy and breathless infatuation--has mellowed to a wistful nostalgia, and Linklater has given us one of the sweetest, most perfect endings ever filmed. He may or may not be the most truly independent filmmaker working today, but he is without doubt the most romantic.