I feel like I should be journaling this movie review instead of publishing it. Past Lives is such a wistful film it inspires similar reminiscence.
The story involves a woman named Nora who immigrated from Korea to Canada with her family as a child and then again to New York City on her own as an adult. Actually, Nora is the English name she chose for herself when she moved. Her given name is Na Young. In the film, only her childhood friend and would-be lover Hae Sung calls her that thought. A lot of Past Lives is about how our identity shifts throughout our lives and what happens when a reminder of our past self comes calling on our present.
Na Young and Hae Sung were childhood sweethearts. They lost touch when Nora moved away. They reconnect years later after Nora is married to an American man named Arthur. Past Lives isn’t really a Will-They-Won’t-They romance. It’s more of a Will-They-Why-Don’t-They romance. The tension isn’t in whether or not they will get together. The dramatic tension is in exploring why they never did. It’s about the deep connection two people can share who are not life partners. In a surprising way, Past Lives ends up being equally about what makes marriage special beyond mere emotional connection. It’s about how our commitments to each other and to ourselves are more precious than, well, everything else.
Past Lives is one of those rare, apparently simple movies that turns out to be emotionally and thematically complex, and more so the more time you spend with it. It is like a relationship in that way. Writer/director Celine Song—in her feature film debut!—lived through a similar situation to the one depicted here, and you can feel a kind of openness to what the experience meant then and means now to her. It’s an emotionally honest film, deeply personal, but, as if often the case, deeply relatable as a result of Song’s honesty.
A central motif in Past Lives is the Korean concept of In-Yun. It refers to a thickness that builds up between two souls after many interactions over many lives. It’s a way of explaining the deep connection two people can feel. It’s not necessarily romantic, but it can be that too. Even if I don’t roll with the reincarnation aspects of In-Yun, I do value the attempt to name something we know but often have trouble talking about.
In ancient Celtic Christianity, there is a similar idea called the anamchara, or “soul friend.” An anamchara is a person with whom you share a deep connection and who is essential for your spiritual journey. It is often a holy person, but it need not be. Your anamchara can be anyone who loves you with their presence and who is devoted to your spiritual well-being. You don’t really get to choose them. You discover them, much as Nora discovers later in life that she and Hae Sung share a connection they struggle to adequately name.
Past Lives contains that sadness that we feel whenever we are confronted with our limits as human beings. We can only be who we are, the result of the decisions we have made along the way. And we can also see, as if we are looking across a bay, the lives we could have lived had we made different decisions. Maybe we visit those shores, physically or in our imaginations. Or maybe someone from those shores visits us on their own journey across the waters to the life they did not chose to lead. Traveling kindles our love for home. We lack words to describe the connection we feel to people and places with whom we are not meant to remain. We have to learn to be grateful for what we had and what we have. Our anamcharas help us. Or maybe we call it In-Yun. We feel happy and sad all at once. Past Lives is about that.
I feel like I should be journaling this movie review instead of publishing it. Past Lives is such a wistful film it inspires similar reminiscence.
The story involves a woman named Nora who immigrated from Korea to Canada with her family as a child and then again to New York City on her own as an adult. Actually, Nora is the English name she chose for herself when she moved. Her given name is Na Young. In the film, only her childhood friend and would-be lover Hae Sung calls her that thought. A lot of Past Lives is about how our identity shifts throughout our lives and what happens when a reminder of our past self comes calling on our present.
Na Young and Hae Sung were childhood sweethearts. They lost touch when Nora moved away. They reconnect years later after Nora is married to an American man named Arthur. Past Lives isn’t really a Will-They-Won’t-They romance. It’s more of a Will-They-Why-Don’t-They romance. The tension isn’t in whether or not they will get together. The dramatic tension is in exploring why they never did. It’s about the deep connection two people can share who are not life partners. In a surprising way, Past Lives ends up being equally about what makes marriage special beyond mere emotional connection. It’s about how our commitments to each other and to ourselves are more precious than, well, everything else.
Past Lives is one of those rare, apparently simple movies that turns out to be emotionally and thematically complex, and more so the more time you spend with it. It is like a relationship in that way. Writer/director Celine Song—in her feature film debut!—lived through a similar situation to the one depicted here, and you can feel a kind of openness to what the experience meant then and means now to her. It’s an emotionally honest film, deeply personal, but, as if often the case, deeply relatable as a result of Song’s honesty.
A central motif in Past Lives is the Korean concept of In-Yun. It refers to a thickness that builds up between two souls after many interactions over many lives. It’s a way of explaining the deep connection two people can feel. It’s not necessarily romantic, but it can be that too. Even if I don’t roll with the reincarnation aspects of In-Yun, I do value the attempt to name something we know but often have trouble talking about.
In ancient Celtic Christianity, there is a similar idea called the anamchara, or “soul friend.” An anamchara is a person with whom you share a deep connection and who is essential for your spiritual journey. It is often a holy person, but it need not be. Your anamchara can be anyone who loves you with their presence and who is devoted to your spiritual well-being. You don’t really get to choose them. You discover them, much as Nora discovers later in life that she and Hae Sung share a connection they struggle to adequately name.
Past Lives contains that sadness that we feel whenever we are confronted with our limits as human beings. We can only be who we are, the result of the decisions we have made along the way. And we can also see, as if we are looking across a bay, the lives we could have lived had we made different decisions. Maybe we visit those shores, physically or in our imaginations. Or maybe someone from those shores visits us on their own journey across the waters to the life they did not chose to lead. Traveling kindles our love for home. We lack words to describe the connection we feel to people and places with whom we are not meant to remain. We have to learn to be grateful for what we had and what we have. Our anamcharas help us. Or maybe we call it In-Yun. We feel happy and sad all at once. Past Lives is about that.
Elijah Davidson is Co-Director of Brehm Film and Senior Film Critic. Subscribe to Come & See, his weekly newsletter that guides you through the greatest films ever made, and find more of his work at elijahdavidson.com.
