Before Sunset (2004, Richard Linklater) (Patreon)

79/100

Third viewing, last seen just prior to its original theatrical release. Didn't review it at the time, either professionally or on my site; a lot of movies slipped through the cracks back then, as my sole gig was a monthly Esquire column. Plus the post-Moneymaker poker boom was in full crazy-lucrative swing, inspiring me to put in long hours at the table. I did, however, find time to get into an epic argument on the now-defunct nerd group, in which I acknowledged the film's general excellence but wished aloud that it didn't idealize Celine and Jesse's present-tense relationship quite so much. Several people pushed back hard against that notion (and Before Sunset remains, 17 years later, my peer group's most beloved feature-length movie of this century*, at least going by our "Crix Pix" averages), but I still think that more could have done to subtly suggest where these characters would wind up nine years later. Revisited with Midnight in mind, Sunset's most telling moment becomes Celine abruptly freaking out and asking the limo driver to pull over, which prefigures what I at least now perceive as her tendency to wildly overreact in response to emotional stress (and then just as quickly calm down). I was also more conscious this time of Jesse's strenuous efforts to steer things in a romantic/sexual direction, via such cringeworthy tactics as asking—when Celine mentions associating a particular street from her childhood with sex, because her mother used to warn her about dirty old men while they walked home together—whether said street is anywhere nearby. (She clearly doesn't mind his horniness, but that doesn't make it any less embarrassing.) So we get a few indications that things might not be blissful once they've spent more than 24 hours in each other's company. But I still consider it "cheating," to some extent, that Jesse happens to be in an unhappy marriage and Celine happens to be involved with a man who's constantly absent. Put at least one of them in a position to weigh potential euphoria against current contentment and you've got something genuinely complex, rather than an admittedly lovely wish-fulfillment scenario. As is, we all know perfectly well that Jesse's gonna miss that plane. He has no reason not to.

(Sheepish confession: I've always winced my way through Celine's waltz. Romantic in theory, but Delpy's song and performance are kinda terrible in my opinion. Not among her gifts. I'd try to rationalize that as intentional—a realistic bit of charming awkwardness—had she not included it on her self-titled album a year before the movie came out.) 

All of that's Ed, swoon. Teared up as always when Celine reaches out to touch Jesse's head and then gingerly pulls her hand back (a moment that was apparently scripted and rehearsed, like everything else in the film that seems spontaneous). Held my breath once more during that endless, silent ascent to Celine's apartment (which works as well as it does because it's literally the first time they've shut up since the movie began). Despite having seen the clip in my Twitter feed the day that Notre Dame caught fire, I'd forgotten about Celine's remark that it won't always be there, and seeing the spire intact as they drift by inspired a pang I hadn't felt since 2002, when shots of the Twin Towers in pre-9/11 movies still really hurt. Most of all, the reunion itself, at Shakespeare And Company, remains miraculous in a way that I'm not sure I can articulate. Here's how that moment was scripted (from a legit-looking draft I found online):

Across the room, CELINE emerges from behind a row of books, where she's been hiding and listening.

If Linklater shot that, he chose not to include it. Instead, he cuts directly from a Before Sunrise flashback (those aren't in the script)—Celine gazing at Jesse with unmistakable ardor, from a scene at the end in which she's braided her hair, making her look particularly young—to Celine in the bookstore, visibly older and watching him with what's initially a much more impassive expression. She doesn't emerge; she simply appears, as if summoned by his memories. Or by our memories, perhaps. Even on paper, Linklater, Delpy and Hawke (jointly credited for the screenplay) are shrewd enough to avoid the cliché of having Jesse stop short mid-sentence in response to something we can't yet see, followed by the big "reveal"; Hawke likewise beautifully plays Jesse's consternation, making it momentary and subtle enough as to go unnoticed by others in the room. Reintroducing Celine via an unexpected cut out of a flashback, however, is one of those ineffable touches that's unique to cinema as a medium, the genius of which seems self-evident to me even though I can't answer the question "Why would a two-second shot of Jesse talking to the Shakespeare crowd, inserted prior to that first glimpse of present-tense Celine, utterly ruin something that you perceive as magical?" I just know with 100% conviction that it would. The first time I saw that, I caught my breath for a second and then relaxed. They'd put real thought into this. It was a continuation, not a mere sequel.

* Actually, it's currently in an exact tie with A Separation, now that I check. Specified feature-length because for some reason the person who used to be in charge allowed votes on Guy Maddin's short "The Heart of the World," which has pretty much always been #1. (There's also Yi Yi—technically the highest-rated feature, but ratings from 2000 are highly unreliable, for reasons too laborious to get into.)