I’ve waited nine long years for
“Before Midnight”—ever since the moment I saw “Before Sunset” and it became one
of my all-time favorite films. It was worth the wait. This sublime work of art
was worth every single second this less than completely patient person had to
endure.
There’s meeting. There’s attraction.
There’s falling.
Then there is relating.
The first three cost
relatively little.
The last costs
plenty. And eventually, inevitably, everything.
In “Before Sunrise” two young people
did the first three exquisitely.
In “Before Sunset” the same two people redid the same
things nearly a decade later even more exquisitely. And at a much greater cost.
Now, in “Before Midnight,” some nine years later, the same
two people are doing the last—actually relating—and they have been for the nine
long years since we saw them last.
Director Richard Linklater reteams with Ethan Hawke and
Julie Delpy for “Before Midnight,” which finds their characters together
raising twin daughters, while attempting to maintain a relationship with Hank, Jesse’s
teenage son from his first marriage, who lives in America. As they drive and
walk through the austerely beautiful rocky hillsides of Messinia, Jesse and
Celine talk about their lives and relationship as ancient and modern Greece swirls
around them.
Is this the end? Does their relationship die among the
ruins? Or will this be the place of rebirth and resurrection?
Eventually, they wind up alone in a hotel room.
And what does a long-term couple do alone in a hotel room
besides throw off their worries, responsibilities, and clothes and make love? Exactly.
Except as they begin to, intruders arrive—the weight of children, work,
ambitions, disappointments, the ebb and flow of romantic love, the strains of
an evolving, deepening relationship.
So instead of making love they make war. They do and say
things that can’t be undone or unsaid. They do damage that is irreparable to
all save love.
Like everything worth anything in
this life, good relationships require work. Lots of it. They are an investment
of our whole selves, requiring no less than our very essence outwards. We can
give less, of course, and often do, but the more we give, the finer a thing we
have.
A sustained, intense, intimate,
evolving, genuine connection requires work, yes, but there is far more to it.
I’m sure you, like me, have been in relationships that were mostly work and not
much else. Masochism is not matrimony. And some relationships just can’t work
no matter how much we work at them—something some of us are far too slow to
admit.
But when you have a good foundation with someone who is a
good fit—who is generous and kind, interesting, challenging, and fun, faithful
and committed—investing is rewarding and rewarded. It’s like the work I put into
being an ever better writer. There’s nothing I work harder at (save being an
ever better me) and there’s nothing that feels less like work.
The very best relationships cost us everything and that,
dear reader, is a bargain. They are worth far more.
In the nine years since we’ve last seen them, Celine and
Jesse could’ve spent some more time working on their relationship. A lot more.
Relationships are like delicate yet resilient gardens that
must be tended, nourished, and nurtured. They can survive for a while with
little or no attention, but to truly thrive they must be cared for.
Will Celine and Jesse give their relationship the care it so
needs and deserves? We’ll have to wait another nine years to find out. But for
our own, we can find out today. Will we give our whole selves unselfishly for
lasting love? Will we till and toil, care and cultivate? Will we root out the
weeds of ego, insecurity, selfishness, bitterness, woundedness? Will we let go
and trust the process? Will we sow ourselves? Will we scatter the seeds of kindness
and reap the harvest of love? It’s up to us—just as the condition of Jesse and
Celine’s garden is up to them.
