From: http://moviemezzanine.com/painful-truths-and-reality-in-richard-linklaters-before-midnight/
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'Before Midnight'
by Kevin Ketchum
If you'd told me 20 years ago that the director of Dazed and Confused would go on to make the most truthful and elegant cinematic expression of love since Annie Hall, I would have never stopped laughing. Truth be told, I don't think anyone expected the Texan oddball filmmaker Richard Linklater to be capable of making anything of that caliber. Yet here we are, capping off a trilogy that began with the greatest night of two strangers' lives, reuniting them nine years later in Paris to catch up, and ending a further nine into the future with all their insecurities and harsh realities coming to a head. Before Midnight brings the story of Celine and Jesse to a close in a way that only Linklater, Hawke, and Delpy could.
The film picks up nine years after Before Sunset. Jesse is saying goodbye to his now-teenaged son at the airport. Divorced from his wife, he only now spends his summers and Christmases with his son. We soon learn that Celine and Jesse are now a couple living in Europe, with two twin daughters, and they're on the last night of their summer in Greece. What follows is maybe a total of four actual scenes that last about 15 minutes each, all leading to one scene in a hotel that lasts for about 40 minutes of real time.
It's Linklater's insistence on staying true to this style that he brought to the first two films that make it feel right at home. Each scene is just a long sequence of conversation between characters, and it's never about anything deeper than everyday stuff: discussing plans for upcoming novels, relationships, career changes, and the like. But rarely is such mundane conversation so engaging and enthralling. That's because it just feels so real and truthful to life. There's so much subtext to dig into here, but it's all in the guise of real human beings talking about nothing we don't talk to others about on a regular basis.
It's this sense of authenticity that makes the film so accessible, and yet so full of meaning. The main topic often comes back to Celine and Jesse's age. They're entering their 40s, and it's something that's eating away at both of them. Jesse feels like he's losing touch with his son, and wants to be a more constant presence in his life. He chose to be with Celine, and the cost was missing out on a great deal of his son's life. Celine finds herself at a career crossroads , with her current position unable to match her ambitions to change the world. She's fiercely independent and wants to accomplish something, and she isn't getting any younger.
Their desires are heading in opposite directions, and it has begun to take its toll on the relationship. How can they maintain that same explosive passion they felt 18 years ago on that one fateful night? The bar for their relationship has been set so high that nothing can really compare at this point, and familiarity has begun to erode at that sense of excitement. At one point, Celine notices how much Jesse has aged. His voice is deeper and more gravely; his eyes have lost some of their youthful sparkle. "All the red is gone from your beard. It's one of the things I loved most about you when I met you," she remarks. "Well I hope your love isn't dependent on pigment," he slyly retorts.
It's these kinds of exchanges that get at the heart of why relationships aren't always just happiness and sunshine. We grow up, and our hopeful, passionate youth begins to give way to practicality. None of us want to hear it, because it's frankly depressing. Who honestly wants to be told that they'll have to give up their dreams to just find a job that can support a family? We like to tell ourselves that we can do both, when in reality, it's often a much more complex choice. Gone are the days when Celine and Jesse, so masterfully embodied by Julie Delpy and Ethan Hawke, could look at life with such wide-eyed enthusiasm, where only a plane ride could keep them apart. The ugly realities have set in, and harsh truths come out in a brutal argument that lasts for the final 45 minutes of the film.
As I watched this nail-biting conflict unfold, I realized that I was watching every fight that I'd had with my girlfriend. Arguing about plans for the future, financial stability, insecurities regarding fidelity, and not a word of it rang as being written in a script. I was watching two human beings fight like any would, and I can't compliment Linklater, Hawke, and Delpy enough on having written, directed, and performed something so pure and honest that it feels like it simultaneously transcends and defines all notions of what a film about love should be. It cuts deep into the conflicts we face as part of the human experience, and I'd be shocked if I saw a better film this year.
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