Before Sunrise

_****

It's love at first sight when Jesse (Ethan Hawke) spots Céline (Julie Delpy) on a train from Budapest to Vienna. The pair disembark the train and wander the city until the sun comes up, conversing about everything they're afraid to say to anyone else. It's a one-night love story ending in a promise unlikely to be kept, and it leaves you jealous that the story's not your own.

In a movie full of perfect moments, none have a greater impact than the last; during a montage of all the places Jesse and Céline had been during the night, it's almost haunting how each location was far more alive in the dead of the night than it is basked in the glow of the morning's sun. A perfect finale to an evening the audience only wishes we had been a part of.

The repartee developed by both characters, and skillfully portrayed by both actors, is a pleasure to witness; the script is so crisp that it draws the audience in entirely, making one feel as though he is a silent witness during a real conversation. The charm of both characters is so great that, when one flirts with the other, we blush along with them, when they fall back into a exhausted line of conversation, we feel as irritated and tired as each of them. Watching these two play off of one another is such an authentic experience that, when it's all over, it feels as though we've lost contact with people we truly care for.

Under another writer's pen, a love story with minimal plot would face extreme pacing issues. Hawke and Delpy create such relatable characters that it's almost an honour to be among them for an hour and a half, such an honour that the time flies by far faster than the audience might like. While none of our time with these characters feels wasted, the end credits come far too soon.

Some of the dialogue, while clever and entertaining, stretches the believability of the narrative. While I can certainly appreciate the charm of Jesse asking after the well-being of Céline's grandmother, I'm not sure that I understand how the two leads could chat with one another, touching upon subjects including love and death, for more than an hour and never learn each other's names. When the two only introduce themselves after having exited the train, at half-an-hour in, it strikes the audience as awkward.

The scene where Jesse and Céline convince the barman to give them a free bottle of wine rings false to me. It most definitely adds to the plot, and leads to a very romantic continuation of their date, but I can't suspend my disbelief that, at the very least, he didn't notice Céline stealing two wine glasses while looking directly at her. As much as I would love to believe that he would lend out a bottle of red based purely on true love and good will, I just can't.

What makes Sunrise really stand out to me is that the characters feel so real -- so genuinely human -- that one can't help but sympathize with them. The audience gets to know the two leads so well in such a short time that they both reveal the flaws that each tries so hard to hide, and it's the human flaws in each character that makes them so true to life. Both Hawke and Delpy are given such good material to work with that they each inhabit their characters in such a true and believable way that they never remove the audience from the story.

Before Sunrise leaves the audience wanting more, but, like any true romance, there is no defined resolution. While it may not be a film for every movie-goer, it certainly lends itself well to discussion, whether it be the merit of the film itself or one of the concepts pondered upon by the characters. Sunrise is a film begging for a sequel and simultaneously asking to be left without one.