Returning to Past Lives
“If you leave something behind, you gain something too."
Past Lives isn’t about grand confessions or dramatic resolutions; it’s about the spaces in between—relationships that defy labels, the ties to our origins, and the sacrifices that shape us.
With graceful storytelling, it delves into what it means to carry fragments of where we come from while forging the path to who we are becoming
[SPOILERS BEYOND THIS POINT]
11/18/2024 - After watching Past Lives (my favorite movie of 2023) for the fourth time, I found myself once again mesmerized by its quiet focus and depth. The film doesn’t rely on grand gestures or dramatic action, yet it weaves a narrative so rich and subtle that it stays with you long after the credits roll.
At its heart, Past Lives explores the layered relationships between the central characters while subtly addressing the emotional journey of leaving native land.
A Love That Never Was
The relationship between Nora and Hae Sung is a fascinating centerpiece.
Their connection transcends the boundaries of traditional romantic storytelling—there’s no physical touch, no overt romantic relationship, and yet their bond is undeniably rooted in love.
Hae Sung and Na Young.
It exists in the space between friendship and romance, a unique kinship that carries the weight of unspoken longing.
This restrained approach makes their relationship all the more poignant, as it mirrors the tension of reconciling with something—or someone—you can never fully have.
Ties to the Land
What struck me most on this recent viewing was how the film uses their relationship to explore the theme of leaving the homeland. Hae Sung isn’t just Nora’s childhood love—he’s a symbol of her Korean identity, of the life she left behind.
Nora’s admission to her husband that being with Hae Sung makes her feel “so not Korean when I’m with him. But also, in some way, more Korean?”
South Korea is beautifully etched into this story and is central to Na Young’s emotional journey.
She speaks of the duality of living between two worlds. The film delves into how moving away from the place you are native to isn’t just a physical move but an emotional one, requiring one to reconcile the past with the present.
Hae Sung embodies that past, a tether to her homeland that is both grounding and bittersweet.
Nora’s Mom
Another layer that enriches this narrative is the wisdom of Nora’s mother, portrayed beautifully by Yun Ji-hye. Early in the film, Nora’s mother arranges a date for her young daughter and Hae Sung, fully aware that their budding connection is on the verge of blossoming into something more, and the fact that is about to come to an end because they are leaving Korea and moving to America.
This deliberate act is fascinating—she knows she will soon uproot Nora to move to America, yet she ensures her daughter has a meaningful memory rooted in her native land. It’s as if she’s gifting Nora a piece of Korea to carry with her—a memory that will anchor her to her origins no matter how far she goes, because it’s tied to Hae Sung.
This scene is cinematic history.
During Na Young (Nora’s Korean name) and Hae Sung’s date, with both their mothers observing from a bench nearby, we hear a conversation between the two women while the children explore modern art sculptures:
Hae Sung’s mom: “Hae Sung talks about Na Young a lot.”
Na Young’s mom: “Na Young told me that she likes him.”
They exchange a glance.
Na Young’s mom: “We’re immigrating soon. So I wanted to make good memories for her.”
Hae Sung’s mom: “You’re immigrating?”
Na Young’s mom: “Yes.”
Hae Sung’s mom: “But why are you immigrating? Na Young’s dad is a film director. And you’re an artist. Why would you leave all that behind?”
Na Young’s mom: “If you leave something behind, you gain something too.”
It’s a bittersweet moment. Hae Sung’s mom seems on the verge of embracing the idea of these two children growing up together. The revelation that Na Young likes Hae Sung only deepens the weight of their impending separation.
Yet, the news of the family’s immigration shatters this budding possibility, leaving everyone with a sense of loss.
This scene encapsulates the emotional ripple effects of such a life-altering decision. It transforms the question of leaving for a “better life” into something agonizingly nuanced.
Nora’s mother emerges as a mythical, almost sage-like figure in the story. By fostering the connection between Nora and Hae Sung, she gifts her daughter a tangible link to Korea.
It’s a quietly powerful act of foresight, resonating throughout the film and adding a layer of wisdom and intentionality to the story’s foundation.
Reconciliation
The film’s visuals further underscore the emotional weight of the narrative. The scenes set in Korea are breathtaking in their stillness and beauty, offering a serene contrast to the complexities of Nora’s inner journey.
The land itself feels like a character, mirroring the nostalgia and longing that permeate the story.
South Korea had tremendous power and played a huge role in this deep movie.
What makes Past Lives so compelling is its ability to navigate intricate themes with elegance. Nora’s journey is one of reconciliation—coming to terms with her past, her present, and the people who represent both. The film handles this with a quiet grace.
In the end, Past Lives is more than a story about love. It’s a meditation on identity, immigration, and the way our past shapes us. It’s about closure that isn’t absolute, relationships that exist in the in-between, and the delicate dance of honoring where we come from while embracing where we are.
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