IMDb #212 Review: Before Sunrise (1995)

Source: Wikipedia

Two strangers futz around in nineties Vienna. Cue sunrise, roll credits. Because it's art, dammit.

Wait, where are you going? Just because it’s art doesn’t mean it’s bizarre and unapproachable!

Here: an American tourist and a French college student meet on a European train and chat. For hours. About whatever. In English, mostly, amid Austria’s linguistic cornucopia.

Then they take a break and walk around and do stuff, whatever they find. Yes, this refreshingly candid romance doubles as a documentary about improvising a piss-cheap Vienna day trip, which may or may not involve bamboozling bartenders into forking over free booze.

So they talk. They visit a cemetery for the nameless dead. They sip wine in the summer moonlight. They laugh. They talk some more.

This romance doesn’t exemplify “love at first sight” so much as transparency. Minutes after meeting, these two can exchange intimate childhood memories.

As their relationship barrels onward like a runaway train, they say, “This is going really fast.” To dispel awkwardness, they say, “This is awkward.” When the conversation sours, they say, “Let’s talk about something else,” and once again rehash how girls and boys are different. As morning approaches, they acknowledge the need to say goodbyes–so they practice.

Dialogue in movies often feels too polished. This one incorporates pauses, repetition, filler words, the works. Even though somebody probably calculated every inflection, the results sparkle with raw charm. Even the idle philosophical speculation is charming, devoid of pretentiousness.

Sure, knowing there's sequels detracts from the bittersweet tone. And replaces it with unfettered joy.