Finding Closure In Two Worlds: Why “Past Lives” Left Me Devastated
Design by Kate Vedder
Image Description: This illustration is inspired by the character Na Young/Nora Moon from the film Past Lives. At the top of the image, the text reads “CALLING NA-YOUNG,”below this, there’s a vintage rotary phone emitting a “RINGGG” sound, depicted with large, playful letters stretching across a yellow background. At the bottom half, Nora is shown lying on her stomach with her legs bent at the knees and crossed. She holds the phone receiver close to her face, as she says, “Hello? This is NORA.” Her clothing is casual, with a beige sweater and gray pants, and her hairstyle is a sleek, shoulder-length bob.
Romance films that truly captivate are hard to come by. Often, the genre is riddled with exaggerations and unrealistic portrayals of love, which can distance the audience from the intended immersive experience. However, “Past Lives” defies these conventions by presenting a touching exploration of relationships, capturing the raw and often painful reality of love. The film has resonated with its audience due to its realistic portrayal that challenges the notion of love and romance as an idealized, everlasting construct. It’s a sentiment echoed in many Letterboxd reviews and conversations I’ve had with friends; this film left them utterly devastated, and I found myself no exception, although maybe for a different reason than most.
Media consumption is a subjective experience, shaped by individual perspectives and experiences. While many may see “Past Lives” as a romance, for me, it transcended that label. Yes, there’s the surface-level narrative of a woman torn between her childhood sweetheart and her husband. Yet, to me, these men were more than just romantic interests: they represented her journey as an immigrant. Perhaps this interpretation is a case of heavy projecting on my part – I too moved to the U.S in middle school and have called it home ever since. So, rather than trying to make a claim about the true meaning of the film, I simply want to share with FEM readers how I experienced Celine Song’s masterpiece.
From the get-go, watching Na Young/Nora felt like looking in the mirror. I knew all too well what it felt like to walk into a classroom filled with kids who look nothing like you, to have to change your name for others’ convenience, to work on your accent to fit in better. While she does appear to shed certain aspects of her identity in order to better assimilate in her new life, a lingering attachment to her Korean roots remains. Notably, it is evident in her Skype call with her mother, where they google Nora’s childhood friends from Korea simply for the fun of it. This lingering attachment becomes stronger and more of a struggle for Nora as she reconnects with Hae Sung.
To me, the relationship between Hae Sung and Nora was never a mere relationship between two individuals, but rather a vessel for a story of identity, belonging and the pursuit of the American dream. Throughout their short-lived long-distance friendship, their relationship serves as a reminder of how far Nora has drifted from her Korean roots, yet also pulls her back to them. He’s one of the only ones to still call her by her Korean name, Na Young, a name even her own mother barely uses. He also mentions that her Korean has become rusty, which she explains by saying she only speaks it with him and her mother. However, their friendship compels her to start typing in Korean too, showing how it’s drawing her back to her culture.
A touching moment in the film underscores Nora’s inner conflict regarding her Korean heritage: her calling for a “break” from Hae Sung. Struggling to balance her longing for him with her commitment to the life she built for herself in New York, Nora finds it challenging to maintain their friendship. I couldn’t help but cry at this scene, as it struck a chord with me. It sheds light on the ugly truth of the immigrant American dream, the sacrifice of leaving so much behind.
In contrast to her relationship with Hae Sung, Nora’s relationship with Arthur embodies a sentiment expressed by Nora’s mother early in the film, which I believe encapsulates the essence of the two relationships: “If you leave something behind, you gain something too.”
While Arthur may be an outsider to Nora’s Korean heritage, he represents understanding and comfort to her ambitious, driven writer self, sharing her dreams. He even endeavors to embrace the parts of her he doesn’t fully comprehend by attempting to learn Korean. However, there’s an underlying sense of insecurity within him, fearing that regardless of his efforts, the part of Nora’s identity that he is unfamiliar with will allow Hae Sung to possibly win her over. Even when describing Hae Sung to Arthur, she primarily characterizes him by his Korean identity, highlighting what he represents to her.
This insecurity in Arthur brought forth a question that I suppose has always been in the back of my mind: does one ever truly feel at home in America? Will Arthur ever be able to make up for this part of Nora that he doesn’t know?
But I suppose the same questions can be asked in reverse. After all these years, will Hae Sung be able to adapt to this new Westernized version of Nora, or is he fixated on the image he holds of his childhood friend?
Arthur is symbolic of the American dream, almost overtly so. He represents not just assimilation, but also Nora’s ambitions and the life she had tirelessly worked to create. In a candid moment, he asks Nora if the life they’re living is what she had envisioned when she moved, to which she responds “you’re asking me if you, Arthur Zaturansky, are the answer to my family’s immigrant dream?” He’s not a figure of idealized beauty or wealth, but rather a regular guy who deeply cares for her. While Nora has harbored ambitious dreams, her reality with Arthur and as a writer is much more ordinary in comparison. But it’s still a happy one. At no point does it appear that Nora is dissatisfied with the life she is living.
However, that doesn’t erase the longing she may feel for Hae Sung, Seoul and the part of her they represent.
To me, the title of the film, “Past Lives,” perfectly captures its essence – the duality of Nora, her past and her present. Nora has shed so many aspects of her former identity – from her language and name to her relationships. In doing so, she has effectively evolved into a different person altogether, reflecting a fundamental shift in her being. A line from the screenplay vividly underscores this idea. When Arthur encounters Hae Sung for the first time, he intuitively recognizes him as an “important person from another life of the woman he loves.” This idea that her childhood in Korea and the years she spent there is a previous life of hers is heavily embedded in the movie, and I think is ultimately the driving force behind why she chooses to let go of Hae Sung in the end, regardless of how painful it may be for her. It is simply no longer the life she is living now, the life she’s been building for herself since she left at 12.
Despite being just a small fraction in the grand scheme of life, those 12 years in Korea hold a profound significance for Nora. It’s been almost nine years since I moved to the U.S., so one would assume I’d be past dwelling on the “what ifs.” However, I find myself contemplating them nearly everyday. Witnessing Nora’s journey has made me realize that these memories and my longing may never truly fade away. It might become duller and less painful as time goes on, but I suppose it’ll never truly disappear.
While the ending of the film left many feeling heartbroken as Nora had to let go of Hae Sung, understanding that their love wasn’t destined to be in this lifetime, I found it strangely hopeful and uplifting.
It was clear that reaching some form of closure was a necessity, not only for Nora but primarily for Hae Sung to move on. Letting go of a relationship that tied her to her “what ifs” and past was undoubtedly a painful experience for Nora. Hae Sung served as a source of comfort and familiarity for a part of Nora’s identity that she had hidden away. Despite the emotional weight of this connection, Nora’s choice to release it highlights the absence of love being a predetermined destiny with an overarching “right person.” Instead, it portrays the reality of relationships, that they are contingent upon what feels best for an individual at a given moment in their life. Her choice emphasized her prioritization of her current self and circumstances over the past. However, it wasn’t an easy conclusion for Nora to accept. Yet, amidst the emotional turmoil, a moment emerged that ceased my sobbing and oddly filled me with contentment: the comfort that Arthur provided her. Holding his wife while she wept over another man couldn’t have been easy, yet it showcased the depth of his genuine love and understanding for her. It also highlighted the profound level of comfort and trust she felt with him. Nora didn’t feel the need to conceal her emotions; instead, she could be openly vulnerable with him. This type of relationship is one that is built over time, and while it might seem like a stretch, it made me ponder the connection between immigrants who arrive at a young age and their connection to their life in the U.S. Despite any yearning for what could have been or struggles with assimilation, the passage of time eventually transforms the new life they’ve built into their true home, eclipsing the romanticized memories of the past. It’s a bittersweet feeling.
Ultimately, while “Past Lives” delves into the themes of longing and nostalgia, it also sheds light on the resilience and adaptability inherent in the immigrant narrative. As Nora confronts the duality of her identity and ultimately finds closure, we are reminded of the transformative power of time and the ability to forge new beginnings. While the past might shape us, it is our present choices that define our journey toward a hopeful future.
