The opening shot of “Past Lives“—writer-director Celine Song‘s debut feature-length film—introduces us to its three primary characters: Nora (Greta Lee; “Gemini,” 2018), Hae Sung (Teo Yoo; “Equals,” 2016), and Arthur (John Magaro; “The Many Saints of Newark,” 2021). As the camera takes its sweet time pushing in from a mid-shot of the trio at the bar to a close-up of Nora’s face betraying her discomfort, we hear a woman’s disembodied voice asking her friend, “Who do you think they are to each other?”

As the film progresses, one thing becomes clear: we’re the inquisitive friends we hear in the beginning; the shot is framed as a direct perspective from the eyes of the two, made evident when Nora breaks the fourth wall, looking directly at us before the narrative takes flight. The relationship Song wants viewers to have with her creation is of voyeurism. We’re people-watching here, on an almost intrusive level, to the point that we’ll likely ask ourselves if we’re the antagonists of this star-crossed romance. 

This kind of framing is the most singular feature of “Past Lives.” 

Taking place over 24 years, the film gives its viewers a bird’s eye view of Nora and Hae Sung, two childhood friends in Seoul who are about to experience a rift in their interpersonal lives when the former ends up migrating with her family to Canada. 12 years later, Nora is an aspiring playwright living in New York and reconnects with Hae Sung, who’s still back in South Korea, online. Sparks fly, but distance gets in the way, and they break it off. Another 12 years pass and Nora’s now in love with—and married to—Arthur, but because life is a road filled with speed bumps, Hae Sung is in New York for a short vacation and wants to catch up.

“I was just thinking about how good this story is,” Arthur tells Nora as they prepare for bed somewhere in the movie’s second half. He’s not wrong; if this was another movie, Nora would be vibing to a jazz classic, telling him, “Baby, you are going to miss that plane,” with Hae Sung responding, “I know.” But “Past Lives” is not that movie. It’s directed by Song, whose story is—by her own admission—semi-autobiographical, which in turn layers a sense of realism in the woven artifice of narrative fiction. 

What viewers see as a result is visual poetry, waxing lyrical about fate and providence, shot entirely on 35mm film by cinematographer Shabier Kirchner (“Bull,” 2020) for a gorgeously textured aesthetic that feels seductively—and deceptively—nostalgic. Kirchner gives Song’s lovingly crafted blend of ennui, existentialism, and quiet emotional devastation an intentional rose-tinted sense of cinematic hope. It fits perfectly in the wheelhouse of soaring, intoxicating romance—think Peter Chelsom’s “Serendipity” (2001)—of lovers destined to reunite against all odds.

In this story,” Arthur muses, “I’d be the evil white American husband standing in the way of destiny.” Played with an earnest gentleness, Magaro’s portrayal of Nora’s husband is anything but. He wears his vulnerability on his sleeve and continues to help his wife see her chapter through despite his face visibly betraying his terror of losing her. He’s almost like a surprise main character of “Past Lives,” whose interactions with Nora are filmed with a sense of comforting intimacy that does the additional job of elevating his character arc into a symbol of unconditional love and empathy.

Nora and Hae Sung, on the other hand, feel like archetypes you’d find in a romance drama, which works beautifully when you realize that their archetypal nature works solely to subvert the genre’s platitudes. As the reunited childhood friends take a walk, catching up on each others’ lives, most shots are framed either from almost far off, reinforcing our role as curious voyeurs in this story, or using long lenses, almost like you’re using binoculars to spy on them, projecting your hopes for them onto the story. 

Kirchner’s decision to frame most shots featuring the two in this fashion works so well for the story that the illusion shatters into a million pieces when we see them in a more intimate setting in its final act. As the credits roll and we’re given a moment to think about the movie in retrospect, it all just… hits different. And it’s what makes “Past Lives” all the more remarkable as a movie about the bittersweet intensity of love and longing.

Using the archetypal callbacks of the cinematically sweeping feeling of love against all odds, writer-director Celine Song has—with “Past Lives”—crafted a masterful, heartbreaking, and haunting meditation on love, longing, and the power of unconditional, radical empathy. It’s a dazzling debut of an artist who uses cerebral filmmaking to narrate an achingly personal account—which shouldn’t work in theory, but—against all odds, does. Highly recommended.