Some films build their drama through explosive confrontations and dramatic twists. Past Lives (2023) does the opposite. Celine Song's debut feature tells a quiet story about two childhood friends from Seoul who reconnect over the years, and it finds enormous emotional power in what its characters choose not to say. The screenplay earned Academy Award nominations for Best Picture and Best Original Screenplay, and it offers screenwriters a masterclass in restraint.
Still from 'Past Lives' (2023). Photo credit: A24
An Opening That Invites the Audience In
The film opens in a bar, with three people sitting together late at night. We hear unseen strangers trying to guess how they are connected. Is the woman with the Korean man or the American man? Are they siblings, colleagues, lovers?
It is a simple idea, but it is very effective. Before we know anything about these characters, we are asked to read their body language and imagine their story. The opening tells us how to watch the rest of the film: carefully, paying attention to looks, pauses and small gestures. It also creates a question that the film will spend the rest of its running time answering.
A Structure Built on Time
Past Lives is divided into three sections, each separated by twelve years. We first meet Nora and Hae Sung as children in Seoul, shortly before Nora's family emigrates. We then see them as young adults reconnecting through video calls, and finally as adults in their thirties when Hae Sung visits Nora in New York, where she now lives with her husband, Arthur.
These time jumps do a lot of work. Rather than showing every step of the characters' lives, the screenplay lets the audience fill in the gaps. We feel the weight of the years that have passed because we have not seen them. Each section is also built around a missed connection, which makes the final reunion feel inevitable and heartbreaking at the same time.
A Love Triangle Without a Villain
A more conventional script might have made Arthur an obstacle, a jealous husband standing between two people who belong together. Song avoids this entirely. Arthur is kind, thoughtful and aware of what is happening. In one of the film's most memorable scenes, he talks openly with Nora about his insecurity, acknowledging how the story might look from the outside.
By refusing to give the audience someone to blame, the screenplay makes the situation far more complex. Nobody has done anything wrong. The tension comes from the fact that life has taken these people in different directions, and there is no easy answer. That is much harder to write than a simple rivalry, but it is also far more truthful.
The Idea of In-Yun
Early in the film, Nora explains the Korean concept of in-yun, the idea that people's paths cross across many lifetimes, and that even a brief connection reflects something that has happened before. It becomes the emotional backbone of the story.
What is clever is how the screenplay uses this idea without letting it become a neat solution. In-yun allows the characters to talk about their feelings without saying them directly. When Hae Sung and Nora discuss what they might have been to each other in a past life, or what they might be in the next one, they are really talking about the present. It is a beautiful example of subtext, giving characters a way to express something they cannot say outright.
Silence as Dialogue
The film's final sequence is almost wordless. Nora walks Hae Sung to his car, and the two of them stand in silence as they wait for it to arrive. The pause stretches on, and the audience feels every second of it. Nothing dramatic happens, yet it is one of the most intense moments in the film.
This is only possible because the screenplay has spent so much time building the relationship. By the time we reach that silence, we understand everything the characters are not saying. When Nora finally walks back home and breaks down in Arthur's arms, the emotional release is overwhelming precisely because it has been held back for so long.
What Screenwriters Can Learn
Past Lives shows that a screenplay does not need big plot twists to hold an audience. It needs characters with real desires, a structure that gives those desires room to grow, and the confidence to let quiet moments speak for themselves.
If you are writing an intimate drama, consider where your characters could say less. Look for places where a silence, a glance or a conversation about something else could carry the emotion. Trust your audience to feel what is happening beneath the surface. As Past Lives proves, what is left unsaid can be the most powerful part of a story.
