The Art of Conversation (from Afar)

How finishing a favorite film trilogy inspired this writer to reassess her Zoom hangouts with friends, and how a world built on language might be sturdier than she thought.

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Photo courtesy of Warner Independent Pictures.

Last weekend, after a busy handful of days at work (or rather, at work-from-home), I finally decided to sit down and watch the third and final—as far as we know—film in Richard Linklater’s Before trilogy. The fact that these films exist in the first place is a little bit of a movie miracle: for the uninitiated, Ethan Hawke and Julie Delpy play the same characters, Jesse and Céline, two twenty-something strangers who meet on a train in Berlin, over the course of eighteen years. Not eighteen movie years, mind you, but eighteen years in real life. In 1995’s Before Sunrise, they are two people who fall in love and part after a single day together; in 2004’s Before Sunset, they are thirty-somethings reconnecting in Paris after Jesse publishes a popular book fictionalizing their initial meeting; and in 2013’s Before Midnight, they have been together for nine years, with twin daughters and a stepson, and spend a day in a small Grecian village where Jesse has been granted audience with a famous resident writer. The fact that Linklater, Hawke, and Delpy were able to unite through the decades to advance the story of Jesse and Céline is remarkable enough, but even more remarkable is the fact that the films, through time and culture and age, maintain their momentum not through special effects or intrinsic cinematography or beautiful costuming, but through the two leads’ never-ending conversation which structures the films and drives the entire plot of the trilogy—namely, two kindred spirits exploring each other’s ideas about love and life. 

Sitting alone in my bed at home, fresh off a four-way video chat with friends in California, Oregon, and New York (a weekly routine since lockdown began in late March), it struck me as I stared once again at a screen, watching other people talk to each other, how much a relationship these days—whether platonic or romantic—depends upon the art of conversation. Small bodily ticks are limited to what can be seen from the chest-up; elbow nudges and noogies are out of the realm of possibility; and what with wifi being what it is, even a nuanced turn of the head or slight sway of the voice can be interrupted by shoddy signals, disrupting the flow of intention, or even just information. When all this happens amongst several people at once, each occupying a small square of a small computer screen, the importance of patience is paramount. Speak all at once, and the words turn to mush. But listening carefully, and in turns, with each person speaking their mind before opening up the floor to a new opinion, a new story—suddenly the hour fills not just with anecdotes about the doldrums of the day-in-quarantine, but of “What do you think?” and “Can you go into more detail?” and “Thank you for listening, it’s a lot to get off my chest.” The gains of the gathering depend mostly on the quality and quantity of ideas given space to occupy a precious amount of time. 

The downside, of course, is that a heightened conversation often demands a physical closeness, a desire to see and touch, even if to slap a high-five or shove someone playfully off a sidewalk. Jesse and Céline, after all, lose touch after their first meeting in Berlin. Only when they see each other once more in Paris do they reignite their common spark. 

And yet. The ending of Before Midnight—don’t worry, no major spoilers here—sees Jesse and Céline create an argument out of a failure to communicate. Céline begins to think that perhaps they just can’t live this way, and it seems like their relationship might really be over. But then again, this is the Before trilogy. What happens after the present moment? Learning how to speak to fill the void, and learning to listen, to backtrack, to clarify, to entwine your brain into a world made of language—surely that, too, is building the structure of a world made flesh again. The before has always been happening, with or without COVID-19. As for the after? Well, why don’t we talk about it? 

Have any anecdotes from video chat conversations during COVID-19? Share them in the comments below!

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