Before Sunrise Reimagined: Céline & Jesse in Tokyo 

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When walking through the liminal spaces of Tokyo, through the overpasses, crossings, underground passageways, or small side roads, I am most often heading to or rushing towards a commitment. When I do get a moment, after work hours or on days off, I tend to linger around, walk at a slower pace and reflect in these pockets of the city, realizing that I really haven’t mastered Tokyo life at all.  There is so much of the world and an abundance of knowledge available in this city that I can never truly forgo the role of student. Frankly, I have no desire to. I long to always be lost, transformed and affected by this city and by its light.

Its meditative and contemplative energy reminds me of one of my favorite films, Richard Linklater’s Before Sunrise (the first part of a trilogy) which is originally set in Vienna, Austria. A story not so much about a city itself, but about the connection and reflections of two people, Céline (a French student) and Jesse (an American tourist), that are nurtured by and through a place. A new city or the untraveled road can at times reveal our deepest thoughts, whether it is to a friend, a stranger or to ourselves, which might have otherwise stayed asleep in us, unadorned and unargued. 

I first watched this film on a plane in 2019, at the start of my shakaijin (working adult) life in Japan, but during a recent rewatch on my seventh year in the country (albeit, still as naive and unsure), I reimagined my now-home that is Tokyo, a place now so ingrained in me, as a potential backdrop to the carousel of their intimate moments. 

Train Stations and Beginnings 

On a Eurail train departing from Budapest, Hungary, Céline and Jesse share a train car with an arguing couple. Unamused, she moves closer to Jesse’s seat, prompting their first exchange of glances between the pages of their book. Jesse initiates a conversation asking, “Do you speak English?”

Among the handful of times I’ve been asked this same question on a Tokyo commuter train, all but one have come from tourists seeking directions. Never has the situation gone so far as being asked the question, “What are you reading?” Trains here are the physical embodiment of the philosophical concept of ma 間 (a pause in time). Commuters sit in silence, honor this pause in their day, and if reading, carry a book with a paper cover, hiding the contents of its story. 

As the green, open fields surround them between the journey from Budapest towards Vienna, I look back on the Shinkansen route I’ve taken numerous times from Kyoto to Tokyo, listening to Bon Iver’s eponymous album, snacking on JagaRico, while admiring the plump, mountainous terrains.  Upon arrival at Tokyo Station, I reimagine Jesse’s proposal to Céline as, “I really think you should get off this train with me, so we can check out Tokyo together.”

Strangers in a City 

To be new to a city is to allow yourself to rely on its people to show you the way. If I were to bump into such a couple in front of Tokyo Station, my biased love of west Tokyo would say, “You should take the Chuo Line, directly to Kichijoji from here. Whatever you’re into, something to your liking should be there.”

The first intimate scene between Céline and Jesse happens to be in a record store’s music booth at Vienna’s, ALT & NEU. It’s there where they first stare at each other, never at the same time, with a burning desire to know each other. When in Kichijoji, I think of Coconuts Disk, a seven-minute walk from the station, a keeper of genres of a wide range between Jazz and Japanese Rock, old and new.

One of the very first times my fiancé and I visited a record store in together, specifically Flash Disc Ranch in Shimokitazawa, I remember glancing at his music choices as he ran his fingers through the Rock and Hip-Hop placards, thinking, “So, this is how he sees and listens to the world.”

Scenery & Secrets

Post first-kiss, Jesse and Céline sit in the heart of Franziskanerplatz, near the Franciscan Monastery in Vienna’s old town. They share coffee and secrets, eventually having their palms read. If the scene were juxtaposed with an autumn day in west Tokyo, I picture them embarking on a 20-minute bus ride from Kichijoji Station to Jindaiji, one of the oldest standing temples in Tokyo. In lieu of coffee, an anmitsu (Japanese traditional sweet combining fruits, sweet bean paste, and black sugar syrup) and sencha (green tea) — both of them people watching amidst the sound of families, a brisk wind through the trees, and a shopkeeper’s irrashaimase (words of welcome). 

A Poem, An Ema 

My favorite scene in the film is carried by a poet, who, alongside the Danube, writes the duo a poem using a word that Céline picks at random. Milkshake.  

Daydream delusion, limousine eyelash
Oh baby with your pretty face
Drop a tear in my wineglass.
Look at those big eyes
See what you mean to me
Sweet-cakes and milkshakes

Poems can hold regrets or wishes, endings or beginnings. In Jesse and Céline’s case, the latter. Stepping into Jindaiji, you can find ema, which are small wooden plaques covered in dreams or wishes written by temple visitors. These are hung near temple grounds, close enough for the messages to be received by the Gods and Spirits.

I wish for my grandmother’s good health.
I hope to find the love of my life in the next year.
I wish for world peace.

Parks & Goodbyes

As Jesse and Céline share one of their last moments together lying in the grass, surrounded by the chirping of crickets, I think of suzumushi  (bell crickets), the quintessential sound of a Japanese autumn. If they were to have spent their final hours together here in Tokyo, I can’t help but think they would return to Inokashira Park. Though gloomy and dimly lit in the night hours, by the benches overlooking the pond, there would be no shortage of possible and honest conversations. 

During the making of this film, Ethan Hawke (Jesse) and Julie Delpy (Céline), often added their personalized monologue, jotting down personal notes to their screenplay, altogether making the film their own. Tokyo travel, similarly, is an improvisation of sorts. You can curate the journey as you go by asking a stranger, or by trusting your instincts and attention. Unlike a pre-determined movie script, the city becomes a canvas. Or potentially, an unfolding and unraveling love story for the cinematic ages. 

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