← back
Before Sunrise poster

Before Sunrise

1995 · Richard Linklater

For a cozy night in when you want to fall in love — or to remember what it felt like. Pure comfort, but the kind that leaves you wistful for days.

What it's about

Two strangers — an American guy, a French woman — meet on a train and impulsively get off in Vienna to spend one night walking and talking before his flight home. There's no plot beyond the clock: record shops, tram cars, cafés, cemeteries, and a conversation about life and love that keeps deepening as the hours run out, both of them knowing this may be all they get.

The experience

Warm, unhurried, and quietly swoony — it feels like eavesdropping on the best conversation of two people's lives. The romance sneaks up on you, and the ticking clock gives even the lightest banter a bittersweet edge.

Performances

Ethan Hawke and Julie Delpy have chemistry that feels documentary-real — they shaped the dialogue with Linklater, and it shows in every overlapping, stumbling, alive exchange.

The craft

Richard Linklater's audacity is structural: no obstacle, no villain, just long unhurried takes that let conversation breathe, double back, and bloom, with Vienna as a dreamy nocturnal backdrop. The craft hides itself — the walking-and-talking looks effortless precisely because the timing and staging are so precise.

Why it matters

It won Linklater the Silver Bear for direction at Berlin, confirmed him as American cinema's great filmmaker of talk and time, and launched one of the most beloved ongoing love stories in movies.

Essays & theory: a reading of Before Sunrise →

Reception & legacy: how Before Sunrise was received, argued over, and remembered →

Two strangers meet on a train and step off in Vienna with nothing but one night and an unspoken agreement to actually talk — and from this near-nothing, Richard Linklater built one of the most beloved romances in American cinema. The audacity is structural: no obstacle, no villain, no plot beyond time itself running out. Just Ethan Hawke and Julie Delpy walking, in long unhurried takes that let conversation breathe and stumble and double back, through record-shop listening booths, tram cars, and cemeteries, while the film quietly asks whether a connection can be complete in itself. Linklater, fresh from Slacker and Dazed and Confused, won the Silver Bear for direction at Berlin, confirming him as the great American filmmaker of talk and time — obsessions that would culminate in Boyhood. Both actors shaped their dialogue with him (formally credited by the sequels), and the film's texture of real thought emerging in real time became a template for two decades of walking-and-talking romances, none of which quite match it. What no one knew in 1995: the ambiguous farewell was not an ending but a hinge, the first panel of a triptych that would check in on these two every nine years.

Lines of influence

Appears in courses

More essays on Richard Linklater’s films