Which Streaming Services Currently Host Before Sunrise 2 Worldwide?

Picking this up as a cinephile who always gets distracted by soundtracks, I can tell you that the film people often call 'Before Sunrise 2' is actually 'Before Sunset'—and it doesn't have a single, sweeping composer in the way a blockbuster would. What struck me the first time I watched it on a rainy weekend was how quiet the film feels musically: there’s almost no orchestral score trying to cue your emotions. Instead, Richard Linklater and the filmmakers leaned hard into diegetic music and small, intimate pieces—some of which were written and performed by the actors themselves, most notably Julie Delpy, who contributed original songs that blend into the film’s world rather than towering over it. That choice wasn’t accidental. From what I’ve read and felt watching the trilogy, Linklater’s whole approach is conversational realism: the films exist to capture the chemistry and dialogue between Ethan Hawke and Julie Delpy (and later, their lives and choices). A big, manipulative score would have shifted attention away from those fragile, human moments. So the practical “who composed it” answer becomes more of a “who shaped it”: the director’s vision, the actors’ musical contributions, and the sound editors who placed everyday music into cafés, streets, and apartments. If you dig into interviews, you’ll find Linklater and his collaborators talking about preserving the authenticity of each scene, which is why the soundtrack feels like background life rather than an emotional narrator. If you want a concrete name to latch onto, note that Julie Delpy’s songwriting for the later films is a real creative fingerprint—she’s not just acting but adding musical texture. But the wider reason for the sparse soundtrack is aesthetic: the trilogy prioritizes conversation and naturalism, so the music’s job is to be a believable part of the world (a busker’s guitar, a radio song) rather than an invisible composer telling you how to feel. It’s a subtle approach that rewards rewatching; each time I stare longer at a scene, I notice how deliberately small the musical choices are, and it makes the dialogue feel even more honest.

There’s something quietly brutal and beautiful about how 'Before Sunset' reframes Jesse and Celine — it doesn’t mythologize their original romance from 'Before Sunrise', it humanizes it. Standing nine years later, they’re not just versions of that one electric night; they’re people shaped by choices, regrets, and compromises. Jesse shows up older in ways that matter: his shortcuts with time, his defensiveness when confronted with sincerity, and the way he’s chased a dream that left little room for emotional consequences. Celine is sharper, more clear-eyed; her idealism hasn’t disappeared, but it’s been tempered by experience. The film reveals that their chemistry wasn’t a fluke, but neither was it a simple solution to the messier parts of life. Watching them talk in real time felt like overhearing two friends who once slept under the stars now talking about mortgages and books and the texture of disappointment. Jesse’s success as a writer — and the book he wrote about their night — becomes a mirror: it gave him a public narrative, but also reopened private wounds. Celine’s reactions to being immortalized on paper show how intimacy and fame can collide in awkward ways. Their conversation peels back layers: the longing beneath casual banter, the small resentments that built up over years, and the humility that comes with admitting you’re not the person you once pictured yourself being. It’s less about whether they fall back in love and more about whether they can honestly face what that love meant, then and now. On a personal note, seeing them walk the streets of Paris while time does its slow work felt like being in a late-night chat with a friend who’s finally talking about something they’ve kept to themselves for years. The film reveals that love can be sustained by memory and language — they are bonded by conversation as much as anything physical — but it also shows the cruelty of timing. In the end, 'Before Sunset' makes me think of all the crossroads I’ve had where a brave conversation might’ve changed everything, and it leaves me somewhere between hope and melancholy, wanting both closure and the messy possibility of another meeting.

There are nights when a film sticks to your chest like a familiar song, and 'Before Sunset' does that to me every single time. I won't paste long swathes of the screenplay here, but I love returning to a handful of short, razor-clear lines and lots of little paraphrases that capture the movie's emotional gravity. One line I often replay in my head is short and brutal: "You talk so you don't think." It lands every time — a tiny accusation that doubles as affection and a mirror. Beyond that small direct snippet, what I keep circling back to are moments that work like compact philosophy: Celine and Jesse trading regrets about choices and missed chances; their late-in-the-day confession that memory sweetens and distorts; the quiet observation that love and curiosity are not the same thing but painfully entangled. I like to summarize a few of my favorite beats in my own words — they aren't verbatim, but they get the feeling across. For example: one speaker points out how little of a life you actually get to live, and another replies by measuring life by the depth of attention you pay to people you love. There's also that quiet, wry complaint about modern life — we pass through cities and relationships like we pass through newspaper headlines. If you're hunting for lines to tattoo on your heart or text to a friend at 2 a.m., lean into the small, true sentences: confessions about being scared of living, the admission that sometimes we keep talking to avoid our real feelings, and the bittersweet idea that meeting someone again later can hurt just as much as it heals. Rereading those moments feels like sitting on a Paris bench at dusk: the light is honest, and the conversation is criminally intimate. If you want, I can pull a few more tiny verbatim snippets under 90 characters and point you to good places to read the full screenplay or watch the film, but for me the magic lives equally in the pauses between lines — the look, the silence, the city outside.

Walking back into the world of 'Before Sunrise' via 'Before Sunset' is one of those rare movie experiences that feels like catching up with an old friend — imperfect, a little awkward, but startlingly intimate. In the first film, Jesse and Celine meet on a train, spend one electric night in Vienna, and promise to meet again in six months. 'Before Sunset' picks up nine years later and immediately addresses that broken promise: Jesse reveals he never made it back, and the two have to reconcile what that missed appointment did to their lives. The film builds on the exact emotional seeds planted in 'Before Sunrise' — the thrill of hypothetical intimacy, the vulnerability of confessing dreams — and then shows the consequences of time, distance, and real-world responsibilities. Cinematically and tonally the two films are siblings. Both are essentially long, walking conversations captured in real time, but 'Before Sunset' has the weight of hindsight. The reunion happens because Jesse has written a novel inspired by that Vienna night, and a Paris book event brings them face-to-face again. From a craft perspective, the same three voices — the director and the two lead actors — shaped the script, so the rhythm of banter, the philosophical riffs, and the tiny observational jokes all feel like authentic continued thought rather than a forced sequel. Locations change from Vienna’s dreamlike evening to Paris’s afternoon light, and that shift subtly signals the characters’ shift from romantic possibility to complicated reality. What I love most is how the second film reframes the original’s optimism without betraying it. In 'Before Sunrise' you fall in love with the idea of connection; in 'Before Sunset' you meet the people who had that night and then had to live the years between. Jesse and Celine are now layered by experiences — relationships, careers, obligations — and the conversation becomes less about hypothetical futures and more about accountability, regret, and whether two people can be honest enough to find each other in the present. If you loved the first movie’s romance, the second will make you ache in a different, deeper way. It’s perfect for watching on a rainy afternoon with a cup of coffee and a willingness to sit in unresolved feeling.

I’ve always been the kind of person who loves tracking down film locations while I travel, so when someone says 'Before Sunrise 2' I immediately think of the second film in Linklater’s trilogy — 'Before Sunset' — which was shot on location in Paris, France. The movie isn’t a studio-bound production; almost all of it was filmed out in the open, following Jesse and Celine as they wander through the Left Bank. Think the Latin Quarter, Saint-Germain-des-Prés vibes, the Seine-side streets and little maze-like lanes that feel like a living backdrop rather than a set. What I love about this movie’s location work is how alive the city feels: cafes, bookstores, apartments with those narrow Parisian staircases, and stretches along the river where people actually walk and chat. Richard Linklater used long takes and handheld camera work, so instead of polished, static establishing shots we get the real texture of Parisian life — ambient noise, passing locals, and unexpected storefronts. That makes it a delight to follow on foot; the film’s release in 2004 means the Paris you see is early-2000s, but the neighborhoods themselves haven’t changed that much. Fans often pair a screening of 'Before Sunrise' and 'Before Sunset' with a real walk around the Left Bank to spot places that look familiar. If you’re planning a pilgrimage, aim for the general area around the 5th and 6th arrondissements, cross the Seine, pop into independent English-language bookshops nearby, and linger at cafés with sidewalk seating. I once retraced a chunk of that walk on a rainy afternoon with a thermos and a dog-eared copy of a novel, and it felt uncanny how the city’s rhythm lines up with the film’s pacing. It’s less about a single pinpointed address and more about the stretch of Paris that lets two people talk, argue, and reconnect while the city hums around them — and honestly, that’s exactly why I keep going back.

I still get a little thrill thinking about how the sequel to 'Before Sunrise' landed back when it came out — if you meant the second film, that's 'Before Sunset' (2004). I saw it in a tiny theater where the projector hummed the whole time, and walking out I could hear people debating whether the movie had ruined or reinvented romantic realism. Critics mostly loved it: the consensus praised the razor-sharp, lived-in dialogue, the chemistry between Ethan Hawke and Julie Delpy, and Richard Linklater’s patient, conversational direction. A lot of reviewers pointed out that the film felt like a grown-up continuation rather than a gimmick, and that the co-writing credit shared by the two leads and the director gave the script its specific naturalism and emotional truth. I remember reading pieces that called it one of the best sequels ever made because it didn’t try to outdo the original with spectacle — it simply deepened the stakes. Not everyone was ecstatic, though. Some critics thought the movie was a touch too talky or theatrical; a few missed the spontaneous magic of the one-night romance in 'Before Sunrise' and found the nine-years-later reunion more contemplative than intoxicating. Others argued that the structure — a long walk and a long conversation across Paris — could feel stagey if you weren’t into intimate character studies. Still, the negative takes were the minority. Major voices like Roger Ebert and writers in papers such as The New York Times leaned positive, applauding how the film traded novelty for maturity. It also scored very high on aggregator sites and earned an Oscar nomination for Best Adapted Screenplay, which cemented its standing with critics. What I love is how the reviews ended up reflecting the movie’s own verve: thoughtful, divided, and alive to nuance. Critics tended to frame it as an emotionally honest look at missed chances, the compromises of adulthood, and the ache of memory, and because it didn’t force tidy answers, people kept talking about it. For me, that’s exactly why it resonated — both in the press and on the sidewalk after the credits. If you’re curious about reading contemporary reviews, look up pieces by Ebert and A. O. Scott from the time; they capture the mix of admiration and mild reservation that defined the critical reaction, and you’ll get a real sense of why the film still circulates in conversations about great sequels.

I still get a little thrill thinking about how 'Before Sunset' sneaks up on you — it’s the sequel to 'Before Sunrise' that everyone usually calls the “second” film, so when people say “Before Sunrise 2” they almost always mean 'Before Sunset'. The three of them form that lovely time-capsule trio: 'Before Sunrise' (1995), 'Before Sunset' (2004), and 'Before Midnight' (2013). The second movie was filmed in the summer of 2003: Richard Linklater reunited Ethan Hawke and Julie Delpy in Paris, and principal photography took place over a relatively short, intense period in mid-2003. The shoot had that intimate, on-location vibe — mostly walking through Parisian streets, cafés, and apartments — which is exactly what gives the film its conversational, lived-in energy. As for release, 'Before Sunset' arrived for audiences in 2004. It premiered on the festival circuit that year (it played at the Venice Film Festival in early September 2004) and then rolled out to theaters around the world over the rest of 2004. Different countries saw staggered release dates — some European territories and festival screenings came first, followed by wider releases in North America and elsewhere later that year. If you like nitty-gritty timelines, the important bits are: filmed July–August 2003 in Paris, festival premiere in 2004, and general theatrical release throughout 2004. I love how knowing those production and release gaps changes the way you watch the movie: the nine-year gap between the first and second film is woven right into the script and performances. That long interval is part of the magic — you can feel the real passage of time in their chemistry. If you want exact premiere and local release dates for a specific country, tell me which one and I’ll dig them up, but for a global shorthand, summer 2003 shoot and worldwide rollout through 2004 is the clean summary. Watching them back-to-back still hits me in the same tender place every time.

I get why you said 'Before Sunrise 2' — people mix up the trilogy all the time. What you almost certainly mean is the second film in the Linklater/Hawke/Delpy trilogy, 'Before Sunset'. I dug through my DVD/Blu‑ray notes and fan forums a few years back, and here’s the practical summary from different releases I’ve seen. There aren’t a ton of cut scenes the way you’d find for a big action movie — the film is famously composed of long, naturalistic takes, so most of what was trimmed are short extensions or alternate takes rather than whole deleted subplots. Across various editions I’ve checked (Region 1 and a European Blu‑ray), the extras include roughly 3–5 minutes of deleted/extended material broken into a few pieces: an early street/arrival extension (roughly 1–2 minutes), an expanded bit in the bookstore/used‑bookstand area (about 3–4 minutes), and a slightly longer take or two of the apartment/flat sequence near the end (around 2–3 minutes). Some releases also list an alternate or extended conversation/epilogue clip that runs a little longer — closer to the 4–5 minute mark — but that’s less consistently included. If you really need exact seconds, the cleanest way is to check the special features menu on the specific disc or the digital release: retailers like Criterion or Olive Films (and the original Warner/IFC discs) sometimes swap what’s included by region. My best estimate from comparing runtimes and playing the clips is that the total deleted footage across a typical special‑features package for 'Before Sunset' is in the 8–12 minute range. I’ve always found those extras charming because they’re small windows into Linklater’s improvisational rhythm rather than cut 'scenes' that change the story, so if you like the conversational texture of the movie, they’re worth watching. If you tell me which release you own or can access (DVD, Blu‑ray, Criterion, digital special edition), I can try to be more nitpicky about which exact clips and their durations show up on that version — I’ve cataloged a couple of editions while arguing this trilogy on forums, so I can look up specifics for you.