P.S. (2004) unfolds like a quiet echo from the past suddenly carried into the present, drawing Louise Harrington into an emotional puzzle she never expected to face. Working as a university admissions officer, she leads a steady, carefully structured life—until a young applicant walks into her office and unsettles everything she thought she had put to rest.
Scott isn’t just talented or charming; he mirrors the first love Louise lost decades earlier. His voice, his art, even his mannerisms strike chords she believed were long silent. What begins as curiosity slips into something deeper, a connection that feels eerily familiar, as if time itself has folded back to offer her a second chance at a love she never truly let go.
The film thrives on this unsettling parallel. Louise’s relationship with Scott becomes a delicate dance between longing and uncertainty, desire and doubt. Each encounter pulls her further into a space where memory and reality blur. The story doesn’t rush; it lets the emotional tension expand slowly, allowing viewers to feel the pull of a past that refuses to stay buried.
As her personal life entangles with her professional responsibilities, Louise faces questions that challenge everything she believes about grief, destiny, and the possibility of reincarnation. The film invites viewers to consider whether love can circle back into a life in unexpected form—and what happens when the heart refuses to accept the finality of loss.
