It’s a rarity to encounter a film that exists in a state of dissonance, from the peak of beauty to the despair of frustration. Maybe the dissonance is built into the film as an intentional conversion in subtext.
Lionel Worthing (Paul Mescal) has always had a special relationship with music since his childhood, able to feel it, see it, and manipulate it. This is all the way from an upbringing on a Kentucky rural farm in 1917 to the Boston Conservatory to study music. And this is where he crosses paths with fellow student and composer David White (Josh O’Connor). The bond survives as David is drafted and upon his return in 1919 he asked Lionel to join him on a trip collecting and recording folk songs, a trip that has a marked impact on their lives.
The remarkable thing that elevates the beauty throughout the movie is the staging, whether sitting in a bare field in Kentucky or running through a verdant one in Maine, the film connects you with the land. Sometimes the connection hits you with the harshness of it all, other times, it tugs as an emotional comforter. Folk songs bring out the beauty, the reverence to songs we sing around the camp-fire, to help make sense of the world around us. The cast is ever present to iterate the non-verbal aspect of the film. They speak volumes through their eyes. Josh O’Connor nails it. There’s more layers to everything he says, in the manner in which he holds himself, with subtle inflection. Paul Mescal is the anchor of the narrative and with his performance helps the connection to the story.
While there’s a lot about the film to adore, there is a core component that frustrates, particularly the desire to keep everything in the margins, in the subtext, especially in the slow second act. Its drawn out pace, and perhaps familiar trajectory, perhaps undermines the potential to truly surprise, still THE HISTORY OF SOUND offers nonetheless, a visually stunning and well-acted journey through its melancholic exploration of human connection.
The film’s craftsmanship is sublime, elevated by strong performances and haunting music, yet held back by its own politeness. It listens intently to the past but rarely raises its voice in the present. Director Oliver Hermanus’ film is etched in love snd silence, and he stages the film like a carefully preserved artefact, polished, reverent, and faintly distant.
THE HISTORY OF SOUND unfolds with deliberate calm, tracing meetings, separations, and reunions across the years and landscapes. Its a period romance that uses restraint almost to the point of self-denial. There is beauty in its composure, but also a nagging sense that conflict arrives too gently, like a knock that doesn’t develop into a bang. The film wants to be about longing and memory, yet often feels like a collection of moments than a surge of feelings.
Paul Mescal portrays Lionel as inward and passive, a man of extraordinary musical gift that contrasts with his emotional reserve. Josh O’Connor’s David is more animated, witty and restless, the film brightening whenever he is on screen. Together they share an unforced chemistry that feels lived-in rather than theatrical. The character imbalance becomes an issue when Lionel’s interior life remains opaque, making it harder to fully invest in his choices once David recedes. O’Connor, by contrast, leaves a strong imprint and his absence in the film is keenly felt.
Visually the film is brilliant, elevated by strong performances and haunting music.
