THE FILM’S QUIET BEAUTY IS WOVEN WITH AMERICAN FOLK SONGS, BUT THE MUSIC DROWNS OUT ESSENTIAL THEMES
The History of Sound is a passionate love letter to American folk songs, and a lilting plea for their preservation and recognition for their cultural significance. Though brimming with powerful human emotions like love, nostalgia, and regret, the film gradually loses steam. The story becomes bloated with superfluous moments meant to fill the unnecessary 2-hour runtime, and haul the initially compelling story to its conclusion.
Based on a short story by author and screenwriter Ben Shattuck of the same name, we follow Lionel’s (Paul Mescal) life from its dawn until dusk, which begins on a rural Kentucky farm. He later becomes enthralled by David (Josh O’Connor) while studying music at the Boston Conservatory. His new lover whisks him away through the crisp winter forests of New England in the early 1900s, with a mission to collect American folk songs on Edison’s phonograph cylinders for posterity.
Lionel has synesthesia, a phenomenon causing sensory crossovers, which causes him to “see” sound and music. Director Oliver Hermanus and cinematographer Alexander Dynan do a fine job capturing small moments to symbolize this; during a particularly gripping sequence, Lionel gets wrapped up in an invisible, rope-like tune. His eyes closed, he begins to spin dangerously close to a crackling fire. He steps in time to a haunting and building melody only he seems to hear and feel deep within, red sparks whizzing past him, as though the rope coiled around his body is being yanked free.
Though the film is ambitiously titled The History of Sound, it completely glosses over the cultural riches of other communities present in America at the time, such as Native Americans, European immigrants, and Asian Americans, among others. David and Lionel have a brief encounter with formerly enslaved Black people on Malaga Island, but there is no other ethnic or racial diversity represented.
However, we have proof that it can be done: Sinners, released in April 2025, manages to weave together a narrative of African American slaves, Chinese shopkeepers, the Mississippi Choctaw, and Irish potato famine refugees. Enthralling musical numbers marry rock’n’roll, blues, hip hop, African tribal music, gospel, xiqu, and Irish folk music, paying tribute to the ethnic and racial diversity represented.
Another essential theme The History of Sound failed to explore was the stigma, persecution, medical treatments, and even murder that homosexuals faced back in early 20th-century America; Lionel and David are openly intimate with one another in public, and no one bats an eye. The film also fails to dive deeper into what it means to be shell-shocked, only portraying its stifled aftermath when David returns from serving in World War I.
The performances were strong, but Mescal and O’Connor lacked chemistry together on-screen; I didn’t find myself particularly moved by their relationship. Many critics compared the narrative to Brokeback Mountain (2005), starring Heath Ledger and Jake Gyllenhaal. Though the two films share a similar premise – an unbridled gay love story unapologetically unfurled against a stunning natural backdrop – we don’t get emotionally attached to either character. David is unreliable and evasive, the 1900s version of a situationship, and Lionel is too timid to make us care about his predicament; even though we watch him the entire film, it’s difficult to know exactly what’s going on in his head.
Though folk music isn’t usually my cup of tea, I was impressed by the fact that both Paul Mescal and Josh O’Connor do their own singing in the film. The songs throughout are raw and pure, relying only on vocals and simple instruments, like the piano and the fiddle.
The simplicity of the music, usually raw vocals, are a testament to the film’s desperate attempt to capture the complex beauty and devastating ephemerality of the human experience, like catching a lightning bug in a jar. However, modern times are illuminated by light bulbs, causing such simple pleasures to be forgotten.
Nowadays, one can listen to a song from the 1910s on repeat through their Bluetooth headphones – in a world where music transcends time and space, and can even be generated by artificial intelligence, it is no longer a precious ressource requiring physical archives.
Though it can unite millions through online and in-person events and concerts, it has become an opportunity for venues to charge ludicrous amounts of money for concert tickets. The unfortunate occupants of the nose-bleed seats will have to watch the show through the sea of smartphones being held up to record the performer onstage – the illustration that people would rather live in their recorded memories rather than the moment itself. If you don’t feel like going into debt for a dopamine rush from a concert, music streaming services inundate your queue with insufferable ads and force you to pay a subscription in order to get rid of them.
Nevertheless, if you do end up giving this film a chance, the epilogue succeeded in causing a lump to rise in my throat; Lionel, now an old man, is unexpectedly plunged back into his musical past.
The scene reminded me strongly of my paternal grandfather, who has always adored music and loves to blast classical music throughout his house. As a child, he would wait for his favorite songs to come on the radio in the morning, which sometimes almost made him late for school. It was a different time then; the film begs us to never forget that music wasn’t always available at the touch of a button or automatically stored in the cloud, inviting us to pause to better appreciate what we have now.
