THE HISTORY OF SOUND. The Sounds of Loneliness [REVIEW]

“My father always saw it as a gift from God. The fact that I can see music.” For Lionel Worthing, sound holds a force and symbolic meaning of incredible power. He assigns specific colors to notes picked up in the smallest details of his surroundings, thus adorning his bleak and seemingly hopeless world. A simple boy from Kentucky, who under normal circumstances—following local traditions passed down through generations—would have spent the rest of his days running the family farm and sipping whiskey at nearby pubs in the evenings, has no intention of following the path set by the labor of his ancestors. His ability to interpret melodies and express them with a warm, heart-soothing gentleness will one day open the doors to an international career. But before his name becomes revered by young American musicians studying his compositions and famous academic papers, director Oliver Hermanus—whose film The History of Sound is competing for the Palme d’Or at Cannes this year—takes us on a sentimental journey filled with folk classics in search of a place where Lionel can, free from social stigma, fight for his second greatest love. And as one might guess, even from a fragmentary plot summary of this latest film starring Paul Mescal and Josh O’Connor, the path to a happy ending will not be easy.

Nostalgia and sentimentality, expressed through meticulous attention to detail, and thus transporting the viewer into the symbolic realm of the main characters’ love story, are present in nearly every gorgeously stylized frame of The History of Sound. Even before we dive into the emotional sphere of two musicians discovering their life’s desires—Lionel (Paul Mescal), a gifted singer, and David (Josh O’Connor), a captivating composer—it’s the atmosphere soaked in pastel shades of brown, the era-accurate costumes, and phenomenal set design that seamlessly draw us into two worlds of 20th-century America.

The first is provincial Kentucky, which Lionel desperately longs to escape, much to his family’s dismay. The second is the New England Conservatory in opportunity-rich Boston, which not only offers him a path to fulfilling his musical aspirations but also a chance for emotional fulfillment he likely never could’ve had in his prejudiced hometown. So when he hears a song in the college pub that once warmed his parents’ long autumn evenings, he immediately seeks out the source of those memory-laden sounds. That’s how he meets the charming David, with whom he instantly forms a soulful connection.

Without fireworks or fairytale-like embellishment, using minimal dialogue and the magic of glances and subtle gestures, the two artists fall for each other and finally begin to live life to the fullest. But it will be a while before we see their first kiss or intimate moment on screen. Hermanus deliberately avoids excessive nudity or overtly passionate scenes—the chemistry between Mescal and O’Connor lies in what’s left unsaid and fleeting.

The dark reality of World War I abruptly interrupts their poetic love story—David is drafted, and Lionel decides to return home. From that point on, The History of Sound resonates with the sound of loneliness more than anything else. Whether it’s Lionel longing for David’s return from Europe, or in 1920, when David reappears in Lionel’s life and proposes a journey to collect folk songs as a form of redemption for lost time, a single glance from the haunted musician expresses a vast trauma from years of isolation and emotional burnout, which ultimately shatters any hope for a fairytale ending.

The History of Sound is a decades-spanning exploration of the metaphysical essence of music and the folk sounds of 20th-century America. It’s also a timeless, visually stunning tale of a love born in the wrong place at the wrong time. For Oliver Hermanus, this is his first full-length film with a star-studded cast to premiere at Cannes. Based on a short story by Ben Shattuck—where folk tales meet touching melodrama—he creates a contemplative, impressionistic narrative about loss, longing, and the inner torment of lovers unfulfilled by life and thwarted by the harsh realities of postwar America.

In this folk-infused, mystically atmospheric (thanks to Alexander Dynan’s masterful cinematography) film, Hermanus’ fascination with queer cinema (comparisons to Brokeback Mountain are common) is evident, as is inspiration from recent auteur works like Aftersun by Charlotte Wells and Manchester by the Sea by Kenneth Lonergan. Josh O’Connor and Paul Mescal deliver powerful performances that are sure to make waves this awards season—just like the film’s entire visual aesthetic, which acts almost as an independent character, imbuing the story with mystique and emotional grandeur.

Hermanus’ new queer classic is arguably the most tenderly crafted, Oscar-ready work at this year’s Cannes Festival—and yet it doesn’t diminish its chances in the Main Competition. While at times one might wish to see more dramatic depth from The Crown star O’Connor or tear-jerking intensity from Paul Mescal, in The History of Sound, what remains unspoken and symbolic speaks louder than words—reflecting the restrictive era in which the protagonists lived, and one still resonant today. The emotional weight of this heartrending story can be unbearable at times—which only confirms how deeply The History of Sound embeds itself under your skin and will undoubtedly leave many in tears.