‘The History of Sound’ Review: Paul Mescal and Josh O’Connor Bring Aching Poignancy to Restrained but Heartfelt Queer Love Story

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Paul Mescal and Josh O’Connor deliver outstanding performances in “The History of Sound,” a poignant portrayal of a passionate yet tragically short-lived gay romance disrupted by World War I. Based on Ben Shattuck’s enchanting short story, the movie deepens its emotional impact through the shared journey of the two characters as they traverse the wilderness of Maine in 1919, gathering traditional folk tunes and ballads from locals. This musical quest serves as a powerful analogue to oral history.

In 2019, South African filmmaker Oliver Hermanus made a significant impact with the release of “Moffie,” a powerful critique of homophobia within the military during Apartheid. Contrasting this intense depiction of physical and emotional turmoil, Hermanus opted for a more subtle style in 2022 with “Living,” an adaptation of Akira Kurosawa’s 1952 film “Ikiru.” This poignant production was penned by Kazuo Ishiguro, and it stars Bill Nighy as a London civil servant who learns he has terminal cancer. In his final days, this character seeks to make the most of his remaining time.

In a similar manner, Hermanus’ latest film subtly delivers its impact without rushing, deriving strength from understatement instead. The lead actors’ emotions, such as passion and longing, are vividly portrayed through their eyes. The director seems to be working within the traditional style of filmmaking, partnering with cinematographer Alexander Dynan to capture the drama through a lens reminiscent of fine art painting. The shots have an aesthetically pleasing arrangement and spatial balance, often resembling images straight from an Andrew Wyeth masterpiece.

Many viewers may find the movie’s pace quite challenging, as suggested by some people leaving during its first press screening at Cannes. The comparisons with “Brokeback Mountain” are almost unavoidable, and Ang Lee’s 2005 romantic tragedy continues to stand alone in a league of its own.

However, delve into the soulful undercurrents of “The History of Sound,” and you’ll find its spiritual heights, where songs, more frequently about people than Divinity, reside. The depth of emotion in Mescal and O’Connor’s performances creates a film that leaves a lasting impression of melancholic beauty. The music’s strength alone elevates it to one of the most heartfelt and romantic LGBTQ films in recent times.

Mescal portrays Lionel, a farm boy from Kentucky who has an extraordinary ability – he can “hear” music in various forms. He can discern the specific pitch of his mother’s morning cough, a dog’s bark, a frog’s croak, and even describe the form, color, and taste of music. A school teacher is astounded by his vocal talents, which eventually help him secure a scholarship to the New England Conservatory in Boston.

One evening at a local watering hole with my buddies, I find myself drawn to a melody wafting from the piano – it’s a folk song that echoes my father’s voice. Spotting an opportunity, I approach the pianist, David, and inquire how someone in Boston could be so familiar with an obscure Kentucky tune. With a twinkle in his eye, he shares that his passion lies in wandering during summers, collecting rare songs just like this one.

David, hailing originally from Newport, found himself moving to London to reside with an uncle following the loss of his parents. Unlike Lionel, David exhibits a more refined demeanor; however, they quickly formed a bond. As Lionel mentioned various tunes reminiscent of his past, he eventually stumbled upon one unfamiliar to David. However, when Lionel sang “Silver Dagger,” a captivating traditional ballad where a mother cautions her daughter about the deceitfulness of men, David was instantly captivated.

Since their initial meeting, Shattuck’s screenplay makes it clear they both have an ardent love for folk tunes and narrative ballads. This style of music could serve as a fitting metaphor for the budding romance that unfolds between them.

Initially, David assumes control, guiding rather than asking Lionel to escort him home once they leave the bar. He then proposes a visit upstairs for a drink of water. O’Connor skillfully portrays David as quick-witted and uninhibited. Before any mutual attraction is admitted, he playfully splashes water which Lionel reflexively catches on his tongue.

One striking aspect of this movie sets it apart from many other queer period films: it avoids ambiguity and, primarily, embarrassment. Unlike others that focus on the repression of the era or the dread of being discovered, this film isn’t about hiding in the shadows of societal norms. Instead, it centers around an immediate and lasting bond, a connection that is as much rooted in music as in sexual attraction or romantic love.

When David is called up for military service during World War I in 1917, Lionel, who was exempt due to his poor eyesight, feels deeply saddened and advises him: “Write letters. Send chocolates. Stay alive.” Due to the war, Lionel’s classes at the conservatory are suspended, causing him to go back to Kentucky. His mother (played by Molly Price), a tough-minded woman, swiftly notices his discontentment. In a witty jab, she remarks that he shouldn’t have gone to Boston in the first place, otherwise, returning wouldn’t be such a bother for him.

David doesn’t get in touch with Lionel for two whole years, until a letter arrives. In that time, David has landed a job in the music department of a regional college in Maine, where he’s been asked by senior faculty to embark on a winter journey off the usual paths across the state, recording the songs of everyday people. He writes to Lionel suggesting they take a long walk in the winter. Though it might seem more like an invitation than a question, for Lionel, it feels like a golden ticket.

Those months are spent wandering from location to location on foot, and they’re experienced with a gentle sense of wonder. Lionel learns how to work the phonograph, capturing melodies onto wax cylinders, while Paul jots down lyrics and any background information about the songs. These experiences lead to some charming interactions. A woman looks at the device suspiciously, as if it’s medical equipment, asking “Will I feel something?” before belting out a stunning traditional tune, with her little girls providing the most enchanting harmonies.

Lionel remarks, ‘My grandfather once stated that happiness isn’t a tale to tell, leaving little to discuss during those initial weeks.’ The obstacles that could potentially complicate any same-sex relationship in the early 1900s almost disappear beneath the cloak of wilderness, and even the challenging weather conditions of Maine winter seem insignificant when the two men are intertwined within their tent, asleep.

In Shattuck’s story, there’s an important addition: a stop at Malaga Island, where the state governor is arranging to displace a mixed-race community consisting of former slaves and impoverished immigrants, who were once enslaved. A character named Thankful Mary Swain (played by Briana Middleton) uses her powerful singing voice for “Here in the Vineyard,” a spiritually uplifting song that stirs Lionel to join in the chorus.

As they return to the mainland, anticipating the turmoil that will displace the islanders, the lovers experience their initial argument. Lionel suggests they shouldn’t have left, while David argues that there was no way they could have prevented what was to come.

Their disagreement changes something in their relationship. David inquires, “Have you ever fretted over this? What we’re engaged in?” To which Lionel responds casually, “No, I don’t worry.” The character O’Connor shines in these moments as David initiates the separation process by proposing that Lionel teach in Boston or travel to Europe to earn a living as a singer. He swiftly dismisses the idea of Lionel joining him at the Maine college, stating it’s too small-town for his interest.

The circumstance of Lionel accompanying him, driven solely by love, indicates a role reversal in their dynamic. Once, David was worldly and carefree, but now he’s the one exhibiting caution, while Lionel has become decisive and unwavering. Their farewell at Augusta station is heart-wrenching; it’s only when David is by himself that he openly displays his grief.

As the story progresses in the latter part of the film, it occasionally wanders, expanding beyond Shattuck’s tale — Lionel becomes a member of an illustrious choir in Rome and briefly engages in a lackluster romance with a young Venetian (Alessandro Bedetti), only to leave him for an opportunity at Oxford. There, Clarissa, a well-off bohemian (Emma Canning), mistakenly believes their relationship will culminate in marriage.

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The film remains captivating due to Lionel’s heartfelt memories of times with David, snippets of dialogue echoing within him. In a performance arguably his finest since Aftersun, Mescal’s eyes convey the weight of sorrow and the growing understanding that he won’t experience joy like he did during those weeks in Maine again.

The conclusion drags on slightly, yet it’s rewarding to witness Chris Cooper’s portrayal of Lionel, an esteemed ethno-musicologist in 1980. In this phase of his life, he was respected for his work. A television interview discussing his recently published history of folk music piques curiosity, leading someone to send him a forgotten artifact from their attic. The subsequent scene, where Lionel is moved to tears as he plays the piano, evokes an intense emotional response that borders on overwhelming.

Once more, Hermanus demonstrates exceptional skill in his craft, subtly incorporating sepia tones to invoke the era, yet never allowing the settings to overshadow the characters. His direction of actors is commendable, even for those appearing briefly like Lionel’s parents or the simple countryside folk who contribute their melodies.

The music interludes, crafted primarily using strings by Oliver Coates, are consistently moving. Notably, they range from melodious yet enthusiastic renditions by O’Connor to emotionally charged performances by Mescal.

Various emotions are encapsulated within them, from heartfelt sorrow and deep love to darker themes like murder tales or the whimsically macabre such as “The Unquiet Grave,” a tune where a deceased woman laments her lover’s persistent visits at her grave, disrupting her peace. The resonance of that melody in the ballad of David and Lionel is both poignantly beautiful and heart-wrenchingly devastating.

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2025-05-22 00:26