The power of music in charting the journey we take through life sits at the heart of Oliver Hermanus’s beautiful and melancholic The History of Sound.
Our lives, loves, and regrets often carry their own soundtrack. For many of us, music is an integral part of our journey, from our earliest childhood memories through to our confusing yet electric teenage years and our walk toward older age, where the nostalgia and memories attached to a tune, song, or symphony chart the experiences, joys and regrets we have amassed. The power of music in charting the journey we take through life sits at the heart of Oliver Hermanus’s beautiful and melancholic The History of Sound.
Adapted by Ben Shattuck from his short story, the film centres on Lionel (Paul Mescal), a young man from a tough rural farm life in Kentucky, whose musical talent leads him to a conservatoire in Boston in 1917. There, in a local bar, he meets songwriting student David (Josh O’Connor), and they quickly bond over their love of traditional folk songs. David collects folk songs like a stamp collector builds a portfolio, while Lionel relishes the lyrics and colours of the tunes he grew up hearing people sing in Kentucky. Together, those old songs come to life through David’s piano and Lionel’s voice, with sound and music instantly bonding them. But that’s not the only bond the pair will develop.
An affair quickly blooms between our musical duo, with Lionel staying over at David’s small and sparse apartment at weekends. An unspoken love blooms for Lional, but David is much harder to read. When war divides them, with David conscripted and Lionel spared from the front line because of his eyesight, their brief romance comes to an end.
Lionel finds himself moving back to the family farm, his life suspended as he waits to hear whether David is dead or alive. As the seasons turn and Lionel hears nothing from David, it seems as if life itself has come to a standstill, until a letter arrives inviting him to travel around rural America, collecting songs and recording them on wax cylinders with David. As the two travel from town to town and village to village, their bond grows. Yet David remains distant, his wartime experiences haunting his present. As they part once again, Lionel begins a new life in Europe, where the conservatism of choral music replaces the raw honesty of folk music as he attempts to fit the accepted masculine mould.
The History of Sound isn’t about guilt and shame, but about the repression of the early-20th-century male experience. David and Lionel’s love is sweet, honest and beautiful, with folk songs replacing the need for words between them. Oliver Hermanus’s delicate, melodic and gentle picture is about time and place and the restrictions that all too often stop love in its tracks, whether personal or social. Lionel never regrets his love for David and seeks that love wherever he travels. But for David, that love is far more complicated, something we discover later in the film. There are minor problems with Hermanus’s picture and its narrative arc and pacing, with the resounding sense that some missing material lies somewhere on the cutting-room floor. Yet despite this, its visual and aural beauty cements its place as one of the most creatively bold films of the year.
As David and Lionel’s paths diverge, it’s Lionel we follow as his life in Europe offers him escape and an opportunity to create a new version of himself. Yet, for all his affairs, loves, and triumphs, it’s David he longs for. The music David and Lionel shared was timeless, but their romance was not. Hermanus explores this through the songs that accompany their bond and the memories they evoke over time.
It is within The History of Sound’s exploration of music, time and memory that the film is at its most beautiful, with O’Connor and Mescal on fine form throughout. When music replaces the need for speech, there’s honesty and electricity between David and Lionel: a demonstration of music’s power to convey emotions we find difficult to express.
Hermanus’s film often feels overly restrained, which may prove problematic for some. However, this reflects the male experience of the time, when social rules and expectations dictated behaviour far more than they do today. Throughout this journey, it is music that forms the picture’s emotional heartbeat, often superseding dialogue. It is a bold, creative choice that will likely divide audiences and leave many feeling cold toward this story of time, music and memory as they leave their local cinema. But for this critic, this bold creative choice is beautifully realised through Hermanus’s direction, Oliver Coates score, Alexander Dynan’s cinematography, and O’Connor and Mescal’s restrained performances.
Music is David and Lionel’s love language, and the words and melodies are their passionate, if fleeting, embrace. They both know their love can never be eternal from the moment they meet, each for differing reasons. Yet the music surrounding their brief love is timeless.
The History of Sound is showing in cinemas nationwide from January 23.
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