The History of Sound

From their first meeting to their final goodbye, the spark between the two characters in The History of Sound is undeniable, conveyed more through subtle expressions and body language than through verbal dialogue.

Complemented by evocative period visuals, this deliberately paced yet deeply heartfelt drama has an offbeat auditory cadence while delivering a bittersweet tale of memories, tragedy, repressed desires, and the connective power of music.

However, this intimate queer romance from South African director Oliver Hermanus (Living) is restrained and understated to the point of frustration, with conflicts remaining largely internalized and its poignancy rarely resonating as deeply as intended.

The nonlinear story is set during World War I and told from the perspective of Lionel (Paul Mescal), an introverted student and musical savant at the prestigious New England Conservatory.

His first interaction with the impulsive David (Josh O’Connor) is awkward as meet-cutes go, as they bond over a shared affinity for traditional folk music at a smoky Boston pub where David is the regular pianist.

Nevertheless, their attraction leads to a torrid affair, only to be cut short when David is drafted into combat. Lionel returns home to a troubled family life in rural Kentucky to be with his ailing mother (Molly Price).

They later reconnect in Maine, where David is a professor tasked with collecting rural folk spirituals on makeshift recording devices made of wax cylinders. Yet uncertain feelings and circumstances eventually separate them again, with Lionel heading to Europe to pursue a singing career, leading to a fling with a free-spirited London woman (Emma Canning).

Lionel is forced to reconcile his faith with his sexuality amid sociopolitical volatility while trying to chart a viable professional future. Still, even when they’re apart, David is top of mind.

The contemplative, character-driven screenplay by Ben Shattuck, adapted from his own short stories, moves with the melancholy rhythms of its pervasive ballads, some of which are quite lovely.

Meanwhile, The History of Sound encases the central relationship almost within a narrative bubble, cut off from the outside world both to its benefit and its detriment. For the most part, the supporting roles are thinly developed and functional.

Showcasing his versatility, Mescal (Gladiator II) gives Lionel a brooding, enigmatic persona that comes off as articulate yet aloof — kind of like the film as a whole.

Rated R, 127 minutes.