‘The History of Sound’ Review: Paul Mescal and Josh O’Connor Star in a Gay Period Romance That’s Like ‘Brokeback Mountain’ on Sedatives

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In ‘The History of Sound,’ a subtle and unspoken love story unfolds, set against the backdrop of early 2000s New England. The two main characters are music students, not exactly the type to declare their feelings openly with a shout of ‘We’re here! We’re queer! Get ready for our award-winning performances.’ However, to make this kind of film effective, each scene must resonate with an underlying emotional intensity that transcends mere hints or insinuations. It can’t simply drift into a bland realm of vague ‘implication.’

In the film “Brokeback Mountain,” the two main characters often suppressed their true selves, resulting in a profound tragedy that has made the movie one of the greatest ever produced. Heath Ledger’s understated performance, delivered with a hushed drawl, was both restrained and powerfully moving; his quiet demeanor tugged at your heartstrings. In contrast, “The History of Sound,” which could be described as a minimalist take on Masterpiece Theatre in the Wild West, is a drama that mostly lacks energy. Although it’s not poorly made, it feels lethargic and emotionally empty. Essentially, “The History of Sound” is like “Brokeback Mountain” but with a sedative effect.

As a music enthusiast, I find myself transported back to 1917, where my path crosses with David’s in the bustling city of Boston. I, a farm boy from Kentucky, and he, a wealthy orphan from Newport, Rhode Island, both students at the New England Conservatory of Music. One fateful night, I find myself captivated by the melodious strains of an American folk song emanating from a piano bar. The music, reminiscent of the tunes my fiddle-playing father taught me, stirs something deep within me. David, seated at the piano with his eager, wolfish grin and taunting attitude, is like a more joyful Hoagy Carmichael. Glasses perched on his nose, he’s more reserved, yet our shared passion for music is palpable. As our eyes meet, locked in harmony under the soft glow of the bar, I sense a connection that transcends music, perhaps even friendship or something more.

As I walk home under the soft glow of the early morning, I turn to my companion, Lionel, and propose a visit to my humble abode for a refreshing drink. He agrees, and within no time, we find ourselves ensnared in the comforts of my bed, without a moment’s pause or second thought. The next day dawns, and I wake up to an empty bed, but with a heartwarming note from David on my pillow that reads “Next Saturday?” In those two words, and the tranquil smile gracing Lionel’s face, I sense the tender promise of a budding romance unfolding.

In “The History of Sound,” the society depicted is one where openness about such matters could prove lethal, a fact subtly understood by both characters and audience. The film doesn’t explicitly state this, instead relying on its supposed subtlety to maintain credibility. Furthermore, the period setting and Lionel’s Southern upbringth contribute to limited dialogue. This era, as suggested by the movie, was one where people were less self-conscious and verbally expressive than they are today. Born in the late 19th century, Lionel and David develop a bond without much verbal exchange. Their love scenes, though passionate, are not overly explicit, portraying tender moments of intertwined bodies. Neither character appears to exhibit any guilt about their mutual attraction.

The romance between them is disrupted by World War I. David joins the battlefront, leaving Lionel behind at the farm. However, this time on the farm proves to be difficult for Lionel, especially following his father’s demise. He seems stuck in a rut, but then, in 1919, he receives a letter from David: “Meet me Jan. 1 at Augusta Train Station.” After the war, David invites Lionel on an extended camping trip to document folk musicians in the wilderness of Maine. As they embark on this adventure, they find themselves in a place of artistic, sensual, and spiritual unity that feels almost heavenly.

David, with his ability to record sounds onto wax cylinders, is somewhat like an early Alan Lomax, a budding ethnomusicologist who seeks to “collect” songs, capturing the raw essence of folk music and preserving it through his recordings for all eternity.

Film director Oliver Hermanus, hailing from South Africa and known for “The History of Sound”, is currently working off a script by Ben Shattuck (author of the short story the movie is adapted from). Hermanus strives to create a grand, picturesque aesthetic that complements Shattuck’s sparse dialogue. The film boasts a striking palette, dominated by earthy tones and somber clothing, with minimal vibrant colors to distract from its contemplative melancholy. However, the visual narrative is more practical than poetic. In essence, the film’s style could be likened to Kelly Reichardt’s, but with a slightly less meticulous approach.

In this critique, it’s pointed out that Hermanus heavily relies on his actors’ aura, but he falls short when it comes to Paul Mescal’s character, Connell, who portrays a reserved and formal version of a young man from rural Ireland. Josh O’Connor, playing the complex character David, shines in every scene, exuding a captivating energy that embodies his character perfectly. However, Mescal’s performance lacks authenticity, as he doesn’t convincingly portray a local from Kentucky, instead maintaining a too formal and serious demeanor. His acting style is more subdued and less expressive, which contributes to the film’s critical turning point that seems out of place within the storyline.

During their rural recording project, Lionel and David have formed not just a business partnership but also a bond of affection and harmony. At one instance, they argue for approximately 30 seconds (over a disagreement about leaving a certain situation), but soon enough, they’re smiling at each other as if they were childhood friends again. When David inquires whether Lionel would think about seeking a teaching role at the New England Conservatory, it’s almost like a romantic proposal. In essence, he’s suggesting this so that they can continue to be together.

In “Brokeback Mountain,” when Jack, portrayed by Jake Gyllenhaal, proposes they share a ranch in rural Wyoming with Ennis, his proposal is rejected. Ennis argues that such a living arrangement would expose them as gay and potentially endanger them due to societal intolerance, likening the oppressive environment to flames from a burning tire pile. In contrast, “The History of Sound” characters Lionel and David maintain their relationship in secret without visible distress, yet a permanent union might pose greater difficulties or even be impossible. When Lionel declines a teaching position, it leaves us puzzled because the film’s love story encounters its main obstacle: a script that requires some adjustments to convincingly portray the challenges of their relationship.

Midway through the film, numerous twists and turns are yet to unfold. The year is 1921, and Lionel has found himself in Italy, where his letters to David have gone unanswered month after month. As the story progresses, Lionel will become entangled romantically and physically with Clarissa (Emma Canning), but he will always carry an inner pain within him. This longing will pull him back, gradually and inevitably, towards the New England Conservatory, towards the love he cannot express. On paper, this narrative seems deeply moving and haunting. The scenes featuring Chris Cooper as the aging Lionel are equally powerful. However, “The History of Sound” is a movie that struggles to transcend its written form. It aims to tug at our heartstrings, but coming two decades after “Brokeback Mountain”, this film – which bears a striking resemblance to that tragedy and lacks the emotional depth – may struggle to make an impact in cinemas without leaving much of an audible echo.

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2025-05-21 20:47