When thinking about the entertainment habits and general quality of life for adults today, it feels like people are craving human connection more than ever. In June this year, Good Morning America interviewed licensed psychotherapist Candace Washington. She explained the Centers for Disease Control and Prevention (CDC) reports one in four adults have a lack of social and emotional support in our country. And one in three adults have feelings of persistent loneliness.
These statistics point to a loneliness epidemic, which is probably why the new film, The History of Sound touched me so deeply. After a chance meeting in a Boston pub in 1917, two young men form a bond over their adoration of music that soon leads to a secret physical passion. Through their academic connections, the two men set out to record the songs and lives of rural Americans across the forests and farms of New England.
The History of Sound is adapted from a short story of the same name by Ben Shattuck first published in a literary magazine in 2018 and more recently published in a book of short stories in 2024. This 2024 book is also titled The History of Sound and features 12 interconnected short stories on love, longing, and the passage of time.
This theme of the passage of time makes the narrative gradual and meditative, allowing viewers to really absorb the feelings of the main character played by Paul Mescal (Gladiator II, 2024). His performance has an impressionable bruised quality like the sensitive strings of a violin yearning to played. Nobody can claim this film moves quickly or with an aggressive energy. It’s thoughtful, quiet, and subdued (much like the budding feelings of its two fledgling lovers).
Cinematographer Alexander Dynan (Goodnight Mommy, 2022) gives many striking visual moments in this, specifically when showing the settings of Kentucky and Maine. Naked tree branches, tilled dirt, and naturally muted colors help create an honest, world-weary affection. As the two men record folk songs in strangers’ homes and explore the landscapes of rural America, they also explore their feelings for each other and their hopes for their future. But after their collecting trip ends, they go their separate ways, and we follow only one of them travel the world with stunted relationships in his path.
The History of Sound is a gorgeous slice of Americana in an era with no internet, computers, or television, making the use of music more than just a source of entertainment. It’s part of remembering and chronicling people’s lives in places seldom seen by Americans and movie watchers.
Of course it’s difficult to watch this film and not compare it to the 2005 drama Brokeback Mountain. Both are wistful, male-centered, literary adaptations about forbidden queer romance set in the past. They’re also both deeply connected to the surrounding wild landscapes of mountains, rivers, and woods. But The History of Sound is different enough and singular enough that it’s one of the best films I have seen so far this year. Including the work of music historians (what people today would call musicologists), instead of cowboys or ranch hands, creates less of a juxtaposition between queer love and traditional masculinity like in Brokeback Mountain. Using music and family relations to illustrate one man's emotional journey makes The History of Sound a memorable portrait of human life (not a portrait about avoiding taboos or hiding from persecution).
The two main actors Paul Mescal and Josh O’Connor (Challengers, 2024) give such beautiful emotional authenticity in their roles. Many conversations between them are delicate and ephemeral, because so many moments of unspoken desire float between them. South African director Oliver Hermanus (Living, 2022) proves he has a steady hand in adapting a moving, poetic story of ordinary people’s lives. This film will haunt you like a distant memory.
And let me also say I don’t enjoy this film just because it’s a gay love story. It’s also about the importance of history itself (both large and small), because learning about the past helps us better understand our present. Learning more of our past can illuminate our place in the universe, and just maybe it can ease our loneliness.
