The History of Sound

may have been one of the most H๏τly anticipated Cannes premieres and I’m sure many hoped it would be one of the H๏τtest movies, what with two of the internet’s preeminent boyfriends starring as lovers. It’s not as steamy as one would hope — and those familiar with the work of director Oliver Hermanus probably saw that coming. Instead, it’s a poignant meditation on the power of music, as corny as that might sound.

But The History of Sound is not corny. It’s thoughtful and quietly devastating. In its insistence to buck conventions of the queer drama, though, it inevitably falls into some of the very traps it hopes to avoid, landing somewhere between expectations and the underwhelming pic it flirts with becoming.

The History Of Sound Is Strongest When Conveying The Impact Of A Relationship

The History of Sound is based on the short story of the same name by Ben Shattuck, who also adapted his story for the screen. In stretching this story out over two hours, The History of Sound threatens to break under the weight of its ambitions. It follows Lionel Worthington (Paul Mescal), a young boy from Kentucky who, on the cusp of World War I, leaves his family farm to study music in Boston. There, he meets David (Josh O’Connor), a fellow student more interested in the preservation and impact of music than performance. Upon meeting, the pair fall into a situationship, to put it in modern terms.

We are meant to ᴀssume their relationship is intense, but brief. Hermanus doesn’t linger too long on the particulars of their falling into bed, instead skipping around in time. It’s a shame, as Mescal and O’Connor have good chemistry, and investing in the relationship early could’ve helped the film achieve the emotional heights it reaches for later on.

Though they must part when David is drafted for the war, they reunite for a trip across rural New England, where Lionel accompanies his lover as they record folk songs of the region.

The History of Sound has a deep understanding of the ways in which a brief relationship like the one between Lionel and David can have a lasting effect. It’s easy to discount what such a short time can really mean to someone, but sometimes it doesn’t matter if it’s hours, days, months, or years. The right person can change a life and leave a mark.

Mescal communicates this beautifully, carrying a quiet sadness through the dim after Lionel and David part ways for good. It affects every facet of his life, from the jobs he takes (Lionel goes to Europe to sing only after David suggests he do so) and the relationships he gets involved in (Lionel is flighty as can be, as if by refusing to commit to anyone else, it might make him more attractive to David if and when they reunite).

Like the haunting songs that soundtrack the film, David is the ghost hovering over this film. O’Connor does brief but effective work here, his smile lingering over the events like it lingers in Lionel’s mind. Because of this, The History of Sound is a much more muted affair, steeped in sadness rather than the ecstasy of love. That doesn’t sap the film of all of its power — the ending still hits like a gut punch, especially as Hermanus brings back a key song that we haven’t heard since the beginning of the film — but the director’s commitment towards a more understated tone makes this drama more stately than Sєxy.

The History of Sound premiered at the 2025 Cannes Film Festival.