Most of “The History of Sound,” directed by Oliver Hermanus, takes place in World War I-era New England. It’s there, the crisp air heavy with words unsaid, that Lionel (Paul Mescal) and David (Josh O’Connor) embark on a song-collecting mission, backpacking along the coast of Maine to capture folk ballads. The idea is to record the melodies for posterity, cataloging moods and refrains that might otherwise be lost to time.
This act of preservation is precisely what the men — a singer and a musicologist who meet over beers and demure smiles in a smoky Boston bar — feel unable to do for their romance, which begins at a conservatory and blossoms during the trip. The movie’s remaining scenes follow Lionel alone, taciturn on his family farm in Kentucky, then limp with longing as a choral performer in Europe.
“The History of Sound,” rendered by the first-time screenwriter Ben Shattuck from a pair of his short stories, is a refined, restrained period piece. Its atmosphere builds charge in small moments of affection, like David gathering up the loose feathers from Lionel’s pillow and packing them back into its seam. What could distinguish the movie from similar stories of love interrupted is its soundscape, which overflows with vocalizing. The ditties are beautiful when isolated, but oftentimes Hermanus dissolves them into the relentlessly dignified score, diluting their power.
Another way to say this is “The History of Sound” doesn’t trust its own gentleness, and the inertia of the filmmaking gives the whole affair a detached, try-hard feeling. It’s clear that the men’s dalliance is bound for the executioner — if only the march there was less of a slog.
The History of Sound
Rated R for sexuality, in a modest key. Running time: 2 hours 7 minutes. In theaters.
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