'The History of Sound' (dir. Oliver Hermanus, 2025) Film Review

The History of Sound, dir. Oliver Hermanus (128mins) | Releases 23rd January 2026

CREDIT: Film4, Universal, British Film Institute

There is a decorative phrase people oft use to describe what it's like to endure a slow process. It's like watching paint dry! And it's a good descriptor, I suppose, if the process at hand is one that's dull or emotionless. The History of Sound is a slow film. It's a film that feels its length. Indeed, when the credits roll, and the title card flashes up with a "based on Ben Shattuck's short story" I let out a little snort. But I wouldn't compare it to watching paint dry.

The History of Sound feels more like watching the percolation of pour-over coffee on a rainy morning. Yes, there is an element of tedium, but it's a ritual that forces you to pause a little, to notice the shallow thuds against the windowpane and the sound of traffic humming past. To smell the mud amidst the petrichor, and fight the heaviness of your eyes as you crane to notice progression.

The History of Sound doesn't have the sort of slow and sensual tactility that made - say - Call Me By Your Name feel at once sedate and sweeping, but it offers a similarly gentle reprieve that totally transports you to 20th century New England, and into the world of our Paul Mescal-played protagonist: Lionel. The film follows Lionel from young boy to old man, orbiting entirely around his relationship with fellow music scholar David (Josh O'Connor) with whom he travels the rural South one summer in an effort to document traditional folk songs. The profundity of these men's intimate relationship casts a kaleidoscopic spectre over both of their lives thereafter, and we join Lionel as he struggles to reconcile this love with more traditional, prior-held hopes.

As a protagonist, I found Lionel a bit frustrating. He doesn't often let us into his inner dialogue, and appears often closed off and hard to read. In spite of his reputation as an emotionally forward actor, Paul Mescal finds success in this steely role and nails his singing scenes with impressive perfection. Mescal really is splendid in this film, which asks him not just to depict this character across multiple points in his life but also to hold a decent tune.

At first, the amount of song that's sewn through this film felt a little relentless and jarring. This is, for all intents and purposes, a (naturalistic) musical which I could see finding some success on the stage. But surrender to the banjo (and surrender you must, because it isn't going to stop) and you'll be swept up in song, and find an appreciation for orchestration shared by the characters on screen. I'm frustrated, in fact, that the soundtrack hasn't yet been released, because Mescal's rendition of 'Silver Dagger' is honestly very beautiful.

Sharing Lionel's passion for melody is his peer-turned-lover David, played by the brilliant Josh O'Connor. I last saw O'Connor in Wake Up Dead Man, the newest Knives Out entry which allowed him to spread his slapstick wings. This film has different demands of the talented star. David hides within him deep sadness and grief, and his experience fighting for the States in the First World War (a burden Lionel manages to avoid) leaves him rattled and fatalistic. And yet, while lugging along this shell-shocked albatross, David emanates a charm and sweetness that's impossible to overlook. O'Connor is asked to bring so many aspects of David to light, and he triumphs in the role.

This pair and their quiet chemistry drive most of the film, and render the characters lovable in spite of their sometimes selfish choices or questionable moves. And though The History of Sound has a surprisingly broad scope (with sequences taking place across Italy, England's Lake District, Maine, Kentucky and more), we as an audience are anchored by this relationship just as Lionel feels anchored to it too. But yes, this is a very slow film, and one which many will find uninteresting due to the occasional inaccessibility of its characters and the relentless diegetic song.

But just as the over-pour culminates after a while with morning coffee, the final moments of this film pack The History of Sound's biggest punch. It was actually only in these final moments that I realised quite how emotionally vulnerable I'd become to the script's grand finale, which I found devastatingly affecting. This is a really, really beautiful film. In every way. And its ending broke my heart.

If I had a dime for every time a Paul Mescal vehicle at the 2025 London Film Festival left me weeping by the time the credits rolled, I'd have two dimes (and no idea where to spend them). And while Hamnet is, in my opinion, a much stronger film than The History of Sound, I found this tale to be so understatedly charming, and so tender in its salute to love and to music, that it has instantly become one of my favourite films in this year's selection.

★★★★

Written by James Green