TL;DR
- Paul Mescal and Josh O’Connor star as lovers in the WWI-set The History of Sound.
- Directed by Oliver Hermanus, the film explores love born through music, not instant attraction.
- Their characters, Lionel and David, bond collecting folk songs in Maine after the war.
- The film avoids tragic queer tropes, showing a selfless, pure romance.
- Mescal and O’Connor’s real-life friendship adds to their on-screen chemistry.
Two Men, One Song, A Lifetime of Longing
What happens when two of Hollywood’s dreamiest men trade smoldering glances for aching ballads? You get The History of Sound — a sweeping WWI-set gay romance that has hearts ready to shatter like fine crystal. In the hands of director Oliver Hermanus, actors Paul Mescal and Josh O’Connor bring to life Lionel and David, two Boston Conservatory music students who stumble into love in 1917 not by looks, but by sound — literally. Lionel hears David singing and is instantly hooked, not by desire, but by something deeper.
Years later, after enduring the horrors of World War I, David lures Lionel into a bittersweet road trip across Maine, collecting folk songs before they disappear. It’s part love story, part elegy, and entirely gorgeous. Their connection is tender, intellectual, and as haunting as the old melodies they chase. There’s no clandestine hiding or moral punishment here — just two men carving out a bubble where their love can breathe, if only for a fleeting moment.
A Love Story That Refuses to Whisper
Hermanus, known for fearless queer stories like Moffie, wanted to strip away the usual cloak of secrecy around same-sex love of the era. “The greater political act of making a film like this is to not give the politics any oxygen,” he said. And it works. The film doesn’t scream “forbidden love” — it hums. Their relationship isn’t named or labeled, just lived, like a quiet act of rebellion.
This is more than a romance; it’s a meditation on memory and the echoes of love. Even decades later, Lionel can’t shake David’s ghost. “Life should be full of longing and remembrance,” Hermanus mused, and he’s not wrong — LGBTQ audiences know too well how love stories have been stolen, silenced, or cut short. Here, queer love isn’t a tragedy; it’s a melody that keeps playing, even if softly.
Mescal and O’Connor: From Buddies to Ballad Boys
Off-screen, Mescal and O’Connor’s real-life bromance fuels their chemistry. First meeting over a pandemic-era Zoom call, the pair slowly built a friendship over five years as the film faced delay after delay — financing woes, a pandemic, and dual strikes. “We didn’t have to crash-course friendship,” Mescal said. “We fell in love with each other making it.”
Their natural playfulness balances the story’s quiet ache. But make no mistake — when the trauma of war dims David’s once-bright spirit, the heartbreak hits like a final chord. “Behind that wide-eyed optimism is a sort of intrinsic sadness,” O’Connor admitted. And Lionel, looking back, sees it all too clearly.
Why This Matters for Queer Cinema
In an industry still peppered with tragic queer stories, The History of Sound dares to be tender. It’s not about shame, secrecy, or punishment. It’s about art, memory, and the radical act of joy. For LGBTQ audiences used to seeing their love wrapped in sorrow, this film offers something rare: a love story that doesn’t apologize, explain, or end in ruin — just two men who dared to love out loud, even if only for a verse or two.
Love might be fleeting, but in this film, its echoes are eternal.