The History of Music’s package more than its premise sells itself without much difficulty. Gay historical romance with Paul Mescal and Josh O’Connor? The two celebs whose heads fans most want to smash together like a tot making two Barbie dolls kiss? What more do you even need to know? That packaging seeks to draw in audiences who might otherwise be happy to let a celebration of America’s folk songs play to empty theaters.

It’s not a bait and switch. The romance in The History of Sound is rich and heart-wrenching. But the movie’s true love of the music itself is deftly woven throughout the runtime. It suggests that a love like Lionel and David’s is as eternal and American as the songs we’ve sung for a 100 years.

Lionel (Mescal), a Kentucky farm boy with a golden voice, gets a scholarship to head to an East Coast music conservatory in 1917 where he meets fellow musician David (O’Connor). The two form an instant connection of their shared love of folk songs. For Lionel, they’re the songs his father sang, songs of home. For David, it’s more of a deep scholarly love of discovery. The love of song quickly turns to love for each other, a love that’s interrupted by the draft of WWI. 

The pair reunite in 1918 to go for a “long walk in the woods” on a song-collecting mission. But the trajectory of their lives pries them apart once again. As we follow Lionel on his search for himself and what he wants in life, we wait to see if music, fate, or both will reunite them.

Screenwriter Ben Shattuck adapts his own short story of the same name, making some pretty liberal departures. In translating his work, Shattuck understood just how much it’d be about bringing the music itself to life. Together with director Oliver Hermanus, they populate the film with performances. Some blend into the action. Others get the space to command the screen like a diva commanding the stage.

“Silver Dagger”’s (made famous by Joan Baez and later Dolly Parton), heartbreaking verse “For I’ve been warned, and I’ve decided / To sleep alone all of my life” haunts the runtime. Others, like “Across the Rocky Mountain”, wriggle into your brain as if it’s the only song you’d want to hear. This is clearly where History of Sound has a leg up over the short story.

The adaptation also gives the romance between Lionel and David room to blossom and breathe. It transforms from an old man’s remembrance in the story to something we get to bear witness to. O’Connor and Mescal’s chemistry sparkles so convincingly, you can’t help but feel that if this were your first love, you’d remember it in this much detail, too.

When David’s drafted into WWI, pulling their budding romance to a halt, you can sense Lionel’s pleading under his winking request, “Write me. Or send chocolate. Don’t die.” Mescal was clearly born to play these kinds of tender, yearning men. The way it bounces off of O’Connor’s confidence (which at moments almost reads like a different shade of his character in Challengers) is a delight for viewers.

Where The History of Sound starts to falter is in the middle, after the duo completes their song-collecting mission. These chapters of Lionel’s life can’t quite balance the importance of his self-exploration with the story of his relationship with David. Instead of vignettes that complete the overall story, they feel more like interruptions to it, if not wholly unwelcome ones.

But once Shattuck and Hermanus bring you to History of Sound’s conclusion, it’s easy to forgive any stumbling. The final 15 minutes of the film so deftly encompass the love of man and song and music and a sliver of American life forgotten. It’s nothing short of sheer magic. The longer you sit with The History of Sound, the more it seems to take shape, like notes of a song burrowing into your brain long after it’s ended. Don’t deprive yourself of that rare joy. 

History of Sound resonates in theatres starting September 12.

History of Sound Trailer: