Sound of Metal - 2019
This review spoils a few plot points.
It is not often that we get a film which simultaneously functions both as a vehicle for an awards-caliber lead actor performance as well as a compassionate, humanistic portrait of the lesser known individuals who make up an entire community of people. It is even rarer that we get one as a directorial debut made on a modest budget. But that, in fact, is precisely what Darius Marder has accomplished with the wondrous Sound of Metal.
The predominant buzz and attention circling around this picture is in regard to its lead, Riz Ahmed. While this is absolutely rightfully so, I'm not so sure it should surprise us that Ahmed has such chameleon-like abilities, i.e. the knack for fully immersing himself in a particular character. A British citizen of Pakistani descent, Ahmed is no stranger to code switching. He attended Oxford and studied politics (and philosophy). He cut a rap single. He's acted in everything from thrillers like Nightcrawler to the Star Wars universe, and he's played characters of many different ethnicities/nationalities. We should not be shocked then that he could dye the hair blond, beef up some, get all tatted up, and throw himself headlong into personifying a heavy metal drummer who loses his hearing.
Even so, it is the humanity of Ahmed and indeed the whole project which really comes through in the performance. My wife, who is an incredibly astute observer of the medium though she very infrequently opts to watch, made two observations about the Sound of Metal. Both are spot on. The first is simply how naturalistic the acting is throughout the picture. The second (which we will return to shortly) is that the second hour drags in places. In regards to my points about Ahmed, the former is instructive. Ahmed's performance bears all the psychological astuteness of denial when a tragedy occurs. Rejection of the facts, attempting to bargain your way out or downplay reality. Anger, depression, and rage.
What also should be noted is how remarkable Olivia Cooke (as his girlfriend Lou) and Paul Raci are alongside him. Lou is the real reason that Ruben (Ahmed's character) got clean from heroin four years ago. She is his grounding and purpose. But she adores him so much that his pain is her own. She knows, however, that he must spend some time in a recovery facility for the deaf in order to go on functioning and progressing in his life. The scene of their early goodbye at the car which comes to pick her up is heart-rending, beautiful, yet shockingly hopeful. Again, it just comes off so natural and effortless - "like they are barely acting," the amateur critic said. Sometimes love means letting go.
On the other hand, Paul Raci's Joe is kind of the emotional anchor of the whole film. He opens Ruben up to a new world of acceptance, education, and love. This is another beautiful thing about Marder's work. He casts an entire cadre of deaf actors to play in this establishment. Raci himself, while not deaf, signs authentically due to growing up with deaf parents. (I believe Marder himself had experiences with deafness in his own family as well). The picture is just so poignantly grounded and compassionately told. Joe orders Ruben to sit alone in a room without distractions and write out his thoughts. It's a therapeutic assignment aimed at moving beyond denial towards peace and acceptance. This exercise would do more than a few of us well in the age of a pandemic.
One of the other astonishing aspects of the film is its innovative, entirely efficacious sound design. This isn't just some glitzy new tech advancement. It serves a monumental purpose. Simply put, we hear the world as Ruben does. At first, it is muffled like listening to someone with headphones on or having cotton balls against our eardrums. Soon there is total silence, except for a barely discernible ringing sound. When Ruben first gets to the community everyone is signing and conversing excitedly at the table, but Marder provides us with no subtitles. Instead, he alters perspective from no sound with signing to audibly hearing the people interacting. Yet we, like Ruben, comprehend none of it. It is like "hearing" a foreign language for the first time.
Soon our protagonist begins to find his way. He learns rudimentary sign language which grows everyday. He laughs and converses with others. He makes friends, and in one poignant scene, he shares a beat on a playground slide with a youth. Then, he is leading drum sessions for the classmates with whom he takes language sessions. He seems to be finding his place in this new reality.
Still, as the film turns the corner into the second hour, conflict once more rears its head. The world of sound calls back to Ruben. He must make some agonizing choices. Should he sell his RV and music equipment in order to get enough cash together to undergo a risky but progressive surgery? Two more conversations with the remarkable Raci (who is equally deserving of awards’ nods) are informative. In the first, Joe relates a tale about the kingdom of God being like stillness, or the peace of silent tranquility. The latter comes after Ruben has undergone the procedure and returns to the center. With as much grace as possible, and palpable pain tearing at the edges of his countenance, Joe must relate to Ruben that deafness is not a disability. It's a new way of communication. Taken together, these scenes have the kind of raw power to bowl over the viewer with pathos and heart.
So, yes I must say in closing that the film meanders in the final hour. I believe it could have been about 20 minutes shorter, truncating the portion where Ruben is searching for what to do next after leaving the community. Perhaps it's some timing and pacing missteps on the part of a first-time director.
Yet, one thing Marder surely knows is how to stick the landing. This comes after some more truly spectacular sound design, this time depicting the kind of crackling and tinny half-hearing that is so common after this type of surgery. The film closes with a reunion with the woman who saved his life and set him straight. A conversation where little is said but worlds are felt. We are right there alongside them, the characters engendering empathy at every turn. With a final decision and a forward-looking glance that harkens back to the sage advice of Joe, the Sound of Metal cements itself as certified gold.
Comments