Review: Even in Darkness, "Sound of Metal" Finds Compassion for a Brighter Future

Scene from Sound of Metal

When one lives their life as a musician, nothing feels as crucial as having an ear for melody. Without it, how does one hope to take on the rigorous challenge of playing for crowds every night, touring across the country, and having the world sing along? For Sound of Metal, it exists in a moment that may be a career drummer's worst nightmare: hearing loss. Even from the beginning as Reuben (Riz Ahmed) drums away in a darkened room, he tries hard to hear the lead singer. The audience can't hear her clearly either, though one has to ask if it's because of a bad sound system, or if the audience is experiencing the final moments, where Reuben can still hear the world around him. Once it disappears, the room's darkness will become more insufferable, reflective of his own internal life.

He can see the world, but this begins the challenges of trying to communicate. Through notebook papers, he finds the early days difficult. He'll do anything to overcome this problem, and yet there's the reality. It's hopeless. He's a drummer without an ear. All he will do is wear out his new options, and that's the pain. Sound of Metal is a story of self-acceptance when given a disability, reflecting a difficulty that many live with while being treated as an "other." It's one of the year's most harrowing journeys, but it ultimately ends with such a powerful conclusion that it's worth it. The struggle to recognize life after this condition is an important story. Through art, this story hopes to make the world not necessarily sympathize with the deaf, but to empathize and understand the most important part of them: they're still human and capable of love.

For a movie that starts with loud, aggressive drumming, the most important part of the story doesn't come through a mosh pit or some music theory discussion. The one that seeks to revolutionize the way audiences see the deaf is in a rudimentary form of sign language. When Reuben is tasked with entering a rehab center for the deaf, he meets the counselor who tells him something important. The counselor points to his head and says "we're here to cure this" before pointing to his ears "not this." In this simple act, it lays out everything that makes the story compassionate. Even if the world will continue to feel alien, like one isn't able to interact like they had for decades of their life, it's only a state of mind. Its when one begins to change their outlook that everything begins to heal.

Compare that to the early minutes of the story, where Reuben's immediate reaction is to give in to desperation. He insists that he could play as a click track during shows, not realizing that at some point the facade will wear thin. He contemplates implant surgery, or in his darkest moment a gun in his mouth. For him, his lack of auditory skills is the end of the world, and director Darius Marder manages to lay into the sadness without making it totally overbearing. His reaction is natural, finding insecurity overwhelming his sense. He can't even hear a soothing melody anymore. He has nothing to comfort him. The sound of literal metal music will never be the same to him, and one can imagine a story where this ends with a bloody corpse.

But that would be the lazy out for this story. Instead, Marder shows the growth of Reuben through those around him. Ahmed's incredible performance embodies the quiet fear that comes through every nervous twitch, his sudden realization that he is not the same. His sadness is real, and it gives purpose to the second half, where rehab begins to change his outlook. Starting with a lack of subtitles, the audience watches Reuben begin to learn how to communicate. As he does, the words appear on the screen, reflecting his perspective clearly. It's another learning curve and one that is perfectly executed. The emotional power of these moments comes in how they parallel the early chapters. Whereas Ahmed's performance was so full of dread, this stretch is its most optimistic, proving that one is capable of adapting and growing as a person.

The story itself is an incredible achievement, managing to show deaf characters (also featuring actors with hearing impairment) in a positive light, giving insight to their struggles. The sound mixing is an equally important milestone, managing to convey for the audience how Reuben hears the world. From the beginning, the slowness of the muddled sound, overwhelms the track, and it instinctually turns the audience into Reuben's closest friend. By the time he gets to rehab, there is this desperation to have something normal again, and it forces one to focus on the reality. One can either give up, or try really hard to feel some semblance of normalcy. Even if this story is despairing at times, it still has hope that hearing loss isn't the end of the world.

Without giving much of the third act away, the sound evolves over the minutes to something more creative. As Reuben's view of the world changes, so does the sound. It's especially true towards the end, where things become a bittersweet fight between his normal life and the current one, finding sacrifices that may have been for naught. Ahmed's mix of emotions as he realizes what he's done gives so much power to the situation. While it's seen as disapproving by some, it ends up being a forgivable one. Who wouldn't want to return to a normal life? Even if Reuben has found satisfaction outside of his former auditory skills, the world remains the same, and that's terrifying.

Sound of Metal is a phenomenal movie and one that is deserving of every accolade it gets. For starters, it may be the most intricately designed movie about hearing loss made. It not only conveys a story that creates deeper empathy, but it does so in a manner that forces the viewer to feel everything that Reuben does. Sound is an element of life that can be taken for granted, though Marder does a great job of showing that it's not the end of the world. One can hope to grow and find happiness on the other side. It's one of the few times this year that a film has felt revolutionary, capable of having much more power than telling an entertaining story, and one can hope it does plenty to forward a conversation, changing this from taboo into something more grounded in understanding. One shouldn't have to feel alone because of this condition. If anything, this will help to fix that.