SOUND OF METAL: Shallowing a Great Premise
Amazon StudiosThe film opens with drummer Ruben (Riz Ahmed) performing at his metal band’s concert opposite his girlfriend Lou (Olivia Cooke), the band’s vocalist. Ruben wakes up early the next day and completes his morning routine. The viewer hears the blender, the coffee machine, and Ruben’s hand cleaning the DJ set. Some days later, Ruben wakes up again. He follows his routine to a T; however, this time, the noises are distorted. Moments after that, close-to-complete silence engulfs his ears. A musician becomes deaf.
In an evocative two-sided POV, Sound of Metal contrasts the viewer’s hearing with Ruben’s. During a long shot of Ruben walking down the street, one hears the usual – the revving cars, the pedestrians’ steps, the wind. The camera then shifts to a medium close-up of Ruben’s body to reveal the unusual – the scraping version of all the aforementioned sounds. These straightforward but poignant contrasts lay the grounds for a beautiful film stuffed with so much emotional intensity that the viewer ends up a mucus-covered, tear-embellished being. And the mucus and the tears are enjoyable because the film underscores a purpose: the fact that having a medical handicap doesn’t mean having a life-appreciating handicap. Sound of Metal attempts that, but instead of an amalgamation of mucus and tears, the viewer has to brush away the disappointment.
Due to the overused canonical first-act techniques, the characters’ narrative roles are mundane. When the doctor tells Ruben to avoid any loud noises, he continues to play at concerts. When Ruben’s DAA mentor sends him to the community for deaf recovering addicts, Ruben leaves, willing to be a musician again. That said, in the first act, an incident occurs – Ruben’s loss of hearing – whereafter the main character becomes self-destructive until the end of the act, when they “begin their journey” – Ruben’s decision to start therapy. After the film’s incident, one expects Ruben to join the community since he definitely needs its help. Hence, one deems the chain of scenes with Ruben’s excessively illogical behaviour forced and conveniently constructed in contrast to Lou’s excessively logical behaviour. Indeed, one might argue that after discovering such a health issue, people tend to act against their needs, unable to process the new situation. However, when the viewer can predict the events between hearing loss and therapy beginning, then that’s an inevitable trade-off for “character-gets-seriously-ill-or-injured” films, isn’t it? For example, in Stronger, Jake Gyllenhaal’s character, after his legs get amputated, embraces his affinity for laziness and drinking even more than before the incident, exacerbating his relationships with family, friends and his girlfriend. Or in Scent of a Woman, even though Al Pacino’s character has been blind for decades, his self-destructive behaviour not only hasn’t stopped, but has actually intensified, given that his (initial) goal in the film is to commit suicide.
Moreover, through a series of dull dialogue scenes – e.g. “Yeah, no…Yeah, thank you, much appreciated” – Lou makes sure that Ruben returns to the community permanently, worried that he’ll start using again. And that’s her character’s only purpose, to push the main character further along the plot. When the movements on the chessboard are so apparent, the magic of the game evaporates.
Though let’s not forget about the film’s splendour. As elegantly as one can get, Sound of Metal portrays the possibility for deaf people to live normally. For instance, Ruben and a deaf child communicate through the vibrations of each other’s drumming on the slide. Or the competitive games that the pupils play during the Sign Language lessons – e.g. who can gesticulate the alphabet the fastest. Or the cutely evocative discussion about sexuality that Ruben and a deaf lesbian have through drawings and tattoos. And this subtle normalisation works exquisitely, because what’s wrong with being deaf?!
When Sound of Metal goes sermonising, however, it all goes wrong. Toxically determined to hear again, Ruben sells his RV to purchase cochlear implant processors. Thereafter, he goes to Joe (Paul Raci), the man who runs the community, and asks him for money to repurchase his RV. Well, firstly, Ruben could’ve asked him to pay for the implants – it’s the same amount of money and the same amount of “I-want-my-old-life-back” connotation – and secondly, Ruben knows that the community has no money since the local parish funds it. So, what can be the point of this nonsensical request? For Joe’s character to artificially accentuate the theme with his patronising monologue about how deaf people shouldn’t consider themselves handicapped. The orchestration of the scene’s dynamic and Joe’s lengthy monologue illuminate the screenwriters’ underestimation of the audience. Mostly being a visual medium, cinema teaches morals through images successfully enough, as the film subtly does either way, so the viewer doesn’t require a lecturing hammer in the face.
According to the theme, Ruben’s way to “normality” is to be in the community where the “deaf” variable is eliminated. In Rain Man, for instance, the “mental handicap” variable is eliminated at the psychiatric institution. Therefore, the film’s theme makes Tom Cruise’s character realise that Dustin Hoffman’s “Rain Man” is better off at the institution than living at his place. So far, the same idea: both films underline the community’s vitality. However, in Rain Man, two remarkably essential visual elements trigger Cruise’s realisation, something that Hoffman’s doctors have attempted to do verbally, and yet, unsuccessfully. At the midpoint, Cruise discovers that Hoffman can’t function “normally” in the outside world after the latter stops in the middle of a busy road. And then, during the climax, after seeing how confused Hoffman is when asked “Do you want to live with your brother or stay at the institution”, Cruise fully comprehends the institutions’ benefits. In Sound of Metal, the climax crafts a terrific contrast-driven scene. Ruben's trying to enjoy some piano tunes but his implants distort the beautiful sound, which leads him to the “silence” self-revelation. Then again, before that scene, no event – except for Joe’s sermons – challenges Ruben’s toxic drive to hear again at any cost. To accentuate the thematic contrast visually – and therefore, more powerfully – around the film’s midpoint, the writers could’ve juxtaposed a blissful moment when Ruben embraces the reality – such as the drumming on the slide – with a detrimental, outside-the-community experience. For example, Ruben could’ve fled the community – because “it’s not enough” – got in his RV, driven pedal to the metal, and almost collided with another vehicle because he couldn’t hear it approaching. Consequently, he would’ve realised that while he’s deaf, he has to abstain from certain actions for his own safety and others’. And then, the sonically-distorted climax would’ve continued the thread of change; he will learn that he also has to abstain from his toxic determination to fully hear again because he never will.
On-the-nose dialogue is an easy way out. One puts the message across and the viewers get it instantly. But they prefer to be inspired by the imagery to infer a message themselves. Sound of Metal can’t quite hack it. There’s too much noise when one’s supposed to enjoy the silence.