Sound of Falling review: A century of shared grief ties womanhood in this sprawling epic

Schilinski’s control over the language of the visual medium is unapologetically ambitious and opaque, letting go off of any plot-based intrigue. It has a ghostly, miraculous gaze where we are either watching the women looking at the world they inhabit, or we become the gaze ourselves. We look through keyholes and windowpanes, rush through hallways and stop near the pool, but we are ever-present. Fabian Gamper’s camerawork is astonishing to behold, tying the spectrum of womanhood through the cross-section of common camera angles, pensively waiting for them or following them through.

The premise

Think Jane Campion and Terence Malik in a nutshell, but any rush towards straightforward references might sound irrelevant because this is wholeheartedly an original vision from Schilinski. The only thing that broadly ties the film together is the huge farmhouse, which passes down from one generation to the next, the same corners and corridors, the same wooden floors that reveal a shared secret that is available only to the women.

It takes a little time to tie the dots together, as Schilinski is not interested in taking a chronological approach to time and action here. The four women and their families become recognisable. The quartet includes the little girl Alma (Hanna Heckt), Erika (Lea Drinda), who stays just after the Second World War, the impulsive Angelika (Lena Urzendowsky), and Lenka (Laeni Geicomple. These women are not from the same family, even, but their inner voices, spread across the film like a voiceover of sorts, reveal an intimate connection of womanhood.

Time dissolves completely, and the film exists in its own kind of rhythm, returning to the places and sounds across the four decades. A deeply disturbing scene includes the reimagination of an old photograph, where Alma pretends to be dead and adjusts herself to experience what it feels like to be at that moment.

These women’s lives are marked with violence, disdain and hardship. They are being seen, and the manner in which they are being perceived for their physical features by men persists across time. Patriarchy shifts and positions itself as a constant in these women’s lives, and Schilinski grants these characters brief moments of total surrender. One particularly haunting scene takes place at a field where Angelika deliberately falls to her death, as the farming equipment that cuts the crops draws nearer and nearer. Schilinski violently cuts the scene, more often than once, and I found myself scared and stunned at the director’s ability to seek answers without providing any.

Final thoughts

Watching a film is a collective experience, where we forget the immediate present and dive into the world infront of us onscreen. The Sound of Falling pushes and challenges the limits of visual inquiry, as the film also transforms as if we are being watched. By the women, by the changing times. Have we evolved to become better versions of ourselves? Have the conditions of interpersonal relationships changed? The Sound of Falling is a film of sensations that flows like the stream of consciousness. Schilinski wants you to sit through it all. It is unforgettable in scope and feverish in its impact. I haven’t stopped thinking about it.