How do you distinguish a house and a home? The common approach is to view the former as merely a structure designed for human habitation, and that, over time and with some effort, it can transition into the latter. Many works have been formed around this very concept, which is why it is slightly too conventional to be entirely interesting. This was until Mascha Schilinski proved that this discussion could indeed be had without resorting to the same trite cliches we normally find punctuating these stories, delivered in the form of Sound of Falling (German: In die Sonne schauen), one of the year’s most ambitious and mystifying achievements. Set on a remote farm in the Altmark region of Germany (a part of the country with a long, storied history, albeit one that is not commonly explored artistically), the film is set in four distinct periods – the dawn of the First World War, the aftermath of the Second World War, the 1980s and the early 21st century – and follows the various residents (in particular the women) who have called this place their home. Over the course of a century, we witness this house change form as new residents come and go, the passage of time bringing an abundance of change, but where the structure remains the same, becoming plastered with new stories, each one helping us understand the myriad lives that found their way through this relatively ordinary building. A poignant, captivating drama that balances literary realism with a sense of quiet whimsy and curiosity, Sound of Falling is a fascinating work, and an audacious introduction to the director, who has made a couple of films in the past, but only now is receiving the attention she deserves for this stellar work, a complex and engaging existential odyssey that is as provocative as it is unsettling, a series of moments that reach across many decades. It is engaged in the act of finding common elements that bind the various complex ideas together and make it such an engrossing, compelling achievement in terms of both narrative and execution, which the director captures in vibrant, compelling detail throughout the film, showing us a new side to not only history but to the human condition as a whole.

The concept of a character study where the home is the primary protagonist is not a foreign concept, as we’ve seen attempts to explore history through the lens of a particular place, following its changes over the years. There is something about personifying a house as more than just an architectural achievement, but rather a sentient entity, that is quite appealing and genuinely intriguing, particularly when it is done right. Sound of Falling certainly meets this criteria, especially since Schilinski makes it clear that this is a film with a lot of meaning for her, specifically in that she and her co-writer Louise Peter were impelled to tell this story after spending some time in the Altmark region – anyone who has visited a part of the world where history lingers heavily in the air will understand the innate desire they had to explore these places and the people who have called it home over the centuries, which we find compels many of the most captivating moments that drive this film. However, it cannot simply be a film about a house on its own – it is a charming idea at first, but the novelty wears off after a short while, which is where the additional themes come into play, and quite effectively. Sound of Falling is a film about womanhood in all its forms, running the gamut between being a coming-of-age story of young girls discovering the complexities of the world in which they were born, and a harrowing elegy to the older generation as they transition into the new plane of existence. Very rarely do we see a film where life and death exist so closely together as we do here, and it all serves to be in service of the director’s poetic attempt to capture the entirety of the human experience, with a particular focus on how women from across a century all occupy the same space, but where their triumphs and challenges are all mostly very different. It creates a wonderfully engaging dynamic that helps us fully understand the underlying subject matter, which Schilinski delivers in a simple, evocative manner.

Sound of Falling is certainly not a film that strives to be easily understood, which is entirely by design – it is a complex, layered character study handcrafted by someone who clearly finds it more valuable to lean into the inherent ambiguity, rather than retreat from something that most would consider too potentially polarising, especially for something with an already relatively abstract plot. Yet, even if we don’t entirely understand the narrative, which was certainly not intended to be easily digestible or straightforward, we can acknowledge that the story itself is actually secondary. The element that binds everything together in this film is the emotions, which Schilinski approaches with a lot of caution, being careful not to make it too dour an experience, and instead balancing the various ideas in a way that proves to be much more engaging than just the usual one-dimensional approach to examining difficult topics. Sound of Falling is a mood piece more than anything else – a simple, evocative exploration of humanity in which we are placed in the position of silent observers, voyeurs that peer into the lives of these people as they experience the usual challenges that we would expect. It’s very much driven by its atmosphere, and the very precise tone contributes quite a bit of the nuance, particularly in the areas where the story may struggle to communicate various ideas through dialogue – this is all part of the appeal of the film, since it feels like it is tapping into something much more innate and carnal, where we are led down a path that is much more sensory than it is logical. Schilinski plays with all of our senses, immersing us in this fascinating collage in which the past and present are blurred together to tell this complex story of several generations of women as they move through life, trying to understand their surroundings, which is not an easy endeavour by any means. It’s wonderfully compelling, and a lot of this has to do with the elegant, thoughtful approach to defining these characters as more than just archetypes, but instead vessels through which these complex ideas can be communicated.

First and foremost, Sound of Falling is a directorial achievement, and while this doesn’t disqualify its superb writing (there are some moments of pure poetry, particularly in the narration), it is clear that it is primarily a work built around the visual medium. The aesthetic of the film is astonishing all on its own – the design of this farmhouse and its surroundings is striking, particularly in terms of authenticity. It is a regular, non-descript house that would not stand out if we weren’t told to pay attention, but in the process of exploring this building, we begin to notice all the intriguing details – the structure remains the same throughout, with only the interiors changing to reflect the passage of time – and even in those moments, there is an intentional ambiguity, particularly since the scenes are not arranged chronologically, but rather in a scattered mosaic, each new scene being an additional fragment added into this fascinating puzzle of a film. The fluid, dynamic camera work by Fabian Gamper (who is Schilinski’s professional and personal partner, and someone who played a vital role in the development of this film alongside her) captures the setting beautifully. We rarely venture beyond the confines of this property, and the focus is on revealing the house to us slowly, resulting in several truly unforgettable moments, each one carrying a sense of sincerity and earnestness that feels genuinely earned. It also helps that the ensemble is one of the best of the year, since while it is mostly made up of working actors and newcomers (rather than being populated by familiar faces), they bring an additional layer of authenticity. Considering how much of the film is built around silences, where the camera lingers on characters’ faces and movements, it becomes as much an acting achievement as it is a directorial one, particularly in how it centres around quiet, meditative performances that are built around subtle human interactions that may appear subdued at first, but have an intensity that only truly reveals itself as the film progresses and becomes more engrossing.

At a glance, Sound of Falling does feel like a very formal, rigid work – this is not an accident, nor is it a flaw. Instead, it’s the product of a director who had a clear vision and the desire to execute it in a way that felt honest to her intentions. Schilinski seems to be inspired by centuries of literature, where evocative, lavish descriptions of locations were often the focus, using this as the impetus for an in-depth examination of culture, particularly focusing on gender dynamics and the experiences of women over the course of a century. It’s not an overly detailed feminist statement, at least not in the sense that it doesn’t fixate on the political details, but rather the role of women in social and domestic settings. Some of the most powerful moments are also the quietest, and it is likely that every viewer is going to find something different on which their mind continues to dwell. I found the moments where death is discussed the most intellectually and emotionally riveting – the blending of the cultural with the esoteric is fascinating, especially in how the director very carefully walks the line between religious customs and the more ambiguous associations we have with death. Yet, this is just one of dozens of unique elements that make Sound of Falling so deeply intriguing, and genuinely quite effective in a way that feels oddly quite prescient. It may spend a great deal of time on period-specific details, but this is far from a stuffy, overly didactic historical drama. Instead, it’s a dynamic, enthralling character study that is driven by curiosity, setting out to find answers to some impossible questions, and in the process developing a deep and sincere appreciation for aspects of life that are sometimes difficult to put into words. It’s a brilliant film, and while it can take its time (the 160 minute running time is slightly intimidating), it’s easy to get lost in the passages of this film, making Sound of Falling one of the year’s most unique and daring achievements, and a film that will hopefully introduce Schilinski to an industry that will benefit from her unique, daring vision.