Despite its thunderous opening, this is a quiet drama about a drummer who suddenly loses everything — his hearing, his career, and his girlfriend. What makes Sound of Metal truly special is its meticulous attention to detail. In this brief analysis, I’ll try to unpack the hidden meaning behind numerous details in one of the best dramas of recent years — a film nominated for six Academy Awards. In my opinion, it truly deserved to win Best Original Screenplay, and I hope by the end of this article, you’ll agree with me.

Warning: Spoilers ahead!

It’s no surprise that a film about hearing loss places special emphasis on sound. Right from the start, we see two nearly identical scenes — Ruben waking up in his trailer — first with normal hearing, and then nearly deaf. To highlight the contrast, the first scene uses close-ups, making everyday noises feel louder than usual. All background noise and dialogue are stripped away to heighten the effect.

In real life, we’re surrounded by a constant backdrop of sound — birds chirping, rustling leaves, the low hum of appliances. Our brains have evolved to filter these repetitive noises out so we can focus on sounds that signal danger. But meditation is based on the exact opposite skill: the ability to concentrate on your surroundings. The practice of not just hearing but listening is crucial for achieving mindfulness and a sense of inner peace — or Zen, if you will.

Although Ruben seems happy at the beginning of the film, wrapped in the arms of his girlfriend Lou, this is deceptive (or rather, self-deceptive from the characters’ point of view). We’ll come back to the reasons for this later. What’s important now is that Ruben still has a long way to go to “attain Zen.” For him, that means learning to hear the silence — recall the scene where the rehab center owner sends Ruben to sit in a room every morning and do nothing. As we follow Ruben’s journey, the filmmakers treat us to a series of static nature shots and calm environments. If you allow yourself to be fully immersed, the movie becomes a two-hour meditation and a kind of therapy.

Ruben’s first appearance in the film is onstage, performing shirtless, with a tattoo reading “Please kill me” across his chest. The next morning in the trailer, we see scars on Lou’s arms, indicating a past suicide attempt. These small details hint at a deep but unhealthy bond between the two. Their relationship is based on love, yes — but not the healthy kind. The scene of their parting confirms this. This leads us to the film’s central theme: addiction.

Ruben and Lou's life together was confined to their trailer, a safe haven where they both fled from their own demons — Ruben from drug addiction, Lou from the trauma of her mother’s suicide. They saved each other through their music and companionship, but when circumstances tear them apart, it becomes clear they must forge new lives as independent individuals. The deafness that enters Ruben’s life doesn’t just isolate him — it breaks the addictive nature of their relationship and opens the door for growth. Lou goes solo and quickly finds success — something their duo never quite managed to achieve.

Another striking example of addiction is Ruben’s obsession with getting a cochlear implant. Like an addict, he sells all his belongings to afford the surgery. In the scene where he begs the rehab center’s owner for money, the man notes astutely that Ruben is acting like a junkie.

Ruben’s journey of accepting his deafness is marked by his gradual abandonment of everything he once clung to — his trailer, his old lifestyle, and Lou. This shift becomes most obvious during a visit to Lou’s father’s house. Covered in tattoos and dressed casually, Ruben looks entirely out of place in this aristocratic setting. But the difference isn’t just visual. Lou’s family speaks French — a language Ruben doesn’t understand. When Lou starts singing in French, Ruben realizes that he no longer recognizes the woman he loved.

In fact, the “language of the hearing” becomes alien and even hostile to him. The artificial, metallic sounds transmitted through his cochlear implant are grating, unsettling — not just to Ruben, but to the viewer as well. So when Ruben finally switches the device off, he finds the peace that the rehab center’s owner once spoke about.

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