At Cannes, where glamor and introspection often walk the red carpet hand in hand, Paul Mescal brought something more enduring than just charisma—he brought a statement.
As the Irish actor promoted his latest film, History of Sound, he offered a reflection on what it means to be a man on screen in 2025. And in doing so, he may have unintentionally stepped into the role of a new kind of leading man: one who isn’t defined by dominance, but by depth.
“There’s a sort of crisis in masculinity,” Mescal admitted, echoing remarks he’s made before. In an age where cultural expectations surrounding gender are shifting faster than ever, Mescal's insight taps into something Hollywood has wrestled with for years: the evolution of the male archetype.
Gone are the days when the leading man had to be a gruff cowboy or a silent strongman. In their place is a more multifaceted figure—someone who bleeds, who breaks, who listens. And in History of Sound, where Mescal’s character Lionel finds love in the trenches of World War I, the actor embodies this shift with quiet precision.
“This film is not trying to redefine masculinity,” Mescal clarified, “but it’s being subjective to the relationship between Lionel and David.” That nuance matters. The film isn’t a manifesto; it’s a mirror, reflecting the internal worlds of its characters without prescribing what it means to be a man.
Despite early chatter linking History of Sound to Brokeback Mountain, Mescal was quick to push back. “Other than we spent a little time in a tent,” he quipped, the comparisons fall flat.
Where Brokeback Mountain dwelled on repression, History of Sound celebrates a love born in silence, shaped by war, but free of shame. In an industry that too often relies on tropes to explore queer narratives, Mescal's frustration feels warranted.
“The relationship I have to the film,” he emphasized, “is born out of the fact that it’s a celebration between these men’s love.” Not a tragedy, not a cautionary tale—just love, in all its textured, human glory.
Mescal has also addressed the ever-lingering question in casting: Should straight actors play gay roles? His answer is both candid and conscientious. It depends, he says, “who’s in charge of telling the story.” The problem, he argues, isn’t identity—it’s intent. Offense comes not from orientation, but from carelessness. And in History of Sound, there’s no carelessness to be found.