Hearing Film Review: Threadbare Minimalism

Hearing’s meticulous visuals and outstanding sound design aren’t enough to eke out enough meaning from the film’s loose narrative.

It’s a purposefully ambiguous piece of slow cinema that bears similarities to other masters of this genre such as Apichatpong Weerasethakul (Tropical Malady, Memoria) and Béla Tarr (Werckmeister Harmonies), although it never births the same complexities from minimalism as those directors’ films do.

Hearing’s opening segment is fascinating: Bảo starts in a busy bar packed with punters getting steadily drunker, his observational camerawork blending into the surroundings. In the midst of this liveliness is Ninh (Nguyễn Quốc Tuấn, of People Living Beside Me), a decibel-reader technician who is installing a device in the bar’s main area. He moves with a silent patience through this social chaos, a reserved, detached onlooker who feels like he’s sitting next to the viewer rather than actually inhabiting this bar. Hearing is instantly entrancing.

From here, Bảo follows Ninh through a variety of different everyday encounters, whether it is caring for his ailing mother or meeting up with his two young children. Hearing’s plot is extremely loose, although this isn’t actually a notable shortcoming of the film. The way Bảo leads us through this slack procession of images is always unique, and the lack of a firm narrative is not an issue. Indeed, Bảo still manages to craft interesting characters from restricted dialogue, instead utilising strong imagery to convey certain emotions.

Where Hearing falters is in its inability to create meaningful thematic commentary or well-rounded ruminations. Take, for example, Memoria—the Weerasethakul film with most in common with Hearing. This Tilda Swinton-helmed work similarly juxtaposes urban and rural worlds whilst seeping sci-fi elements into proceedings. It does this with a looseness comparable to Hearing, but still manages to coalesce into something extremely rich and stirring—emotionally, philosophically, and mentally. Bảo’s film occasionally reaches such heights, but more often that, the meticulous images carry an underdeveloped meaning. 

Added to this is a frequent danger in slow cinema: lethargy. It can be seen most clearly in the acting performances, where the characters too often move at a snail’s pace, seeping energy and interest out of scenes. In addition, working with such a restrained script means a lot of the performances come across as blank and largely emotionless. 

Nevertheless, Hearing clearly marks Bảo out as a unique filmmaker with the potential to hone his gorgeous visual eye into something more cohesive and meaningful. It would help if he sticks with Hearing’s DOP Nguyen Vinh Phuc (Taste) and sound designer Wey Yinn Teo (Stone Turtle). The latter is a main reason for the film’s strengths; ambient, background sounds become a character in themselves. Everyday noise is purposefully audible, and often subdued to enhance Ninh’s loneliness. But as meticulous as Hearing is in craft, too often it becomes a film with little else going for it other than gorgeous visuals and great sound design.

Hearing will be screened at the BFI London Film Festival on October 14, 2026.