The sound design is extraordinary. Dialogue is often muffled, distant, or obscured by the rumble of trams, the chatter of strangers, or the wind through the trees. Instead, we hear the scratch of pencil on paper, the click of heels on pavement, the sigh of a disappointed man. Composer Jocelyn Pook (of Eyes Wide Shut fame) provides a haunting, minimalist string score that only appears at moments of peak emotion—like a memory surfacing briefly before sinking back into the dark.
Modern cinema (and life) is terrified of silence. In the City of Sylvia is resolutely still. It forces you to sit with boredom, to notice the way light falls on a cheek, to listen to the mundane music of footsteps. It is a form of cinematic meditation. in the city of sylvia 2007
What makes In the City of Sylvia unforgettable is not what the characters say, but how the camera moves. Guerín, alongside cinematographer Natasha Braier (who would go on to shoot The Neon Demon and Roma), created a visual grammar of desire and distance. The sound design is extraordinary