Does Movie Sound Always Have to Do More?

I recently came across a video in which an editor, who describes himself as specializing in storytelling, takes a fight scene from Enola Holmes, on Netflix, and re-records all of its sound from scratch. His verdict: it is missing the "buildup," the "momentum," the "swishes," and the "whooshes." The original scene, he says, has nothing but the impacts, the contacts. By adding a "buildup," he argues, he "gives the violence a body." In his view, the original sound was deliberately toned down "so it wouldn't seem too violent," as if to spare an audience under twelve. I understand the demonstration, but I do not share it. And I would like to explain why.

What These Effects Really Bring

Let's be fair first. The whoosh that rides along an arm slicing through the air, the rising tension before an impact, the weight added to a blow: these are real tools, well mastered, and effective. They guide the ear, tell it where to look, and add depth and spectacle. A sound editor's work is an art in its own right, and these techniques are part of its grammar. On that point, the video's author is right: his version is more "cinematic" in the way we understand the word today.

But It's a Convention, Not Reality

Where I lose the thread is when this pile of extra sounds is presented as the norm, as something that would be "missing." Because in film, an unreal sound often feels truer than the real one, especially for weapons and explosions. Professionals know it well: a real punch makes a dull, almost disappointing thud, while the sharp whip-crack of the movies is pure fabrication. A real explosion is nothing but a wall of noise, a "boom" that, left as is, would fall flat in a theater. So a whistle, a rough edge, is layered on so it can cut through the mix. The same goes for that metallic clink glued to every weapon that moves, blade or firearm: in reality, a blade slicing the air makes almost nothing, and a pistol being handled does not chime with every gesture. It is a Foley reflex, a code the ear has come to expect, not a physical truth. In other words, when a scene "has nothing but the contacts," that is not necessarily an oversight. It may be the closest thing to what a body actually hears.

More Real, Not More Childish

The video's author ties this restrained sound to a film for younger viewers, as if the violence had to be softened to stay accessible to kids under twelve. I see it differently. On screen, this fight is genuinely violent, and the sound, in its dry realism, is just as violent. A dull impact, a breath, a body hitting the ground: this bareness hides nothing. It states the violence as it is, without dressing it up as spectacle. I really do believe this choice is deliberate, the choice of a sound editor stepping down a notch from cinema's unreality. And I am glad of it. If, in his eyes, that makes for a more childish film, in mine it makes for a more real one, and even a more educational one for our ears, all of us, not just children. That is exactly what de-escalation means: not mistaking intensity for accumulation, and giving sound back its proper scale.

Training the Ear Also Means De-escalating

Our ears have been trained by decades of one-upmanship. Each film a little denser, more saturated, and louder than the last, in a race for effect that looks a lot like a loudness war. I have already written here about my irritation with the piercing feedback squeal that opens nearly every location recording in the movies. Training the way we listen is not only about stacking layers: it is sometimes about agreeing to do less, and letting reality exist.

I am not saying that sonic spectacle is illegitimate, or that the re-recorded version is "bad." I am saying that the other path exists, that it is defensible, and that it deserves better than to be seen as a flaw to fix. Restraint can be an intention. And you, do you prefer a fight carried by whooshes, rising tension, and clinking steel, or a drier, more realistic clash where all you hear are the bodies?