In the Hozier and Noah Kahan duet “Northern Attitude”, there exists a brief yet soaring yell which serves as both a call to battle and a sacred blessing. The song’s note has transcended its original form. It’s a feeling.
TikTok users have embraced this sound as the soundtrack for life’s most extraordinary and sometimes utterly ordinary. Moments through the 15-second “Hey!” which they described simply as feeling like Hozier’s yell. And honestly? They’re onto something. The sound captures the spirit of standing atop a mountain, completing a therapy session where emotional barriers fell, or viewing a film that opens your heart just enough to show your own pulse. These three films deliver a powerful experience not through spectacle alone, but through moments of raw humanity by lifting you up and shaking you until you step off the screen as someone transformed from who you were originally.
On paper, it’s chaos. Alternate realities, googly eyes, bagels that might contain the void. But somewhere beneath the absurdity, this is a story about holding on. To each other, to meaning, to softness in a world that doesn’t reward it. It’s about a woman who’s tired, a daughter who’s hurting, and a man who believes that kindness is still worth choosing — even when it’s hard. What makes this film feel like Hozier’s yell isn’t just the heartbreak or the hope, but the way it holds both at once. That yell in the song? It sounds like someone choosing love despite everything. That’s Waymond. That’s Evelyn. That’s a whole universe of people doing their best in spite of how overwhelming it all is. You don’t cry because it’s sad. You cry because it’s true.
It unfolds with almost painful patience, as if it doesn’t want to disturb the silence it so carefully builds. There’s no score guiding how you should feel, no dialogue wasted on things the eyes already say. It’s a film that trusts you to notice what matters, a hand held slightly too long, a breath caught just before speaking, the way someone looks away not to be polite, but to survive. At its core, it’s a story about the kind of love that is both transformational and temporary… not because it lacked meaning, but because it arrived in the wrong time. Marianne is hired to paint Héloïse, and in doing so, she begins to know her, deeply, fully, and too late. Every interaction is quiet but charged. You’re watching two people learn each other in real time, and every glance feels like it could break something open. And then, it ends. No dramatic finale. Just time, moving forward like it always does, indifferent to what it leaves behind. The final scene, Héloïse sitting alone in a concert hall, listening to a piece of music that once meant everything, is held for longer than feels comfortable. Maybe thats that’s the point. It holds the viewer the same way memory holds us, gently, and without permission. That scene doesn’t cry out. It doesn’t beg for you to feel something. It just exists full and devastatingly.
Little Women, Greta Gerwig’s 2019 adaptation, holds that kind of joy, the kind that’s rooted in real things, soft things, things that ache a little because they matter so much. The March sisters move through life with urgency and hunger and the deep, intimate chaos of being young and wanting more. Every room in the film is filled with overlapping voices, with half-finished thoughts and bare feet on wooden floors and a kind of warmth that feels lived-in. There’s a moment when they’re all together, laughing, piled in coats, telling stories, and you know the way the film knows that these kinds of moments don’t last forever… they happened. That’s why they matter. There’s beauty in that awareness, that love doesn’t have to last forever to be real. This is Hozier’s yell, too. It’s the kind that rises not from sorrow, but from joy that’s almost too big to hold.
TikTok users have embraced this sound as the soundtrack for life’s most extraordinary and sometimes utterly ordinary. Moments through the 15-second “Hey!” which they described simply as feeling like Hozier’s yell. And honestly? They’re onto something. The sound captures the spirit of standing atop a mountain, completing a therapy session where emotional barriers fell, or viewing a film that opens your heart just enough to show your own pulse. These three films deliver a powerful experience not through spectacle alone, but through moments of raw humanity by lifting you up and shaking you until you step off the screen as someone transformed from who you were originally.
@jaymescrib
Caught Hoziers first Northern Attitude yell back in 2023#noahkahan #hozier #northernattitude
♬ Northern Attitude – Noah Kahan & Hozier
Everything Everywhere All At Once (2022)
On paper, it’s chaos. Alternate realities, googly eyes, bagels that might contain the void. But somewhere beneath the absurdity, this is a story about holding on. To each other, to meaning, to softness in a world that doesn’t reward it. It’s about a woman who’s tired, a daughter who’s hurting, and a man who believes that kindness is still worth choosing — even when it’s hard. What makes this film feel like Hozier’s yell isn’t just the heartbreak or the hope, but the way it holds both at once. That yell in the song? It sounds like someone choosing love despite everything. That’s Waymond. That’s Evelyn. That’s a whole universe of people doing their best in spite of how overwhelming it all is. You don’t cry because it’s sad. You cry because it’s true.
Portrait of a Lady on Fire (2019)
It unfolds with almost painful patience, as if it doesn’t want to disturb the silence it so carefully builds. There’s no score guiding how you should feel, no dialogue wasted on things the eyes already say. It’s a film that trusts you to notice what matters, a hand held slightly too long, a breath caught just before speaking, the way someone looks away not to be polite, but to survive. At its core, it’s a story about the kind of love that is both transformational and temporary… not because it lacked meaning, but because it arrived in the wrong time. Marianne is hired to paint Héloïse, and in doing so, she begins to know her, deeply, fully, and too late. Every interaction is quiet but charged. You’re watching two people learn each other in real time, and every glance feels like it could break something open. And then, it ends. No dramatic finale. Just time, moving forward like it always does, indifferent to what it leaves behind. The final scene, Héloïse sitting alone in a concert hall, listening to a piece of music that once meant everything, is held for longer than feels comfortable. Maybe thats that’s the point. It holds the viewer the same way memory holds us, gently, and without permission. That scene doesn’t cry out. It doesn’t beg for you to feel something. It just exists full and devastatingly.
Little Women (2019)
Little Women, Greta Gerwig’s 2019 adaptation, holds that kind of joy, the kind that’s rooted in real things, soft things, things that ache a little because they matter so much. The March sisters move through life with urgency and hunger and the deep, intimate chaos of being young and wanting more. Every room in the film is filled with overlapping voices, with half-finished thoughts and bare feet on wooden floors and a kind of warmth that feels lived-in. There’s a moment when they’re all together, laughing, piled in coats, telling stories, and you know the way the film knows that these kinds of moments don’t last forever… they happened. That’s why they matter. There’s beauty in that awareness, that love doesn’t have to last forever to be real. This is Hozier’s yell, too. It’s the kind that rises not from sorrow, but from joy that’s almost too big to hold.