There are ghosts inhabiting “Sound of Falling” — you just need to know where to look for them. German director Mascha Schilinski’s astonishing second feature could scarcely be more ambitious as it offers an impressionistic portrait of four young women who take turns residing in the same house over roughly 110 years.

But where other movies are overly precious while collecting the invisible string that binds characters from different time periods, “Sound of Falling” is stark and unsentimental. Covering the early 20th century through the present, gliding back and forth between eras with the deftest touch, the film views the living as merely the latest iteration of a fragile species that has been constantly struggling against unseen forces that drag it down, generation after generation. So many of the movie’s characters are long dead, their hopes and dreams now erased, while we strut and fret our hour upon the stage.

Winning the Jury Prize at last year’s Cannes, “Sound of Falling” introduces us to Alma (Hanna Heckt), a child living on her family farm in northern Germany around 1910; adolescent Erika (Lea Drinda), who occupies the house in the 1940s; flirty 1980s teen Angelika (Lena Urzendowsky); and Lenka (Laeni Geiseler), a shy tween hanging out with her mother and sister in the 21st century. Schilinski doesn’t hold the viewer’s hand, providing no title cards to indicate which time period we’re visiting. “Sound of Falling” doesn’t even start chronologically, opening with Erika as she silently adores her sleeping, bedridden uncle Fritz (Martin Rother), an amputee whose hairy chest and sweat-filled bellybutton entrance her. The reason for Fritz’s injury will eventually be revealed, but not immediately — Schilinski will not be rushed as her epic tale slowly unfolds.

In a sweepingly offhand way, “Sound of Falling” is a canny exploration of how sexism and repression echo across the ages. The unconscionable treatment of maids in Alma’s era finds uncomfortable parallels in the 1980s, when Angelika is both appalled and intrigued by the leering looks of her uncle Uwe (Konstantin Lindhorst). But Schilinski never underlines her points: Events occur not because the plot twists are attached to a larger thematic idea but, rather, because these women’s lives are crushingly commonplace for their time periods. It is only by seeing them in concert that we fully understand the whole symphony.

Much like the exceptional recent dramas “Aftersun” and “Nickel Boys,” “Sound of Falling” plays as an act of re-created memory. But while all three dreamlike films expertly mimic the imperfect act of remembering, Schilinski’s makes the past seem irretrievable — a ghost whose presence we can feel but not touch. “Sound of Falling” presents Alma’s and Erika’s agrarian segments as dusty museum pieces, with even the 1980s and 21st century portions coming across as hazy snapshots. The rueful voice-over from myriad characters is spoken in the past tense, the onscreen moments (even the present-day scenes) seemingly being recollected long after. And Fabian Gamper’s spectral cinematography sometimes incorporates POV shots that produce the sensation that we, the viewer, are physically touring these long-abandoned rooms. When the characters occasionally look at the camera, the effect is chilling, briefly but powerfully bridging the distance between then and now, them and us.

Audiences will gradually realize that there are familial connections between these women, although those specifics are best left discovered within “Sound of Falling’s” temporal drift. Family is central to Schilinski’s work. (Literally: She and Gamper are married, recently welcoming their first child.) Thus far, though, her films express misgivings about the virtue of those bonds. Her 2017 debut, “Dark Blue Girl,” concerned a young girl scheming to keep her separated parents from getting back together. In “Sound of Falling,” incest rears its ugly head, as does suicidal ideation and a relentless desire to escape. The four young women never meet, yet they share a sense of despair. Alma’s confusion at the secretive manner in which adults behave is no different than Lenka’s insecurity a century later as she befriends a girl (Ninel Geiger) who seems far older and wiser. What if Alma and Lenka could talk, “Sound of Falling” asks. What would they say to one another?

Such questions are central to this elusive marvel, which invites the viewer to complete the drawing that Schilinski evocatively sketches. Images and ideas repeat over time periods: buzzing flies, the taking of photos, the haunting use of Anna von Hausswolff’s 2015 ballad “Stranger.” The song’s lyrics don’t directly correspond to the beauty and pain contained in “Sound of Falling” — it’s just one more layer of enigma in a movie that doesn’t answer all its riddles. But these lines are a useful guide to appreciating its ghostly spell: “There is something moving against me / It’s not in line with what I know / Changing the heart, changing the spirit / Changing my path, changing my soul.” To see this film is to be transformed.