by Cris Mora-Villa, Contributing Writer
It was in the closing days of last year’s Chicago International Film Festival (CIFF) that I first saw Ildikó Enyedi’s Silent Friend. Part of what I look forward to when attending any festival are the anticipatory surprises bound to come my way. Such as in my first year attending when I was left crushed by the systematically unforgiving chill of Vladimir Perišić’s Lost Country. Or in 2024 when the timeless poignancy of I’m Still Here from Walter Salles moved me to tears. Though neither film held the distinction of being my absolute favorite among their respective lineups, I nonetheless remember them fondly in part because of the level of quality in relation to expectation. 2025 held the strongest lineup yet, with incredible selections like The Tale of Silyan, Magellan, and Resurrection. And yet, I finished that slate of movies confident Silent Friend wasn’t just the best of the lot, but also the unexpected choice that knocked me on my ass. Or more appropriately, the movie that forced me to lean forward out of my seat.
Unlike the two aforementioned films from past years, Silent Friend isn’t aiming to direct the audience toward a specific emotion. Rather what I felt initially and then subsequently upon a rewatch was a transfixing energy meticulously composed of various images and sounds juxtaposing space and time itself. It is in that intersection though where Silent Friend most excels as a cinematic statement. Films that left a lasting impression on me for similar reasons would include Jane Schoenbrun’s I Saw the TV Glow, Ava DuVernay’s Origin, and Kristen Stewart’s The Chronology of Water. For all their differences in genre and setting, each film expresses itself with a fervor, uniquely calibrated to fit the emotional tenor and artistic sensibilities of the respective filmmakers. They are singular in how they navigate notions of self-expression, systemic patterns in the repetition of history, and identity in relation to media. Though the end product can hardly be considered universally palatable for a mass audience, what cannot be denied is the attempt to expose the viewer to a wholly unique experience. In her own self-assured fashion, Enyedi follows suit with Silent Friend.
The foremost thought that comes to mind when ruminating on Silent Friend is the film’s ability to hold itself together. It was during my second viewing that it occurred to me just how easily it would be for the film’s slow, avant-garde approach to give way and fall out of rhythm. I’d argue the three movies I previously mentioned as cinematic parallels to Silent Friend struggle with the same issue yet are able to walk the tightrope and avoid any alienating pitfalls. Despite the naturally off putting Lynchian tenor I Saw the TV Glow is tonally tapped into. It has the advantage of planting itself in the horror-tinged aesthetics and macabre set pieces of “The Pink Opaque,” which gives the end product a more conventionally inviting hue. Such a genre bend imbues an atmosphere that is inherently all-the-more engrossing, whereas Origin and The Chronology of Water navigate their tone with an added freneticism in their edit as a means to accelerate the looseness of their respective biographical texts. Though its three narratives lead to a fair bit of jumping back and forth in time, Silent Friend holds firmly by directly layering its thematic framework of nature as a living, breathing ecosystem into a literal presence in the lives of each story’s protagonist. The campus grounds itself, with its green and luscious scenery, is there to provide a comforting presence when the rest of the world is anything but.
Set in 1908, 1972, and 2020 respectively, the film intercuts between three stories of isolated individuals conducting botany related experiments on the campus grounds of a medieval German university. Beginning in early 2020, we meet Dr. Tony Wong (Tony Leung Chiu-wai), a newly hired professor at Marburg University seeking to continue his research on brain activity for newborn infants. When the COVID-19 pandemic shuts down the campus, Wong is left alone with only the leery school janitor Anton (Sylvester Groth) and zoom sessions with botanist Dr. Alice Sauvage (Léa Seydoux) to keep him company as he pivots his research. In 1972, reserved university student Hannes (Enzo Brumm) is drawn towards his flirtatious housemate Gundula (Marlene Burow) who is conducting her own experiment involving a geranium. When Gundula leaves for a trip, Hannes forms his own strong connection to the flower as he continues her experiment in her stead. Lastly in 1908, Grete (Luna Wedler) having been freshly admitted as the university’s first female student, must face ingrained sexism at the hands of her male peers, before soon finding solace in photography. Taken under the tutelage of experienced shop owner Herr Fuchs (Martin Wuttke), Grete gets the idea to use her newfound skills to observe plants in a new light via her own photographic compositions. It is in these three tales that Silent Friend becomes an artifact to the everlasting nature of time itself, connecting everything past and present into a singular experience waiting to be discovered right here on Earth.
Each story relays a similar emotional throughline for its central character. Tentatively attempting to form a connection to either another person, or more generally the world at large through a scientific understanding of another species. The notion of connective tissue rests at the center of the film, Enyedi going as far as to include visual excerpts of magnified plant growth and technological field study as a means of not just sparking the same fascination in the viewer as is felt by the characters but supplanting a connection to the film’s setting. Marburg University is home to the Alter Botanischer Garten, which itself is home to thousands of other botanical organisms. Collectively, there is an energy emitted from these century-old lifeforms that beget the need for a greater understanding. Be it in a cosmic sense akin to understanding one’s place in the universe, or in matters of evolutionary advancement, nature as an environment comes with a history that transcends the generational lifecycle of human life. When amplified through a cinematic lens, what Enyedi chooses to push to the forefront is an incandescent presence that can’t help but attract one’s curiosity. The movie’s lasting symbol which encapsulates that human instinct comes in the form of a nearly 200-year-old ginkgo biloba, who in actuality is the film’s real main character.
Without discounting the narrative value of the individual stories themselves, I’d say there is as much importance placed on how they are being presented which only elevates what is actually being said in them. Every tool at Enyedi’s disposal is used to heighten the environmental atmosphere of each tale, in the process displaying an immense craft across all areas of production. Cinematographer Gergely Pálos won the Silver Hugo award at CIFF for best cinematography, a decision I believe was arrived at handedly. In accordance with the distinctive time periods, Pálos shoots each in a different format. Scenes set in 1908 were filmed on black-and-white 35 mm film; the contemporary 2020 portion of the film was filmed digitally; and the 1972 segment was filmed on 16 mm film. Not only does this distinguish the respective time periods to an era appropriate medium, transitioning between the three is a virtually seamless feat. A massive credit is owed to every member of the sound department in their orchestration like creation of the noise itself. Part of how the film is able to amass such a unique and deliberate climate is through the many pieces that make up the whole. In the air or on the ground are the endless buzzes and clicks and chirps emanating from cicadas, birds, crickets, bees, owls, ladybugs, mosquitoes, stag beetles, etc. And yet it is anything but cacophonous, it’s simply a replication of the spaces like the Alter Botanischer Garten. Editor Károly Szalai also remains vital to the film, gently yet assuredly controlling the density of the narrative to ensure that it moves with intention.
All of these facets play into Enyedi’s overall vision for Silent Friend, presenting the picture as something of a philosophical treatise. Funneled partly via the aforementioned ginkgo biloba, the tree is shown to date back to 1832 and is seemingly fully grown by the time Grete first encounters it. Without ever vocalizing what it is about the tree that grabs a hold of her, its power is felt and continues the trend with Hannes and especially Wong. Cliche might it be to say the tree is the titular Silent Friend, that’s more or less an approximation of what these natural structures are. Enyedi asks that the audience invest in the natural world just as much as the parallel contemporary issues each character just so happens to exist during. For Grete, it’s the gender barrier that pushes her toward a subservient or patronized position which she has no choice but to abide by despite her proven intelligence. Hannes, who is somewhat of a botanical novice compared to Wong and Grete lives in a period of generational counterculture and is rather apathetic towards those surroundings, as well as by far the most misunderstood in his preoccupation with botany. The remnants of lockdown era coronavirus are all too familiar to just about everyone on the planet, so the loneliness of Wong’s desolate surroundings don’t need much explaining. In spite of each of those circumstances, all three of their subsequent experiments yield results that point toward the notion of growth, unexplainable as it sometimes is. They may never know it, but each character is a part of the ginkgo’s history. Watching the film through a western perspective drove home the tenuous connection to nature that I feel is the norm in America. Though I may not have fully arrived at all of what the film has to say, I find myself looking at trees and the world overall a bit differently now.
Rating: Loved it
Silent Friend is available to Rent on most major streaming Video-On-Demand platforms.
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