Silent Friend

Enyedi and master cinematographer Gergely Pálos bring us a triptych of tales in three separate time frames, employing individual cinematic formats for each.

Built around silences and the steady accumulation of human and natural detail, the story feels at times as if it’s being told by the tree itself: omniscient, unflinching, yet shot through with an almost alien tenderness. Its perspective is not so much Olympian as it is pointillist.

Immersing yourself in the daze of Silent Friend is like accepting a joyous gift, even if you don’t ultimately believe that plants can or want to communicate with us. With her exquisite new work, Ildikó Enyedi has achieved the improbable goal of making non-human, humanistic cinema that is inclusive and reverent without falling into idolization (of plants) or condemnation (of humans).

A profoundly moving experience about nuanced thematic explorations of connections that is exceptionally crafted. The somber filmmaking highlights an engaging atmosphere, and the narrative is layered, nuanced, and captivating. The performances are all exceptional.

Silent Friend ponders ideas of connection and consciousness with a touch that can only be called botanical: slow, serene, sensuous.

While the three sections don’t tie up narratively, nor strictly conclude as such, they leave plenty of ideas in their wake – and a multitude of entrancing images.

Plenty of things happen, but Silent Friend isn’t traditionally plot-driven. It’s a film of sprawling ideas that float around like pollen, with some particles creating marvelous blooms. Others drift off aimlessly.