'Silent Friend' An Exploration of Loneliness That Wears its Heart on its Tree

Every twenty-something will vouch for the importance of third places with the assiduity of a doomsday crier, citing arts funding cuts, phone addiction, and the cost of living for their loss. Pop culture lifts them to a symbol of ancient divinity, like a Basilica in Roma or a Cathedral in Firenze. Seinfeld, Friends, Cheers - everybody’s favourite buddies orbit around this mystical, dying object. A third place doesn’t have to be a bar or a cafe. In his poem Fern Hill, Dylan Thomas wrote of childhood days at his Aunt’s farm  -  “In the sun that is young once only, time let me play and be golden in the mercy of his means”. You could argue that a third place could be anything that brings on this feeling - a poem, a book, a movie - or in the case of Silent Friend, a Gingko tree. 

Written and directed by Hungarian filmmaker Ildikó Enyedi (On Body and Soul, My 20th Century), Silent Friend (Stiller Freund) eases between three timelines in the small German university town of Marburg, where each of the central characters share a connection with the same gingko tree, balancing science-fiction elements with soothing naturalism. 

At the beginning of the Covid-19 pandemic, Neuroscientist Tony (Tony Leung) is stranded at the university, unable to continue his work analysing the brainwaves of infants. Inspired by her Ted Talks, he strikes up a virtual friendship with scientist Alice (Lea Seydoux), who encourages him to carry out his research on plants. He attaches sensors to a Gingko tree, and the waves his monitor picks up are almost indistinguishable from an infant’s. Tony becomes deeply involved with his research, to the annoyance of the only other soul (apart from the tree) on campus, bad-tempered custodian Anton (played to curmudgeonly perfection by Sylvester Groth). With a language barrier between them, and wildly different isolation coping techniques, Tony delights in discovering how similar and interconnected plants are to people, whilst Anton skulks around campus, adding a complexity to the human nature on display, without adding too much weight to the film. The Covid-19 setting isn’t awkward or shoehorned, but makes perfect sense for the Silent Friend’s slow, patient, meditative atmosphere.

Enyedi created the character of Tony especially for Leung - “She told me she watched some videos of me being interviewed and just saw something inside me”, Leung told Variety. These instinctual roots show in the film; everything feels natural, human, unforced and connected. 

In 1908, Greta (Luna Wedler) is the first female university student at Marburg, facing sexism and uncomfortable lines of questioning from professors who magnify the lurid sexuality of botanical reproduction. Shot on 35mm in black and white, this timeline is the film’s most dramatic, but manages to avoid a humourless slog through female suffering, without treating Greta’s successes as a Penny Marshall-esque triumph for womankind. She is sensitive and ambitious, with an inner world too rich to be bogged down by constant sexism. Greta takes a job as a photography assistant, where she uses the camera to uncover the intimacy and delicacy of plants, and herself.

The film’s naturalism and parallel narratives create an emotional distance that limits your understanding of her, leading you to draw upon your intuition to fill in the gaps - and when you cannot, you soak in her peace. 

In the film’s most pleasant storyline, Hannes (Enzo Brumm), a shy university student infatuated, is with his housemate, Gundula (Marlene Burow). Hannes spends much of his time in solitude, or in the company of the Gingko tree. Set in 1972 and shot on vibrant 16mm film, this timeline has a gentle, charming feel reminiscent of Eric Rohmer’s comedies and proverbs series (L'Ami de mon Amie, Le Rayon Vert), just lighter on the romance and heavier on the green thumb. Gundula trusts Hannes to participate in her experiment, which tracks a geranium’s response to human interaction. Hannes becomes closer to the geranium than he is to Gundula; at least the flower reciprocates his feelings, and he has the graphs to prove it. 

Enyedi was inspired by Goethe’s concept of the participatory experiment, in which scientist and subject influence each other. 'It’s about being separated, being sad about being separated, and trying to reach out.' she told Bakchormeeboy.

Silent Friend explores the universality and importance of connection, and the many forms it can take. We are all guided by the need to reach out, learn, and discover people, places and things. We look for something we recognise in ourselves, to feel less alone and at peace. When Tony tells Alice there is only one Gingko tree in the garden, recognising its loneliness, she sends over sperm, so it can be surrounded by a species of its own kind. The science in Silent Friend is dazzling, and gives you the same sense of awe as a David Attenborough documentary. It is difficult to tell where the line is drawn between science fiction and real-life botany, and just what capacity plants have for bonding and community. By the end of the film, you’re so full of peace and wonder at the beauty and fragility of the world that you don’t need to know the truth. 

As a result of the film’s naturalistic style, and pivoting between timelines, it is not character-driven, but nature driven, in the human sense as well as the literal. We are not given character portraits - the characters act as individual strokes adding texture to the story with their varied ways of handling loneliness, and different attitudes towards connection. 

Silent Friend is a patient, therapeutic meditation on the need for connection present in every living thing, and a quiet exploration of how this compulsion guides us. The themes of loneliness and connection give the film a relatability and a richness, bridging the distance that comes from viewing the characters’ lives only through glimpses. As the credits roll, you feel peaceful with a heightened sense of how interconnected the world is. You leave with a strong resolve to be more present and appreciative; to walk through the park and say hello to a stranger, to slow down, and be “golden in the mercy” of the moment, until it becomes a place.