There’s something quietly magnetic about Julie Keeps Quiet, Belgium’s 2025 Oscar submission for Best International Feature. It opens, in medias res, with tension already in the air – news breaks at a prestigious tennis academy: coach Jeremy has been suspended. No one knows exactly what happened, but whispers quickly begin to circle. And Julie, the academy’s most promising star, chooses not to speak.
She doesn’t flinch. She doesn’t fight. She just stays still, and does “her job”.
Julie’s world is routine and rigorous: school, training, sleeping, repeating. Discipline shapes her. So she is disciplined and loyal even in her silence. But as questions pile up-about the coach, about a former player who made it to the Belgian Tennis Federation (Julie’s dream) and later took her own life – Julie remains composed, a quiet storm brewing beneath a calm surface.
Tessa Van den Broeck, in her stunning screen debut, carries nearly every frame of the film. Director and writer Leonardo Van Dijl (in his feature directorial debut) never leaves her side. Often literally – background characters blur into soft focus, camera movements are minimal, and framing stays grounded and still, like Julie herself. It’s a stylistic choice that mirrors the emotional state of the character: shut off and observant every step. Van Dijl is precise, decisive and bold from the opening credits to the very end.
The movie reminded me of The Assistant (2020), Kitty Green’s workplace parable about complicity and toxic workplaces. Both films share a frosty color palette, closely follow their lead (with hauntingly beautiful close-ups), and an eerily quiet tension that feels impossible to shake. But Julie Keeps Quiet offers a different angle – athletic rigor in place of corporate drudgery, and a young woman still forming her identity in an environment that has way too many demands – and darkness.
Julie is not alone in the frame, but she feels like it. Her silence isolates her, just like the shadow of Jeremy that has been in control of her for far too long, and Van Dijl paints that isolation without melodrama. There’s a discipline not just in the characters, but in the filmmaking itself-nearly no camera movement long takes by cinematographer Nicolas Karakatsanis (Bullhead, The Drop). The texture of the film is tactile, weighty, and quiet. Caroline Shaw’s lyrical score – layered with female vocals and rhythmic breath-blends with the grunts, squeaks, and echoes of tennis training, creating a sonic environment.
The film never “oversells” its message. Abuse, power, manipulation – these exist in the corners of the film, never exploited for shock or sensation. Jeremy (Laurent Caron) is no caricature, but a chillingly familiar figure: a coach who isolates, gaslights, and manipulates in a system that allows him to operate unchallenged. In contrast, another coach, Backie (played with warmth and realism by Pierrette Gervais), is everything Jeremy isn’t – healthy, supportive and caring.
One of the film’s most resonant metaphors unfolds on the practice court: players in a semi-circle step forward to take turns hitting a ball. Over and over, they repeat the motion. It’s hypnotic, almost ritualistic. Reminding us, the cycle continues – until someone breaks it.
Julie’s journey is one of slow reclamation. At first, her silence is self-protection and a cover-up for her shame and confusion. But gradually, it becomes a quiet form of resistance. She begins to reclaim her agency – not in grand gestures, but in shifts of gaze, boundaries she chooses to draw, and choosing to align herself with healthier systems and people.
Importantly, those around her give her space throughout the entire story. Her family, her teachers, even club staff – they make it known she’s supported, without pushing her to explain or relive anything before she’s ready. This, too, feels refreshing, empathetic and honest.
Julie Keeps Quiet is not about sensational revelations. It’s about the slow internal process of recognizing harm, acknowledging its impact, and inching toward recovery.
It’s lyrical but raw, poetic but grounded. There’s no need for dramatization – unfortunately, reality is already dramatic enough.
Ultimately, Julie Keeps Quiet is a deeply moving and necessary story about the cost of silence, the strength it takes to break it and the importance of providing support and care for victims of horrendous acts. For anyone who has ever felt the weight of unspoken trauma, for anyone who’s trained under that kind of pressure, and for anyone who has needed time to say no – Julie’s story resonates.
Julie Keeps Quiet is currently available to rent or purchase on digital platforms such as Apple TV, Amazon Prime Video, and select VOD services. Catch it in theaters if it’s still screening in your neighborhood.
~ by Dora Endre ~
Comments