What begins as the pursuit of excellence in a high-pressure sports academy soon unravels into an unsettling portrait of pressure, silence, and emotional repression.
Julie Keeps Quiet, written and directed by Leonardo Van Dijl, is a character-driven sports drama that gives up traditional narratives of triumph and perseverance in favor of something more introspective. This isn’t a story about winning or losing on the court. It’s about the unspoken burdens that weigh on an athlete’s mind, the toxic dynamics lurking beneath ambition, and the cost of keeping quiet.
Julie lives and breathes the game as the star player at an elite youth tennis academy. Her routine is relentless: training, school, physical therapy, and back to training, all in pursuit of a coveted spot in the Belgian Tennis Federation. Yet, when her coach Jérémy is abruptly suspended following the tragic event of one of his protégées, the academy is forced to confront the uncomfortable reality of his influence.
Van Dijl’s direction is masterful in its restraint, offering a deeply immersive yet delicate exploration of trauma and repression. Rather than focusing on overt confrontation or external resolution, the story lingers in the aftermath, examining the following psychological and emotional dissonance. The tension isn’t in what is said but in what is left unspoken, creating an atmosphere of quiet dread that grows more suffocating as the film progresses.
At the heart of this slow-burning tension is Tessa Van den Brock’s remarkable performance as Julie. A first-time actress selected from a pool of young tennis players, Van den Brock delivers a performance that is both understated and profoundly affecting. Julie’s inability to articulate her emotions is one of the film’s most poignant aspects, yet Van den Brock conveys an intricate blend of fear, confusion, and bottled-up pain through the subtlest facial expressions and body language. Her portrayal captures the weight of unprocessed trauma, making every glance, every moment of hesitation, feel like a battle within itself.
Laurent Caron’s Coach Jérémy, on the other hand, is a chilling embodiment of manipulation and unchecked authority. Without relying on exaggerated villainy, Caron paints a portrait of a man with insidious power dynamics. His gaslighting and emotional manipulation are subtly woven into his interactions. His lack of accountability, even in his absence, lingers over Julie like a shadow.
Visually, Julie Keeps Quiet is restrained yet deliberate. The cinematography mirrors Julie’s internal state, tight, suffocating frames that rarely grant escape. Long, quiet shots emphasize isolation, forcing the audience to sit with Julie’s silence just as she must. The use of natural lighting adds to the stark realism, while the absence of an intrusive score allows the weight of each moment to settle deeply. Every decision, from camera placement to pacing, reinforces the film’s underlying unease.
Anxiety and tension build steadily throughout, not through dramatic confrontations or explicit revelations but through the crushing weight of expectation and secrecy. The film’s exploration of psychological distress is deeply nuanced, showing how trauma festers in the absence of acknowledgment. Julie’s silence is not just a refusal to speak, it is a method of survival, a form of resistance, and ultimately, an indictment of a system that allows silence to persist.
The film offers no easy resolutions for those expecting a cathartic moment of justice. Instead, it leaves the audience with something far more haunting, an understanding of how silence can be just as loud as any confession. This is a film that holds you captive, waiting for a moment to happen, based on inferences, for the sake of the main character. The audience roots for Julie on and off the court.