Milk, a drama film, is the feature-length debut of Dutch director and screenwriter Stefanie Kolk, which premiered at the 2023 Venice Film Festival.

The film follows young mother Robin (Frida Barnhard), who delivered a stillborn child, and how the would-be parents, family members, and friends cope with the aftermath of the tragic event as well as the unavoidable administration. Robin stores the milk her body produces after childbirth, intending to donate it to mothers and babies in need. This simple act is met with unexpected bu-reaucratic obstacles.

Skillfully avoiding clichés, the director leaves room for our imagination by deftly balancing be-tween what we see and what remains unseen, using the actors’ mimicry and facial expressions. Robin’s family, gathered to support her, is also silent. Latent humor emerges in the static image of the family, whose members seem somewhat unprepared for the new circumstances. Robin’s bewilderment at their behavior, as she stands at the center of this confused group, prompts us to question who is comforting whom.

An intriguing contribution to the film’s dynamics comes from scenes of group forest walks, a form of therapy Robin dares to try. We see the walkers moving silently through the tranquility of the forest, and over time, they begin communicating through various non-verbal means. The si-lence gradually fills with muffled sobs, the crunching of twigs underfoot, the sound of sand-wiches being chewed, intentional nudges, and smiles. Finally, the silence gives way in a chapel at their destination, as the discordant chatter of the group members convinces us that it is impos-sible to block the path of words.

Perhaps the film’s most striking strength lies in the attachment Robin develops to the expressed milk. Beyond being a task that temporarily distracts her from depression, storing the milk be-comes a way to extend her connection to the lost child. It is a spontaneous, wordless therapeutic process through which Robin creates her own channel of communication. This makes the mo-ment when Robin hugs the bottles of milk especially poignant—a gesture that represents both a farewell to the past and to the future that could have been. The duality of this separation marks the culmination of a deeply moving story.

We may have heard similar stories before, but Stefanie Kolk, along with her protagonist, takes a deep breath, dives into the abyss of grief, and surfaces with a promising finale.