Losing someone you love is always an unbearable pain—like a shattered heart that no number of stitches can truly mend. Time may soften the sharpness, but it never truly erases the ache. As humans, we are gifted with the ability to speak, to express our sorrow, to lean on others in moments of despair. But what about animals? What happens when their human leaves and never returns? Can we see their heartbreak in their eyes, in their stillness, in their silent yearning?
In The Friend, based on the acclaimed novel by Sigrid Nunez and directed by Scott McGehee and David Siegel, we witness a poignant tale of love, loss, and unexpected companionship. Iris (Naomi Watts), a solitary woman in New York, shared a deeply personal and complex bond with her friend Walter (Bill Murray). When Walter dies by suicide, he leaves behind not only a trail of literary brilliance and unresolved relationships—but also his Great Dane, Apollo.
Iris, who has never been fond of dogs and lives in a building that forbids them, suddenly finds herself in possession of more than just a pet. Apollo is mourning, deeply and silently. He clings to Walter’s old shirt, still soaked in his scent, unwilling to let go. At first, Iris only intends to care for him temporarily, but as days pass, something shifts. Grief, which had isolated them both, becomes a bridge—a language they share without words.
Naomi Watts delivers a performance filled with quiet strength and aching vulnerability. Her interactions with Apollo are profoundly moving, grounded in truth and unforced emotion. Despite an impressive supporting cast—Noma Dumezweni, Sarah Pidgeon, Carla Gugino, and Constance Wu—it’s the understated chemistry between Watts and Apollo that becomes the film’s soul. And in a few brief but unforgettable scenes, Bill Murray reminds us of his brilliance, portraying Walter with tragic grace and haunting warmth.
The Friend delicately explores the grieving process not only in humans but in the animals we often overlook in moments of mourning. It paints a tender portrait of a dog who cannot speak but still feels—who aches, remembers, and waits. Through Iris and Apollo’s shared loss, we are reminded that healing doesn’t come from forgetting, but from embracing the pain and learning to live alongside it.
In the end, The Friend is a powerful meditation on love that doesn’t end with death, on connections that transcend words, and on the silent suffering of those who cannot tell us they are hurting. It is a call to listen—to feel—and to understand that sometimes, the most profound healing begins when we simply sit with another soul and say nothing at all.
