Soup cinema is having a big year. From the locally sourced udon noodle soup in Hamaguchi’s Evil Does Not Exist, to the sumptuous, bread bowl-encased stew in Hùng’s The Pot-au-Feu, liquid dishes have been prominent in helping shape 2023’s best stories, helping enrich and reflect film characters and the contexts in which they exist.

Now, consider the latest ladle-ing from Belgian director Bas Devos. His modest and homegrown effort Here—which, like the previous films mentioned, also screened at VIFF—hinges on soup being a major plot device. Here is not a film about soup, per se, but the soup featured does serve as impetus, and maybe even as symbolic of some of the broader themes. 

A small, pensive, and, sure, let’s call it a “soupy” sort of film (there is a tone of dreaminess that pervades), Here follows amicable Romanian construction worker Stefan (Stefan Gota) as he prepares to leave Brussels and return to his homeland. Part of this process sees him channel the outstanding contents of his fridge into a hearty vegetable soup, which he resolves to distribute to the friends and family members he will leave behind in Brussels. This sends him on a humble odyssey of reflection and reconnection, also opening the potential for new relationships and revelations. Also in the mix—initially via voiceover, but later on screen—is Shuxiu (Liyo Gong), a studious Chinese-Belgian botanist committed to better understanding the moss and lichen species that thrive around her (Devos’ Brussels has an infrastructure that threads almost intrinsically the concrete, man-made world with the lush, natural world).

Stefan and Shuxiu, our movie and soup-pilled minds tell us, are fated to stir-it-up in this “here”—this here and now presented in Devos’ poetically parsed out imagining of Brussels—but the question this film poses seems less concerned with the will-they-won’t-they of the scenario, and more concerned with what “here” actually means to the characters. Devos’ film could be called a will-they-WHERE-they story, with the answer to “where” being “here,” but “here” being as mercurial and sometimes even as vague as the deictic expression suggests.

For example, neither Stefan nor Shuxiu are native to the “here” of Brussels. They are both immigrants, and thus carry with them feelings of displacement. Stefan’s behaviour can sometimes hint at this anxiety—for example, it’s not clear whether he intends to return to Romania for the summer, or for good—but Devos works sensitively, and to imbue dignity. In Here, characters are like moss as described by Shuxiu: descended from lineages that have existed longer than you can imagine; able to grow and thrive anywhere they are carried. Even the temporal “here” of Devos’ film is mystified, as in the scene where a relative of Stefan (Teodor Corban) recalls his experience of being anesthetized for surgery, and having visions of family members long deceased.

Stefan’s soup acts as catalyst for many of these affecting moments. Though it is a simple dish incorporating ordinary ingredients, it holds unexpected depth, and serves as a communion point for souls seeking nourishment. I’m trying to not be hackneyed and reductive with this review, but Here the film really does function in the same way. From the 16mm photography, to the use of natural light, to the seldom heard score of tenderly plucked guitar strings, Devos’ minimalist composition makes purposeful use of its few ingredients, combining them to achieve something harmonious and of rich substance. And like the best soups, Here is a film that takes its time, lets its components simmer and comingle, develop their depth at a pace that feels natural.

While some of what is presented in Devos’ film is clearly intended to be enigmatic, nothing tries to disquiet. A warm, benevolent aura of magic prevails here, one intended to soothe its characters, help illuminate the simple comforts defining the “here” that pertains to them. Its gentle unraveling of its setting also befits a meditative journey inward—like a soup, warming you from the inside out.