Wat we achterlaten [The Things We Leave Behind] (2025) – 4 stars

Director: May Bresser

Writer: May Bresser

Cast: Sophie Anne Timman & Kiki Mettler

Running time: 15mins

I spent the first 26 years of my life in Norfolk, before abruptly upping sticks in early 2017. I’d just run an extremely expensive, extremely poorly attended film festival – and paying off the associated debts required either working night shifts at a mental health home, or crawling back to an earlier role at an insurance call centre. Those are valid forms of work, but I just felt the ground shifting beneath me, and realised it was time to risk something new.

So, I packed off to Amsterdam, gambling on finding more fulfilling work (and a rat-free apartment) before the Brexit doors slammed shut, or I ran out of money for hostels. In retrospect, it was an utterly insane thing to have done, but by the seat of my pants, I just about managed it. It wasn’t until the dust settled that I really had chance to stop and think about everything else though. I was suddenly cut off from my friends and family like never before.

Keeping in touch with my family has never been hard – but it was a stress-test that saw me lose touch completely with some of my closest friends, and while I had to get on with life, that ate away at the back of my mind. There were always nagging thoughts; accusatory jabs from my super ego, I had abandoned people who trusted me, and would not, could not be forgiven. But as time went by, I am blessed to say that they came back into my life. And while they were understandably not thrilled that I had left, they understood why I made the leap that I did. And when we have met since, the years roll back, while the hours conversely fly by – as we make up for lost time, and recapture a little of the old magic.

I bring all of this up, because today’s film provided me a space to reflect on the experience, and to appreciate what I still have in my friends, whichever countries we are in. The first thing I did when I finished watching Wat we achterlaten (English title: The Things We Leave Behind) was to text two of my oldest friends encouraging them to come and visit. I can’t think of a better recommendation for a film telling this kind of story.

Then again, that’s not the kind of thing you can really put on a poster, or in a trailer, so I had better talk through some of the film’s brightest features in this accomplished student production. Director May Bresser’s script is undoubtedly among those; handling a gradual shift of tone from jaunty road trip, to an emotionally fraught farewell effortlessly.

The story follows the guarded and careful Iris (Kiki Mettler), as she takes a trip across the Netherlands with Mila (Sophie Anne Timman), her free-spirited childhood friend. The two roles are written well enough that neither comes across as a caricature – while they are different personalities, both still have room to show emotional complexity; in Iris’ case, a willingness to indulge in childhood traditions however much she feels the pressure to ‘grow up’; for Mila, as playful and energetic as she is, she is by no means childish – she has the emotional intelligence both to recognise the same pressures as Iris, and to support her friend when a dream opportunity arrives.

As mentioned, this is a goodbye, of sorts. As the journey progresses, Iris vaguely divulges she has a new job – before Mila discovers it just so happens to be on the other side of the Atlantic. But when things come to a head, and the whole truth comes out, the pair reach a tearful agreement that is both honest, and wholesome. Time and space might change them, but they will always be there for each other.

The performances of Timman and Mettler must also be commended here. Because both are expected to run the emotional gamut by the end of the story – but neither succumb to the need to resort to melodrama to showcase this range. They imbue their characters with subtlety and restraint, even in moments where they are at their rawest, meaning the highs, lows and idiosyncrasies of their on-screen relationship have weight, and authenticity at all times.

But I would also like to sing the praises of Mika Köhler’s cinematography here. Because it weaves the core themes of the story through all of the visuals. In the first half, where childish fancy is regularly used to paper over the cracks of a sad reality, it is – in the best possible way – all over the place. The camera is imbued with a frenetic intent, apparently desperate to show every trick of the trade picked up at film school: framed through other objects; popping out of the car trunk, and even (with the help of drone operator Justin Huveneers) taking to the skies.

All of these elements are executed superbly, but as we are bombarded with all this creative imagery, we feel the crisis at the heart of a story. As much as we are bid to look over there, we always come back to shots of Iris, with a thousand-mile stare, and the feeling that something badly needs to be addressed. And as that crisis comes to a head in the film’s final act, Köhler’s cinematography noticeably slows: it mellows, and matures, as the characters make peace with the fructuous and uncertain moment which they find themselves in. As we finally find the time to sit with them in this peace, we can make the most of a bitter-sweet moment, in which we draw on moments from our own lives, and empathise with the realisation that we do get to choose and maintain our friends – but not always our proximity to them.

The trappings of life, work, and sheer happenstance will mean that we drift apart – sometimes emotionally, sometimes geographically. But we can still love and support each other, however many years and miles down the line we find ourselves. The moments of reunion, where we recapture the joyous magic from our earlier lives, are all the sweeter for that.

I might have liked a bit more of an exploration of what both friends genuinely hoped for in the future. And a little more explanation of exactly what the pressures are that they both feel more acutely, as they stand on the precipice of full adulthood. But less being more generally works for the plot, anyway, as it gives more time and space for the central relationship of these two friends to shine through. In the end, the film has left me thoughtful, and thankful for the friends I know I can still count on, on the other side of the sea – and I am confident it will have the same wonderful impact on audiences as it graces the film festival circuit.