Ten years after her last feature, Past Imperfect, Belgian filmmaker Nathalie Teirlinck returns with Jonah Was Here, which celebrated its world premiere in the Gala & Specials section of the 53rd Film Fest Gent. As with that earlier work, Teirlinck has crafted a film that flows calmly at times, and at times in sharp surges, much like grief itself. From its first scene, in which well-meaning condolences range from a whale-song DVD to an offer to mow the lawn, she lays bare how mourning is culturally structured and how mourning parents are often treated: infantilised and patronised, but ultimately left alone.

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Jonah Was Here centres on Koen De Bouw as Bob, a grief-stricken father who decides, after the sudden death of his son Jonah, to move into his student flat to feel closer to him, to the dismay of Jonah’s mother Mireille (Monic Hendrickx), who copes by immersing herself in death-related bureaucracy. In the residence, Bob meets Matt (Willem Loobuyck), a friend of Jonah's, who helps him piece together his son's life from the things left behind in the cocoon of grief that is the small room. This is how Bob learns that Jonah had feelings for a colleague from the Bowling Bar, and befriends the woman he believes to be that colleague, single mother Claire (Maaike Neuville), and her young son Sem (Cem Yayla). Thus, Bob joins them in the search for their missing dog, Laika.

Teirlinck and her co screenwriter Angelo Tijssens are less interested in why Jonah died than in the different shapes grief can take after such an event: Bob tries to close the distance by moving into his son's room; Mireille, his ex-wife, dives into the paperwork; Sem conjures his missing dog Laika as an invisible companion, a projection of loyalty that refuses to end. There is nothing extraordinary about the way Jonah died. No accident, no illness, no violent event – just a heart which simply stopped beating. And yet, such a quiet death can tear an extraordinary rift in the hearts of those left behind. There is a particular, private expression of grief in Matt’s continuing to call a number that is no longer answered.

The search for Laika gives this scattered mourning a gentle direction. For Bob, Claire and Sem, it is a shared reason to keep caring for another living being. And while Bob tries to piece together Jonah's life despite the fact that not all the pieces fit, he ends up piecing himself back together. Koen De Bouw carries the bigger part of the story on his shoulders, portraying Bob with remarkable nuance, vulnerability and depth.

The protagonist’s inner journey is reflected in the film's visual language. It uses colour in a soft, almost fairytale-like way, moving between warm, gentle tones – soft pinks and ambers – that give the interiors an intimate glow, and the cold neon of the outside world. That contrast mirrors Bob's emotional state: the warmth evokes his longing for closeness and belonging, while the colder tones reflect the loneliness of his grief.

Jonah Was Here was produced by De Wereldvrede, in co-production with Savage Film, Frakas Productions and Volya Films.