What's the experience of one woman's grief to her sister's stillbirth?

Gentle is a slow exhale of grief wrapped in memory and the unspoken language passed between women. Crafted with rare emotional intelligence, the film moves like a memoir, soft and out-of-sync in ways that feel wholly intentional, mirroring how our minds remember, fragmented, faded, and painfully clear in the strangest moments.

The direction by Alex Naghavi honors Sara Decou’s poetic script with careful restraint. Nothing is rushed. Every shot feels like it’s holding something: a memory, a weight, a truth too delicate to say aloud. It’s a film that trusts its audience to sit in the ache, to hear what isn’t said.

What it offers is something rare: space. Space to feel, to relate, to remember your own losses quietly. It doesn't demand emotion; it earns it.