Fresh Air - Broadway producer Jeffrey Seller, from ‘RENT’ to ‘Hamilton’

Episode Date: May 8, 2026

Broadway producer Jeffrey Seller played a key role in the production of RENT, Hamilton, In the Heights, Avenue Q, and the revival of Sondheim’s Sweeney Todd that starred Josh Groban. His memoir traced his path from ‘Theater Kid’ to producer of Broadway mega-hits. Also, film critic Justin Chang reviews ‘Silent Friend.’ See pcm.adswizz.com for information about our collection and use of personal data for sponsorship and to manage your podcast sponsorship preferences.NPR Privacy Policy

This is Fresh Air. I'm David B. In Cooley. The 2026 Tony Award nominees were announced this week, with numerous nominations for the musicals Lost Boys, Shmigadoon, and the revival of Ragtime. Our guest today was a key behind-the-scenes figure in two Broadway mega hits, Rent and Hamilton. Each won a Pulitzer Prize for Drama and multiple Tony Awards, including Best Musical. Our guest, Jeffrey Seller, produced Rent with his business partner. Sellar's own company produced Hamilton. He also was a producer of Lynn Manuel Miranda's first musical, In The Heights, as well as the satirical adult puppet musical, Avenue Q,

and the revival of Sondheim's Sweeney Todd, starring Josh Groban. You might assume, since his skills include raising money to produce shows, that he's from money. But he's most definitely not. His family was often broke or close to it. He grew up in a neighborhood outside Detroit that was nicknamed cardboard village because the houses were so cheap and shoddy. Seller is the author of the memoir, Theater Kid. After many stops along the way, he became a booker with the job of booking touring companies of popular musicals into theaters around the country.

That work led him where he always wanted to be, producing musicals. He also writes about coming out during the AIDS epidemic and how it wiped it. out so many people who created and performed in Broadway shows, as well as a significant part of the audience. Jeffrey Sellers spoke with Terry last June when his memoir was published. It's now in paperback. Jeffrey Sellar, welcome to fresh air. Well, since this is the 10th anniversary of Hamilton, congratulations of Hamilton opening on Broadway. Let's start there. You had already produced Rent and Lin-Manuel Miranda's first musical in The Heights. When you heard in the Heights, mix of rap and Broadway music, you felt a little out of your element because you hadn't followed

rap. Had you listened to a lot more rap by the time of Hamilton? No, I had, of course, become completely enamored with in the Heights. And, you know, that first time Lynn sang lights up on Washington Heights at the break of day, it was so warm. It was like this Caribbean water that's just enveloping me. And then when after that, the Broadway chorus came in with, In the Heights I wake up and start my day, my God, I already have the goosebumps. And in many ways, Hamilton was just Lynn's next musical. Okay, so since you mentioned in the Heights and that opening song, let's hear it.

That was Abuela. She's not really mine. but she practically raised me this corner is her Esquella now you probably thinking I'm up Creek I never been north of 96th Street well you must take the A train even farther the northern Manhattan and maintain get off at 181st and take the escalator I hope you're writing this down I'm gonna test you later I'm getting tested times a tough on this bodega two months ago somebody bought Ortega's our neighbors started

packing up and picking up and ever since the rents went up his got mad expensive, but we live with just enough. In the Heights, Lynn, the Lights and Start My Day. There are Whiteson and a day. But tonight the seas like a million. Next up to back. That's the opening of the Broadway musical in the Heights, Lindelman-Well Miranda's first musical,

produced by my guest, Jeffrey Seller. So Hamilton was supposed to be a record. That was the plan. It was going to be called the Hamilton mixtape. And you convinced her, convince Lynn that it should be a musical, not just a recording. How did you convince him? Well, I'm going to give real credit to that to his colleague, friend, and director, Thomas Kale. And Tommy had an idea, which is that if he could get Lynn to do a public cabaret performance

of just the songs, that would persuade him that this could be a musical. So in early 2012, they did like eight songs from Hamilton at Jazz at Lincoln Center. And it was so clear from that performance that this was a book musical, that after that I wrote a letter to both of them saying, if you want to get going on a musical, I want to be your producer, and I'll clear the decks, I'll be your cheerleader, I'll be your nurturer, I'll be your critic if you want to go. I had a new company at that point.

I named it Adventureland. and I said, let's go on this adventure together. And that was early 2012. So as the lead producer, what was your role? What was your job? Sometimes it was to make lunch. Like at one point, Lynn and Tommy and another writer we were considering working with came out to my house and they would work in the morning. I would make egg salad with my own mayonnaise that I had learned how to make from the New York Times cookbook and serve.

But what I mean by that is setting the table for them to do the great work and giving them that space and giving them that praise when it was necessary, giving them that reinforcement and encouragement when it's necessary. And then sometimes knowing when can I make a suggestion or not can I, sometimes knowing when is the right time to make a suggestion. or not can I, sometimes knowing when is the right time to make a suggestion. Tell us a suggestion you made that you think was really helpful. You know, in the case of Hamilton, I would say I made less suggestions than I ever had before. But, you know, one very important one was cutting the third rap battle in Act II. You know, we had not two rap battles, but we had three rap battles. You know, another situation was cutting the deer.

Theodosia reprise in Act 2. I also seem to remember talking deeply about how the set would be realized, which came later with David Corrin's and Thomas Kale. I also remember talking a lot about the staging of Washington on your side, which may not have been in its best form the first time they did it. Cutting. Why was cutting the rap battle and the Other song that you referred to, why was cutting them important? And why did you think they needed to be caught? How much can we as audience members take in? We are not equipped for three-hour musicals.

And our musical already had a first act that was an hour in 15 minutes. And believe it or not, the second act was even longer, which actually breaks the rule that Oscar Hammerstein, one said, which was that the first act is usually going to be twice as long as the second act, or let me put it another way, the second act is going to be half as long as the first act. And in our show, the second act was actually longer. And one of our jobs is to really try to feel how the audience is going to stay with the show through every moment of the show. And there's a moment where the audience, they can't take anymore. Where are we redundant?

Where are we in a situation where we can actually lose something? And in those instances I gave, and there were others in Act 2 as well, that we succeeded. What's the logic behind the second act being shorter than the first? Because we give our greatest amount of energy to the show for the first act. That's where you're establishing character, plot, the rising dramatic action, that big dramatic question. what is the major dramatic question. And then in Act 2, we just really want to see it resolved. And if you look at West Side Story,

that's a show that has a 90-minute first act and a 45-minute second act. Is there a particular song in Hamilton that when you first heard the music from it made you think, this is great? Well, Lynn shared with me the first songs probably around 2010 2010, 2011, and when I heard my shot for the first time, I was like, whoa.

Like if in the heights was this warm Caribbean embrace, my shot was lightning. It was a wallop. And I knew he was taking this form to a deeper place that had even more impact. And I knew he was on another creative tear. Well, let's hear a little bit of my shot. And of course, this is Lynn Manuel Miranda. I am not thrown away my shot. I am not thrown away my shot. And yo, I'm just like my country. I'm young, scrappy and hungry, and I'm not thrown away my shot. I'm a scholarship to King's College. I probably shouldn't brag with dag. I'm amazing astonish. The problem is I've got a lot of brains been old polish.

I got a hollologist to be heard with every word. I drop knowledge. I'm a diamond in the rough. A shining piece of coal Trying to reach my goal My power of speech Unimpeachable Only 19 but my mind is older These New York City streets get cold I shoulder

Every burden, every disadvantage I've learned to manage I don't have a gun to brandish I walk these streets Famish the plan is to fan Men to be A colony that runs independently Meanwhile British keep

It keeps on a sendlessly Essentially They tax us relentlessly Then King George turns around Runs a spending spree He ain't never gonna set His descendants free So there will be a revolution in this century.

And to me, he says in parentheses. Don't be shocked when your history book mentions me. I will lay down my life if it sets us free. That's Lynn Manuel Miranda from the original Broadway cast recording of Hamilton. And my guest was the lead producer of Hamilton, Jeffrey Seller. He has a new memoir called Theater Kid. Was it hard to convince backers to invest in Hamilton? Oh, gosh, no.

Hamilton had this incredible power to galvanize audiences almost within minutes of any performance starting. So when we started to share readings of Hamilton with people in the industry, they were going crazy for it. So I raised the money for Hamilton faster and easier than I had raised money for anything else before. Let's talk about Jonathan Larson and Rent. You went to a workshop of Larson's show that was in the works at the time, Tick-Dick-Boon, which at the time was called Boho Days. It was in the workshop process. It was an autobiographical, one-person show, and that person was Larson.

Describe what you initially saw and why you really identified with it. Oh, my gosh. you know up on that stage was just this piano bass drums guitar and out came this guy named jonathan who i'd never known in my life before you know he was tall and lanky and had curly brown hair and he just attacked this piano ferociously and he was singing these songs about turning 30 and how he had this um image or this sound that kept going off his head, tick, tick, boom. He thought he was going to explode because he was a writer of rock musicals that nobody wanted to produce. Because he lived in the fourth floor walk-up of an apartment down on Greenwich with a bathtub in the kitchen where all the roommates had to switch off on

who could use it at what time. He was an amazing performer and he was singing these songs through the most amazing rock music that was giving me goosebumps all over my arms. And you know, here was the question. Should he keep writing rock musicals that nobody wants to produce? Or should he take a job as an advertising copywriter where he'll finally have some money and get health insurance and a better apartment and maybe be able to go on a vacation? And what do I do? Do I sell out or do I keep pursuing my passion? And I thought, how is this guy telling my life story when I've never even met him before? because I felt exactly the same way as a 25-year-old booker who really wanted to be a producer. And his goal also was to write a show that spoke to his life and the people he knew and his generation. Did you identify with that goal?

Oh, my God. You know, Jonathan said about the shows that were happening in the late 80s into the early 90s, those aren't our characters. That's not our music. Those aren't our stories. And, you know, the first shows that made. something to me were like a chorus line, where I looked up on that stage. I'm a 14-year-old kid, and they're telling stories of their lives. It was a genuinely contemporary musical with a

sort of contemporary score. And that I knew right then and there. That's what I love. So when he said the shows on Broadway aren't telling our stories, what was on Broadway at the time? You had the four mega musicals from England. You had cats, Le Mizz, Phantom, and Saigon. And basically, that's it. Like, we were not making musicals during the 80s and the 90s on Broadway. I'll give you an example, Terry.

In 1995, the year before Rent, there were only two musicals nominated for Best Musical. One was Sunset Boulevard. Andrew Lloyd Weber's musical, and one was a show called Smokey Joe's Cafe that was a review of songs by Lieber and Stoller. So Sunset Boulevard actually won best score and best book by default. Two musicals. And that's where the industry was in the late 80s into the 90s. Why do you think that was true?

I think one big reason was AIDS. look at the number of artists we lost, Howard Ashman, Michael Bennett, and look at the artists we lost that we don't even know. And I think it was also about economics. And for some reason, Broadway was having a hard time attracting investment dollars in the 80s into the 90s. So you offered to produce Boho Days, decided to rename it Tick-Tick-Bomb, and you convinced Larson to do that. that. And in serendipity, you were getting fired from your booking job and the person you were working for said, your heart really isn't into this. You should just like leave and go produce. We're firing you. And as to he was firing you, Larson is returning a call.

Yes, it actually is true. And you couldn't take the call. So that seemed like real serendipity. Oh my gosh. And then, you know, you offered to to produce that first, well, really second show that he had written. And then you decided it wasn't really working. You had several problems with it. What were some of those problems? I couldn't raise the money. You know, in many ways, when we were working on that show, he had told me that he had shared it with Sondheim once. And I said, well, what did Sondheim say? He said, that show is just you whining about superbia. And in some ways... Superbia was the show he'd written before. That's correct. And, you know, those Listeners who remember the movie Tick-Tick-Bomb that Lynn Manuel directed with Andrew Garfield knows that they had done this big workshop of Superbia and nothing happened from it.

And when Jonathan calls his agent after Suburbia doesn't get picked up by any theater, she says, pick up your pencil and go back to work. So he writes Tick-Tick-Bum and Orbojo days. And in so many ways, it's his rant about not getting Superbia produced, at least according to Soporbiard. on time. And for me, it was a show about how do I stay true to my dreams without selling out? And guess what? Every theme, every motif that's in Tick, Tick, Boom, ultimately finds its way to the better show, and that's Rent. So how do you convince him to, like, stop writing Tick, boom and instead start writing what was his next idea, which is a musical, a contemporary musical, based on Puccina's opera La Bohem.

Yeah, early on in our professional friendship, he shared with me this idea that someone had given him to make a version of La Boeum that would take place in the East Village in which Mimi would have AIDS instead of tuberculosis. And I thought it was a genius idea from the moment he told me. So he was kind of working on two things at once. But the thing about Tick, tick, boom, was that if you took away all the other instruments and he was just at the piano and he was in a rehearsal room and doing it for a bunch of people that could be investors, it seemed, as he was getting older, it seemed to lose its luster. Like, I wonder if he had moved on himself emotionally, because at some point, as we were trying to get Tick, Tick, Boom, done,

it just sounded like a 30-year-old who's afraid he's never going to be successful. And I'm not sure audiences really are going to be that sympathetic to a 30-year-old who's already in despair that he's not going to be successful. Because most of us would say, well, get on with it. Broadway producer Jeffrey Seller speaking with Terry Gross last year. His memoir, Theater Kid, is now out in paperback. We'll hear more after a break. And Justin Chang will review the new film, Silent

friend. I'm David Bean Coolly, and this is fresh air. How do you deliver in inches In miles in laughter and stride 600 men Do you measure a year in the life? How do you deliver criticism to someone like Jonathan Larson without destroying him?

Oh Lord. Jonathan invited me to the first ever staged reading of Rent in the spring of 93. Stage reading means actors are reading and singing in front of music stands with the scripts in front of them.

And there may be a band or a piano and a drum. And I go down, it was at New York Theater Workshop. It was a hot day in June. And I actually had met this guy who wanted to be a producer and I knew came from a very wealthy family in Australia. So I thought, maybe if I bring this guy and he loves it, I can get him to invest. That guy leaves an intermission.

And the reading starts. with the song Rent, and it's like a wallop. It's great. But then immediately the show kind of disintegrates into all these different songs about Life in the East Village, and it really has no spine. It doesn't have a plot that's coming through yet. And that reading kind of drones on for almost three hours. It's like 90 degrees in there. And then this other guy who's there that I was with says, well, Jonathan's very talented, but he should just try something else. She should just work on something else. And then Jonathan calls me and says, okay, let's go to dinner. I want to hear what you think. So the first thing about criticism is don't offer it until you asked, right? You got to wait

until they say, what did you think? And sitting at Diane's hamburgers on the upper side when he said, what do you think? Then I really had to pause because I didn't want to hurt his feelings. And I was afraid that he might reject me. But you always start with praise. And I talked about how great that opening song Rent was. And I talked about how great the environment was. And he said, yeah, but what else? And that's when I said, I don't understand the story. I don't get the characters. Are you trying to write a play? Or are you trying to write a collage of life in the East Village? And he looked at me and he was like, no, I'm trying to write a play. And I said, well, then you have to bring forth. the story, because right now I'm not getting it.

So during the final dress rehearsal of rent, Jonathan Larson went home early, complaining of an upset stomach, a stomach ache, and by the next morning he was dead. And the day that he died, that was the day of the first preview that was scheduled of rent. What we know now is he died of a tear in his aorta, probably caused by Marfan syndrome, which is a genetic disease that weakens the body's connective tissue. First of all, he didn't have health insurance. If he had health insurance, do you think it might have been diagnosed and he might still be alive? He had visited two hospitals in the week before he ultimately died, and neither of them had diagnosed it properly. Had he had health insurance and a doctorate,

who was his personal advocate, would the outcome have been different? I don't know. But I know what it means to not have health insurance, and I know how scary that is. Yeah, because you went through a lot of your life without it. Yeah. So describe for us how you heard the news about Jonathan Larson's death and what that day was like for you, including deciding what to do that night, which was to be the night of the first stress rehearsal. I woke up that morning euphoric after the dress rehearsal. And I had given huge praise to Jonathan after the show saying, You did it. He made the show, it's great. He was happy to hear that praise,

and he described that he wasn't feeling well to me. But that morning after, so I woke up, I was like, you know, I was picking out what sweater do I want to wear tonight, What close? And after I went to my own therapy appointment, I took the R train to the office. And when I got there, everybody's head was down. And my own general manager said,

Jeffrey, I have something terrible to tell you. Jonathan Larson died last night. And I was in shock. And then I was immediately struck by the fact that holy he wrote his own life and he wrote his own death this is a man who wrote the

song for Roger one song glory one song before I go and I thought did he know he was going to die I thought did he know he was going to die I was maybe maybe I wasn't shocked

Maybe it all made its own dramatic sense, but I was sad and I was crushed. And I also somehow knew in that moment he would become a legend. Well, that's a very famous story now in Broadway history. What about deciding to go through with the dress rehearsal and what form? Yeah. You know, I was on the phone with Jim Nicola, the artistic director at New York Theater Workshop, And what he said is he was afraid that the kids in the show would not be safe to try to do all the complicated maneuvers,

choreography, staging, backstage and onstage, given this trauma that we had all just experienced. So they were going to do a reading of the show for family and friends of Jonathan. And in fact, that night, we all came into the theater, sat down, and they started doing the show, sitting at those famous silver metal tables that were the set of rent.

And it was so powerful hearing Adam Pascal sing one song, Glory. It was so powerful hearing Wilson Haredia sing, I'll cover you with Jesse Martin. And then by the end of the first act, when they were in the Life Cafe doing La Vie Boeem, there was just this moment that Daphne Rubin Vega,

who was playing Mimi, just got up on that table and she started dancing. And then Wilson Haredia as Angel got up and then Nodina got up. And then the entire cast did all the choreography on that table to La Viboum. And the first act ended with a sense of euphoria. I'm going to let you choose. What would you rather hear right now? Rent or One Song Glory?

Oh, Glory. Okay, here we go. One song, Glory. One song before I go, glory, one song to leave behind, find one song, one last refrain, glory from the pretty boy front man who wasted opportunity. One song, he had the world at his feet, glory in the eyes of a young. A young girl, a young girl, find glory beyond the cheap colored lights. One song before the sun sets glory on another empty life. Time flying.

That was Adam Pascal singing one song, Glory, from the original cast recording of Rent. So I think that Rent won the Pulitzer Prize at more or less the same time that Larson died, they're very close to each other. What was it like to go through the honor and the, I'm sure, like, normal feeling of jubilation having won a Pulitzer and at the same time still be grieving for Jonathan Larson? Oh, it was the best of times and worst of times because the show's success was potent and thrilling and changing my life. And yet I was also filled with the loss of Jonathan and I think a little bit of guilt that he didn't get to go with us because it was going to change his life. He had only just quit the Moon Dance Diner as a waiter two months before we started rehearsal. He still lived in that fourth floor walk-up, and he didn't get to enjoy all of that. And I felt badly, and I felt a little bit guilty.

Theater producer Jeffrey Seller speaking with Terry Gross. He was a producer of the mega hits Rent and Hamilton. More after a break, this is fresh air. Since you're a producer and part of your job is raising the money needed to produce the show and rent the theater. Like I said in the introduction, people might assume you came from money when the story is the opposite. So describe your neighborhood that was known as Cardboard Village. Okay. My father, who had inherited his family business, which was a tool business, bankrupted by overspend.

and through his own manic behavior. And then he was in a motorcycle accident on I-94 in between Detroit and Kalamazoo, which caused brain damage, ephasia, a kind of dementia, and disenabled him from working. Our family wound up on welfare, and we lost our nice house in our nice neighborhood.

And we had to move to this neighborhood that the kids called Cardboard Village because the houses were made of those shingham, those tar shingles instead of bricks. And instead of having basements, they were built on these 800 square foot slabs of concrete. You know, one teeny bathroom, maybe a carport, but certainly no garage.

And that was the neighborhood where I grew up ultimately. And no basement meant there was no place to shelter if there was a tornado. Yeah, so they would like tease you and say, you know, this is Michigan. So they tease you and say, how, you have nowhere to go. Where do you go if there's a tornado?

And I would go, I don't know. So then your father, because of his traumatic brain injury, he became a summons server, you know, serving papers. That's right. Summons, subpoenas, all the different court orders to people in trouble. Yeah, so he dealt with deadbeat dads, prospective divorces, delinquent mortgage holders. And when you were available, he'd take you with him. But it sounded like a terrifying experience because he was a reckless driver. and his way of serving papers was often very confrontational.

Like, there were incidents that really left you terrified. Would you describe one of them? Well, I have this, like, very strong memory of him like, come on, go serve papers with me. And I didn't want to. I didn't like it. I didn't like going to these neighborhoods that were far from our house and leaving, you know, the house. And but he wanted my company so badly. So I would say yes.

And I remember once going to this one neighborhood where, you know, the house doesn't look that different from ours. It actually might have been a little bigger. And he can't, like, he's banging on the door and no one's coming. And then finally this woman comes out. And she has like, you know, like, she's wearing like a T-shirt dress. And she's like kind of shaking her head, no, no, no, meaning like whoever he's looking for isn't here. And then from the other side of the house. house, this guy comes around and he starts trying to kind of run away. And my six foot three,

250 pound father starts chasing after him. And then he winds up seeing, you know, getting him on the sidewalk in front of the next door neighbor's house. And then the neighbor who's actually living in the house next door opens the door and says, leave him alone. And then my father serves him the paper. And then that guy screams to my father, get out of him. hear you pig and they used the F word. And then my father ran up and put his hand through his window. So, you know, during all of this, you fall in love with theater. And was theater for you the kind of place you wanted it to be for others? Like you leave life outside the theater door and you immerse yourself in the characters or in directing or producing the show. And that becomes your world

while you're in the theater. I guess it became the greatest new world I could have ever discovered. This world where we make plays and invent dialogue and create characters and build sets. And I took it very seriously. And I was incredibly rewarded by the audience reactions. Yeah, because you started off acting. Sure. And then I love this story. You were in a play called Popcorn Pete.

It was a school play, right? It was the community, it was the youth theater play, yeah. Right, right. There was the youth theater play from a local theater company that was an adult company, but they had a kids part. Correct. And it didn't do well. You know, the theater was half-filled, and you decided it's because, like, it's not a good play. It's not a good title.

Why would anybody come? And so you asked to be on the committee that chooses the plays that the kids perform. And in a way like, that's your first time you were a producer, and you were how old? 13 years old. Yeah, and you had to convince the adults that you were worthy of being on the committee. So was that a very empowering feeling, like helping to choose the plays? Well, that was the first step I took toward becoming a producer, because you know what the most important decision I ever make is as a producer? What play to produce?

And is that a reflection of my aesthetic, my values, my likes, the character? that I care about. So that was a huge moment for me. And I want to also say at the time, I didn't even know it. I just knew we could do better. And I started reading plays every weekend. I would read all these different plays. And that's where I started to learn what makes a good play and a bad play.

One last question. Do you see Broadway is headed in a particular direction? Do you see any interesting risks being taken now? The one thing that I look back on with Jonathan and his goals to write stories about our characters, our stories, our music, is that that value started with rent, and it continued on from Avenue Q and in the Heights to Hamilton, but it also continued on through so many other shows that I didn't produce, like the Pulitzer Prize winning next to normal, or, dear Evan Hanson. And even in its own fun way, maybe happy ending, which is now about two robots who fall in love. So what I look at Broadway and I see all these contemporary musicals, I say, bless you, Jonathan, because every single one of these musicals is standing on his shoulders in some way, shape, or form. And I think if we keep making musicals about who we are today,

and by the way, Hamilton does that too, even though it's telling a story that's 200, and 50 years old. So if we keep making those musicals, I think we're going to be in great shape. Jeffrey, it's been great to talk with you. Thank you so much. It's just been a pleasure. Thank you so much.

It's been my great, great delight and pleasure. Broadway producer Jeffrey Seller, speaking to Terry Gross last year. His memoir, Theater Kid, is now out in paperback. Coming up, Justin Chang reviews the new film, Silent Friend. This is Friends.

Our film critic Justin Chang recommends the new art house drama Silent Friend from the Hungarian writer-director Ildecoe in Yeti. He says it's a beguiling century-spanning film about humanity's relationship with the plant world. It features a cast that includes such international stars as Tony Lung and Leia Sedoux. It opens in select theaters this week. Here is Justin's review. Some movies will forever change the way you look at plants. Unsurprisingly, many of them are thrillers in science fiction films, like Little Shop of Horrors, the Day of the Triffids,

or more recently, the mind-controlling flower freak-out little Joe. You could probably make a more sinister version of the new drama, Silent Friend, which dares to suggest that the tree outside your door, or the geranium on your windowsill, might be studying you intently. and might even reach out if it could and tell you what it's thinking. But the Hungarian filmmaker Ildico Enjedi isn't interested in scaring us. She wants us to leave this movie feeling more connected to the natural world. Silent Friend tells three separate stories,

all set in different periods across more than a century, but rooted in the same location, the University of Marburg in Germany. First we meet a neuroscientist named Tony, played by the Hong Kong star Tony Lung Chouai, who's visiting the school as a guest researcher. It's 2020, and when COVID hits, Tony is left stranded on a near-empty campus. Bored and lonely, he stumbles on some online videos,

featuring a French botanist, Alice, played by Le Cé-Dou, and is captivated by her theory that plants have a highly developed consciousness. Inspired, Tony plans an experiment and gets in touch with Alice via Zoom to ask for her guidance. Would you supervise me? I know it is quite arrogant of me. I'm a total amateur in your field, not even an amateur. What I want to test is not so complex, just as you said in your talk, what if they observe us the same way we observe them? To try to create a question. To try to a back and forth between... Are you in Hong Kong?

Can you enter the university lab? Oh no. You will need some equipment. I'm stuck on an empty campus somewhere in Germany. I see. I'm also stuck but at home with a three-year-old. I'm flipping out for not being able to work. We had to close down everything.

I'm not even supposed to be here. I sneaked in to check on an experiment. Actually, I have to go to the greenhouse. house. It is not fully clear to me what your goal is, but let's see. Tony's experiment involves attaching electronic sensors to the leaves and trunk of a nearly 200-year-old Ginko Boloba tree, and studying the resulting data to see what, if anything, the plant might be trying to communicate. In a way, this tree is the true protagonist of Silent Friend. It's the only character old enough to appear in all three time frames. In the earliest story, set in 1908, an aspiring botanist named Greta,

played by Luna Vedler, becomes the first female student admitted to the university. As she pursues her studies, she trains to become a photographer and develops a deeper aesthetic appreciation of the flowers, fruits, and vegetables that she often finds herself shooting. The third story is said in 1972. A young man named Hannes, played by Enzo Broome, is tasked with looking after his roommates prized geranium. In a primitive early version of Tony's 2020 experiment, Hanis finds himself studying and decoding the flower's responses to stimuli. The film cuts vigorously among these three stories, wrapping them around each other like vines. There's no danger of getting lost, though, since each era has its own distinct visual. style, black and white film for the early 20th century, warm, grainy color film for the 70s,

and cool, high-deaf digital for 2020. Every era, and yet he seems to be saying, has its own technological advancements. Every era also has its own political pressures. In all three stories, the university is a place where human progress is both nurtured and threatened. Tony has to deal with pandemic isolation and paranoid campus staff. Greta must endure the profound condescension of her all-male professors and peers. And Hannes finds that even the Let It All Hangout Spirit of the 70s can be unexpectedly stifling.

And yet he loves telling tales about misfits and underdogs and infuses them with a magical sense of possibility. In 2017, she directed the Oscar-nominated romance on Body and Soul, about two slaughterhouse workers who start seeing each other in their dreams. Now, in Silent Friend, she gives us three distinct characters, all outsiders in one way or another, and all of whom use science to push beyond what can be strictly observed. As wonderful as her three human leads are,

especially Lung, who's as mesmerizing as ever in his first big European production, the filmmaker encourages us to consider a plant, point of view. She sometimes frames the actors from high above, as if the camera were perched on a branch over their heads. In one scene, Greta enjoys a cigarette break under the Ginkobeloba tree, and we see close-ups of a leaf withering on contact with the smoke. It takes patience to see things from this perspective, to appreciate the vulnerability and beauty of a germinating seed, a budding flower, or a head of broccoli. If you let it, Silent Friend will gently open your eyes to that beauty.

Justin Chang is a film critic for The New Yorker. He reviewed Silent Friend, now playing in select theaters. On Monday's show, actor Will Sharp, he was nominated for an Emmy for his portrayal of Ethan, a tech entrepreneur in season two of White Lotus. He's also starred in the TV show Too Much and the film A Real Pain. Now he stars as Lerner, Wolfgang Amadeus Mozart in a new adaptation of Amadeus.

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