r Rose
Markus Schleinzer, Austria, Germany, 2026o
Amidst the turmoil of the Thirty Years’ War, a mysterious soldier arrives in a remote German village and claims to be the heir to an abandoned estate. Whilst he earns the villagers’ respect through hard work, there are increasing signs that he is harbouring secrets. Yet the newcomer remains undeterred and enters into an arranged marriage with the daughter of a wealthy farmer.
In Rose, Austrian filmmaker Markus Schleinzer combines two familiar cinematic motifs to create a compelling third. The first is the story of the returning soldier who, armed with a document of dubious provenance, takes possession of an abandoned estate and starts a new life. The other is that of a woman who dresses as a man in order to claim the privileges of a patriarchal society.
Here, Sandra Hüller (Anatomy of a Fall) plays just such a double “impostor” during the Thirty Years’ War — and takes the masquerade one step further. After the battle-scarred veteran earns the respect of the small village community through hard work and the cool-headed killing of a bear, he/she accepts a wealthy farmer’s proposal to marry his daughter. The precarious game of false identity — potentially lethal in the 17th century — is thus pushed so far that the main question becomes who will be the first to discover the woman behind the man: Rose’s unconsummated wife, her/his servants, the villagers? And what will happen when they do?
Schleinzer finds several ingenious ways of postponing the answer while raising the fundamental questions that come with it. Is Rose’s relatively “unmasterful” behaviour merely part of her disguise, or is it typically female? And might it even give rise to a kind of social utopia if those closest to Rose were to realise that an alliance with a secret woman could work to their advantage?
Needless to say, the outcome will not be revealed here. Nor is there anything particularly original in saying that Sandra Hüller thoroughly deserved her Silver Bear in Berlin for her utterly vanity-free embodiment of the protagonist. Cinephiles, meanwhile, will hardly be surprised that Schleinzer, an intellectual filmmaker who worked early in his career with both Ulrich Seidl (Rimini) and Michael Haneke (The White Ribbon), once again fascinates with his austere tone, sparse dialogue and, this time, crystalline black-and-white cinematography.
He may overplay his hand in the final act, adding an unexpected coda that creates some chronological confusion. But by then, he has long since won us over to his audacious undertaking.
Andreas Furler