Rose is the cinematic equivalent of a Baumkuchen (German Tree Cake). Every fine layer of Schleinzer’s film is complex and expertly crafted, from the humour that occasionally cuts through the darkness, to the moments of silence where a look says everything, through to sudden jolts of anger and emotion as this folk tragedy unfolds.
Eight years after bringing us Angelo, Austrian writer-director Markus Schleinzer has returned with a haunting folk tale in which historical and contemporary discussions of gender identity merge as we join ‘Rose’, whose adopted name is never mentioned, played by Sandra Hüller. An embattled soldier returning from war, with deep scars and a right to claim an abandoned farm in 17th-century Germany, Rose is an enigma: a traveller seeking a new life.
The farm Rose seeks to claim sits in a small Protestant village where outsiders are rarely welcome, and suspicion lurks around every corner. It’s that suspicion that initially greets our war-torn soldier as they state their claim. Despite the village’s conservatism, it’s clear that this mysterious traveller does indeed lay claim to the farm and land that have been unworked for years. Therefore, the villagers welcome a new master, even if they do not yet trust them.
They say trust is earned, and it’s not long before Rose has earned it as they kill a bear that has mauled one of the young male villagers during a fierce storm. Now Rose isn’t just an elusive, mysterious visitor; they are a part of village life, and therefore required to marry and produce offspring. That village demand leads Rose to marry Suzanna (Caro Braun), a young woman who, like Rose, holds secrets. But it’s Rose’s secret that could bring their security and comfort crashing down. For Rose isn’t the man they wish to be seen as, Rose is biologically female, and maintaining their chosen gender identity is about to become more challenging as the tight net of village life threatens to ensnare them, Suzanna and the farm.
Concealing their gender beneath rugged clothes, Rose doesn’t need to employ further masculine traits because their gender identity is accepted through trust, not image. It’s a trust built on their employment of locals, their willingness to put themselves in harm’s way for the village’s security, their quiet, calm, yet assured presence, and their confidence in understanding the male role in this tiny village.
Bringing this performance to life is Sandra Hüller, who is nothing short of exceptional. Hüller’s Rose is restrained, proud, and quietly confident, yet fear and uncertainty bubble beneath the surface of every interaction and discussion. There are moments when this fear becomes panic, such as when Rose needs to procreate. Yet even then, Hüller’s Rose maintains a clear head as they navigate a solution. Hüller is undeniably one of the finest actors out there, and she commands every second she is on screen in this atmospheric and attentive folk tale.
Hüller’s outstanding, layered, and delicate performance is accompanied by the brilliant Caro Braun and an ensemble that brings 17th-century rural Germany to life in exquisite detail. Here, Schleinzer’s ability to create an atmosphere that envelops the audience is assured throughout. Beautifully photographed by Gerald Kerkletz and featuring a stirring score by Tara Nome Doyle, Rose is the cinematic equivalent of a Baumkuchen (German Tree Cake). Every fine layer of Schleinzer’s film is complex and expertly crafted, from the humour that occasionally cuts through the darkness, to the moments of silence where a look says everything, through to sudden jolts of anger and emotion as this folk tragedy unfolds.
When that tragedy arrives, it is haunting in its power and emotion, as Schleinzer’s historical tale suddenly adopts a sharp contemporary edge. One where villagers could easily be replaced by social media trolls, and the village leaders by modern-day campaigners who believe they and they alone understand sex and gender. Elements of this final act reminded me of the death of the famous jazz musician Billy Tipton, who lived as a man all his life and only after death found his name dragged through a media circus when it was discovered that Billy had female genitalia. But here, Rose is very much alive as their secret is discovered and they are surrounded by a deadly circus demanding justice.
Schleinzer never needs to fully explain Rose’s choices and behaviours, for their defiance of gender roles is wrapped in a desire for freedom in a world that denies those freedoms based on sex and identity. One is left contemplating whether we have really moved on from the mob mentality, gender control, or the public obsession with another person’s genitals that Rose encounters in 17th-century Germany. For me, despite much progress, I fear the answer remains no.
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