QUICK’N DIRTY: LIVE FROM BERLIN
The action takes place somewhere in rural Germany during the Early Modern age. Woman soldier Rose (Sandra Hüller) is scarred by war: a bullet leaves her left eye and cheek permanently droopy. She assumes the identity and the heritage of a fallen male combatant in order to obtain social stature and financial stability. Pressurised to produce an heir, she marries a “god-fearing” Suzanna (Caro Braun). She does her utmost in order to conceal her biological sex from her wife, to the point of feigning penetration with a strange strap-on (the nature and the real purpose of the object are revealed in one of the movie’s final scenes).
Surprisingly to Rose, Suzanna indeed gets pregnant. She gives birth, convinced that Rose is the father of the healthy baby boy. This is no miraculous conception. While never explicitly stated, it is implied that Suzanne got pregnant from an extra-marital relationship (with a biologically male husband). Such confusion is guaranteed to elicit some laughter from the audience, even if Rose is neither structured nor marketed as a comedy. Suzanna eventually discovers that Rose is a man. Instead of denouncing her, the two women bond in sorority. Suzanna helps Rose to plan her escape once the numerous estate labourers begin to suspect that something smells fishy.
Rose never reveals her real name to Suzanne, lest one day she forgets and accidentally uses it in front of others (thus exposing her secret). The creators of Rose do precisely the same with their protagonist, only the other way around. Director/writer Markus Schleinzer and co-writer Alexander Brom never reveal Rose’s male name, presumably out of respect for her female integrity. Rose never set out to be a man. Instead, she envied the opportunities and the privileges granted upon males. Rose is not a feminist movie. This is a very peculiar tale of accidental female empowerment. It offers valuable insight into the oppressive gender machinations of the past, without making any fiery and resolute emancipation statements.
This 93-minute drama is entirely filmed in black-and-white and in sharp contrast. The elegant cinematography evokes a time when strict doctrine prevailed, and a woman’s life was intended to remain colourless. Despite the accomplished aesthetic, the interesting premise and a very strong ending, Rose does not fulfil its creative ambitions in their entirety. The dialogue and the developments remain subordinate to the accomplished visuals, at times preventing actors from delivering their best. Artistic rigidness cripples some of the performances.
The music score – microbeats combined with humming and faint choir singing – becomes annoying and repetitive, imbuing the movie with an unwarranted ethereality. Narrator (Marisa Growaldt) has the intonation of a primary school teacher, disconnected from the story’s sombre mood. Perhaps more seriously, the desire to cast Germany’s most sought-after – and indeed extremely talented – actress in the lead overlooked the fact that Hüller neither looks nor sounds like a man. Her raised voice and screaming are remarkably feminine. It is not conceivable that it would take so long for any of the manifold characters to question her sex.
This is a very fitting companion piece to Veronika Franz and Severin Fiala’s The Devil’s Bath, which showed in the same competitive strand two years ago. Both films are based on multiple court files in Germany and Austria a few centuries ago. Women who dared to confront the establishment in a very unorthodox way. The two movies have a similar denouement, too. The takeaway is neither comforting nor enlightening. The 2026 film, however entertaining, does not reach the same heights as its informal predecessor.
Rose just premiered in the Official Competition of the 76th Berlinale.
