On view at the Berlinale: ‘Rose’ by Markus Schleinzer

Markus Schleinzer Rosea unique historical fiction, it doesn’t so much transport you into the past as bring you to the edge of the light curtain that often obscures history when you look at it. The stark monochrome drama follows a 17th-century woman who pretends to be a man—that’s the name used by the characters and the gentle narrator (Marisa Growaldt)—but whose underlying emotional machinery is distinctly different. This raises the question of what the movie is about and what the movie is really about, but that important problem is centered around a great, compelling, brilliantly crafted story of a man whose critical freedom hangs on a knife’s edge, resulting in Sandra Hüller being awarded the Berlinale’s Silver Bear for best performance since winning the second prize— The Requiem in 2006.

Somewhere in Germany during the Thirty Years’ War, a scarred soldier named Rose (Hüller) inherits a farm by pretending to be a fallen comrade and builds a house—luxury reserved only for men. The narrative sets the boundaries of the story: that of a woman masquerading as a man as she tries to live outside the boundaries of misogyny. History is full of women who wear pants to escape patriarchal norms, but also transgender men who may have been given the term in times and places where there was no such transgender language. But no matter how a modern audience interprets the story, its narrative aligns—often deliberately—with that of the conservative Protestant citizens from whom Rose must hide her identity.

It’s not so difficult at first as he lives alone, surrounded only by servants and farm workers who have separate houses, although out of caution, he still sleeps in a horizontal closet. However, it wasn’t long before a neighboring farmer offered her his daughter’s hand in marriage, an offer Rose couldn’t satisfactorily refuse. When the bride arrives—the young, homesick Suzanna (Caro Braun)—her daily routine becomes a fascinating thread of deception.

Indeed, injecting the themes of trans identity into a story that seems to be trans identity, even in its subtext, comes with current concerns, given the dangerous perceptions of people trying to deceive who may search or force their way into bathrooms under false pretenses, often resulting in actual violence against them. Although the filmmakers might not think so Rose as a transgender story, it speaks the same language, and Hüller seems to approach it with a gray area in mind (in an interview at the Berlinale, the actor talked about taking inspiration Albert Nobbsa 2011 drama in which Glenn Close’s eponymous character walks the same line). But whenever Rose viewed on their own—a lens that is ultimately justified by some fascinating, controversial conversations about the character’s past—the film’s discomfort with contemporary issues becomes a central part of its text. First, Rose maintaining her facade of what she thinks is a secret is a matter of basic survival rather than deception. On the other hand, when the minor characters become suspicious, their intense focus on her genitalia as proof of her lived reality cannot help but reflect a hostile pushback against modern freedom.

However, even if one were to accept the simpler, or less controversial, form of the story, that is, the fable of a woman posing as a male soldier, this would have given Hüller a full range of impressive work. There is a range at first of Rose’s careful, firm gestures, not to mention her short tempers and vocal conflicts, which may at first read to modern viewers as overtly sexist. However, hidden in this notion of masculinity in society is an attractive reality. The more time we spend watching Rose, the more difficult it becomes to interpret her broad-shouldered intensity, which is matched by the meticulous compositions of cinematographer Gerald Kerkletz, as nothing more than a product of deep fear rather than cunning.

Hüller, under his limited artificial holes and face, reveals Rose’s mysteries and worries, such as repeatedly chewing on a flat bullet that injured his cheek, which he keeps close, tied around his neck. Death and pain are never far from his mind or body. The way he enjoys suggestions that he doesn’t like or endanger his secrets, or the way he loses his temper with Suzanna even behind closed doors, can be traced to his great need to protect himself. It’s a great piece of work—not pretentiously but because of its emotional honesty. Although it goes without saying: Braun’s performance as Suzanna, a self-absorbed woman slowly coming out of her shell, is captivating and offers Rose a complex opportunity for something like sincere friendship as well as true freedom, in whatever way that may be for her.

The looming questions of trans-ness are answered and contested by the text in equal measure, although the approach to each instance is key to how the film can be read. Rose says, for a moment, that she didn’t mean to be a man, but the details of who she admits this to, and why, make her an unreliable narrator (again, it all comes back to her controlling sense of survival). The only time the question is clearly answered comes from the narrator, who suggests that Rose began experimenting with male clothing from a young age. Who, here, is to be believed, and what are the fundamental implications of this assertion both in the contemporary context and in history? Well, that’s a question we have to face, but the movie makes deciding this with any certainty difficult. Even the story’s narrator’s point of view feels incomplete, because he never mentions the male name that Rose gives to other people—something that may, the film eventually suggests, be lost in the pages of history and Rose’s own narrative.

Whether Rose is a trans man trying to live authentically or a woman trying to escape oppression, the brutality implied and obvious when she’s found—and seen as a woman trying to establish her place in the world—is always troubling during the credits roll. This is what you do in the end Rose it is very interesting and what helps to present Hüller’s performance in the midst of an all-encompassing drama. Although there’s a lot we don’t know about the character, given the distance at which she’s presented—usually, we can only see this in what she says to other people and what’s said about her—the care and intimacy that Schleinzer shows Rose makes her uniquely endearing. He is a character whose desires conflict with the basic tenets of traditional cinema. He only wants to combine ordinary and unremarkable things, but the action around him repeatedly forces him to be brave and independent.

In just 93 minutes, Rose it creates a world that straddles the margins of history, demanding that it be read against the dusty record of history where we might express our modern understanding of social norms and perhaps fight against them, to say nothing of audiences who might relate to the story. No matter what form the hero takes, the villains—those with brutal violence who come dressed in the garb of religious conservatives—remain a terrifying echo of history. The result, in the end, is an interesting drama that will make you angry for the right reasons if you let it.

More on movie reviews