Between gender exploration and the quest for identity.
The latest film from Austrian director Markus Schleinzer premiered at the 76th Berlinale, giving the audience the first great film of the year, and Sandra Hüller a Silver Bear for Leading Performance.
Rose is the true story tale of a mysterious 17th-century German soldier, who we encounter after the Thirty Years' War. Presenting himself under a false identity in an isolated protestant village, he says that he is the heir of an abandoned manor. Disfigured by the war, it is under a false name, and this false appearance of gender that Rose (Hüller) wins the approval, and even the respect, of the inhabitants. A recognition that will serve her in getting her own way.
Through a feminist and queer story, Rose does not shy away from the themes brought by its subject, the complexity of its character, and the relationship regarding gender expression that stems from it. The persona created by Rose, first because of social necessity, becomes a personal one when the masculine appearance becomes not only a myriad of opportunities that would not be accessible as a woman, but also a shield that provides her with a fortress that allows for greater freedom in her intimacy. The lines of binarity confound themselves, and the character of Rose is explored through a mix of gender expression where she identifies as a woman, a father, a soldier, and a wife. Sandra Hüller, through a physical and deeply emotional performance, alternates between the two feelings of belonging, to deliver in very few words a complete quest for identity.
Indeed, Rose does not rest on words. A film built on unsaid things, it is reflective before anything else. A choice of black and white imagery participates in that reflectiveness, since Schleinzer justifies the absence of colour as a means for the audience to redirect its attention. The splendid cinematography, signed Gerald Kerklets, is based on binarity, where the nuances can be found in the shadows, reflecting the tone of the script. There is a danger in adapting a true story from a couple of decades back for a modern audience. A line that avoids falling into stereotypes cannot be crossed, wherever it regards the exploration of gender or the presence of transidentity subtext. In a society where intolerance for those minorities is extremely present, a clumsy representation can lead to real violence. But the greatness of the film can be found in its human approach to its subject, a tenderness with which the tale is painted, even in its most heinous moments. It is a tenderness that can also be found in the rhythm of the film, where lingering scenes leave room for the characters to simply exist, where, for a 90-minute film, Rose is never made to hastily figure herself out or explain her actions, leaving her thoughts and emotions fill the screen and the room.
Rose is a sort of reverence to its character, which can be felt in the treatment of the story, as well as in the ways it chooses to give it life on the screen. Choosing to recreate the houses, fields, and villages to match those of that time, so that an intrinsic feeling can be developed, is just another example of that.
Comments
Post a Comment