Austrian casting director turned filmmaker Markus Schleinzer’s third feature, Rose, reconstructs a historical case from the Thirty Years’ War, following a stranger who arrives in a Protestant village claiming inheritance of an abandoned farm.
The newcomer, marked by a disfigured face, initially arouses suspicion. Once the required documents are produced, the village permits the transfer of property. Acceptance is gradual and tied to labour.
The stranger restores the farmstead, integrates into the local economy, and eventually secures both social standing and a marriage proposal from a neighbouring farmer, who offers his daughter along with land. From the outset, Schleinzer frames this trajectory as constructed. The titular Rose sustains a deception rooted in gender concealment, suggesting an alternative life made accessible through male identity.
Schleinzer first gained recognition with his Haneke-influenced debut Michael, centred on a pedophile kidnapping a child and holding him captive, while his sophomore feature Angelo shifted into a historical register, examining assimilation, display and the violence of Enlightenment patronage through the life of Angelo Soliman. Rose continues in this historical mode. Shot in black and white, it draws on documented cases of women in the 17th century posing as men, with the titular character functioning as a composite of these experiences, rather than a single historical figure.
The premise is straightforward: how long can Rose sustain the deception before being exposed? She begins by repairing the farm, her financial means allowing her to hire two local workers, eventually restoring the farm to full operation and establishing herself as their employer. When a bear attacks the locals, Rose’s marksmanship, acquired during the war, allows her to kill the animal and protect the community, elevating her standing within the local hierarchy.
This cements her position in the patriarchal structure to the point where she is offered Suzanna (Caro Braun), the daughter of a local patriarch, in marriage.The situation appears stable until the marriage remains unconsummated and no offspring is produced, prompting an explicit threat from the father-in-law.
With little room to manoeuvre, Rose reluctantly resorts to a handmade strap-on, whose origin gains significance later in the film, in order to fulfil marital duties. The subsequent birth of a child secures her status within the community, but also introduces another layer of concealment regarding the child’s origin.
As Rose navigates the constant risk of exposure, even minor incidents carry potential consequences. A bee sting becomes the catalyst for the gradual collapse of her constructed identity, as suspicions begin to accumulate. While her service in the war and contribution to the community might suggest the possibility of leniency, the resolution follows a more rigid and punitive logic consistent with the period.
The film unfolds as a relatively straightforward narrative with few deviations. Despite the protagonist being an amalgamation of multiple historical experiences, Schleinzer’s film leans toward an emancipation fable.
Rose repeatedly states that it was “easier to live with the trousers on,” a line that points directly to structural discrimination within an entrenched patriarchal order. The film frames this dynamic as both ironic and tragic, as women are only permitted to perform certain forms of labour when presenting as men.
The black-and-white cinematography by Gerald Kerkletz reinforces the period setting while lending the film a measured, almost fable-like quality, as Rose follows the codes of a masculine lifestyle. The tension is sustained through the constant possibility that a minor misstep could expose her, raising the question of whether her contributions to the community will be acknowledged or disregarded.
One of the film’s central elements is Sandra Hüller’s performance as the disfigured, cross-dressing Rose. Following her recent roles in Anatomy of a Fall and The Zone of Interest, Hüller operates here in a different register, as she is depicting a collective archetype.
Her performance extends beyond physical disguise to include the adoption of patriarchal behaviours, managing workers, negotiating with other farmers, and fulfilling marital obligations. In one scene, when suspicions about her identity begin to circulate, Rose goes on a tirade about wanting to see “everybody’s cock”, even their father’s, before offering to expose herself, escalating the situation into a formal dispute. Hüller won a Silver Bear for her performance at the 2026 Berlinale.
Rose functions less as a conventional feminist story and more as an examination of an entrenched, gender-biased social order. Its focus remains on emancipation through altered appearance, exposing how easily such a system can be both upheld and undermined.
The film screened at the 2026 Diagonale.