In Jennifer Sheridan’s original debut feature, Rose: A Love Story, husband Sam (screenwriter Matt Stokoe) and wife Rose (Sophie Rundle) live a secluded life together in England’s snowy woods. Sam spends his days in the freezing cold gathering wood, setting rabbit traps, and looking after them both, whereas Rose stays inside writing novels, on a typewriter like she’s Jack Nicholson in The Shining, and managing her mysterious blood condition. As time goes on, their quaint existence is interrupted by Amber (Olive Gray), a young runaway who threatens to cause the very tragedy Sam has been fighting to prevent. Although the film was made prior to the events of 2020, it draws upon current themes of cabin fever, illness and isolation.
Rose’s condition makes her vampire of sorts — she wears a protective face mask, doesn’t go out in the day, and feasts on the blood-filled snacks prepared by Sam, often through the animals he catches or the leeches he routinely attaches to his thighs. Rose’s vampiric condition is a compelling metaphor for living with chronic illness, and Stokoe’s script examines the strength needed for Sam and Rose’s strained but loving relationship to survive it. There’s lots of tension, strict routines, feelings of guilt and giving up, and reacting quickly to Rose’s sudden episodes. Sam has no qualms about the sacrifices he’s made and the lengths he goes to in order to protect his wife, which is often showcased through traditional but effective horror tropes in this original twist on the vampire.
Stokoe and Rundle’s performances are wonderful as they portray strong chemistry in a complex relationship filled with love, hardship, and realistic arguments. Rundle packs a lot into her performance as Rose: she is soft and monstrous, caring and anxious, and self-critical and beautiful. She gives a quiet yet powerful account of someone who is torn between her love for Sam and the guilt she feels for holding him back. Rose talks about sitting around and waiting for herself to get better when they both know she’s getting worse.
Rose: A Love Story gets many of the little things right, such as the insecurities a woman can feel during sex when Rose wants the lights turned off, but Sam doesn’t want to “fuck [his] wife in the dark” as he can see the beauty in her. Sam is caring to the point of devotion, but has anger issues, likely as a result of the pressure of protecting Rose from the outside world. In addition to this, the film’s treatment of chronic illness is realistic and affecting as it does an impressive and empathetic job in getting across the problems that often occur between couples. It also rightfully leaves a lot up for interpretation.
Sheridan’s gentle yet atmospheric horror film is full of riveting tension, gorgeous scenery, and fantastic performances. As the title suggests, it’s less about Rose’s vampiric condition and more about how Sam and Rose’s relationship works because they make it work. The vampire formula is muted as the film doesn’t reveal everything at once, preferring to deliver a striking character-driven slow burn. We spend the entire film getting to know Sam and Rose, so when the main action happens in the last five minutes or so, the true nature of Rose’s terrifying and violent illness hits so suddenly with a punch to the gut, rendering us speechless.
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