Review by
Eric Hillis
Directed by: Jennifer Sheridan
Starring: Sophie Rundle, Matt Stokoe, Nathan McMullen, Olive Gray, Boadicea Ricketts
Of all the mythical creatures that populate the horror genre, the
vampire has proven the most consistently malleable for storytellers.
Vampires can be unambiguously evil, like Christopher Lee's Dracula, or
tragic, sympathetic figures like Robert Pattinson's sparkly
Twilight vamp. Often they're both, particularly when
they're employed to allegorically represent the downtrodden and
oppressed, those forced to live outside the norms of polite society
(nobody roots against lesbian vampires, no matter how evil their deeds
might be). What unites most of these vampires, whether villains or
heroes, is their sexual allure. Several filmmakers have seized upon the
vampire's bloodlust as a fitting addiction metaphor, ala Abel Ferrara's
The Addiction and Michael O'Shea's
The Transfiguration. The vampires of such movies generally buck the trend of being
sexually attractive, as the effects of their lifestyle take a toll on
their physicality, making them creatures to merely be pitied rather than
desired.
Jennifer Sheridan's compelling directorial debut,
Rose: A Love Story, opts for the addiction allegory, but it also presents us with a
vampire who continues the trend of being physically beguiling, even if
she doesn't think so herself. Rose (Sophie Rundle) is so
self-conscious of her pale complexion that she refuses to make love with
the lights on, despite her committed hubby, Sam (Matt Stokoe),
constantly affirming his attraction for her.
Sheridan discards the unnecessary baggage of an origin story for Rose's
vampiric condition. When we meet Sam and Rose they've been married for
an undefined amount of time, and now live a life secluded away from
society deep in a forest in the far North of England. Sam lives off the
land, catching rabbits in traps and growing vegetables in his garden.
Rose's tastes are a little more difficult to cater for, but the pair
have devised a clever way to keep her topped up with a steady diet of
blood. Every night, Sam attaches leeches to his legs and allows them to
fill themselves up with his blood. Once they're plump with plasma, he
mashes them into an icky goulash and serves it up to a hungry
Rose.
I've always appreciated movies that take time to establish the world
they're set in, no matter how intimate that setting might be. If you go
into Rose: A Love Story asking questions of just how you
might live a day to day life if your spouse was a bloodsucker, you'll
find most of them answered here. Sheridan lays out the minutiae of Sam
and Rose's solitary existence to such a degree that by the time their
lifestyle becomes threatened by the arrival of an outsider in the
movie's second half, we feel like we're fully prepared to retreat from
society ourselves, should we ever find ourselves bitten by a vampire and
forced to shun daylight.
Rose: A Love Story is by no means an ironic title. This
is a genuinely romantic film, one that presents us with two people whose
feelings for one another are tangible and admirable. Sam is completely
committed to the sacrifice he's made to live with his wife, but no
matter how much he tries to reassure her, Rose is plagued by guilt.
Along with addiction, Sheridan employs the vampire myth as an allegory
for two people living with a terminal illness, and how such a bond can
simultaneously strengthen and strain a relationship.
The strain comes when Sam is forced to head into the nearest town after
being ripped off by a young man claiming to work for his regular
supplier of petrol and leeches. Returning home after a violent
confrontation, Sam becomes plagued by paranoia regarding the local
townsfolk happening upon his and Rose's hideaway, and he begins to keep
secrets from his wife. Rose, whose entire existence is based around
suppressing her violent instincts, is shocked to learn her husband
exploded into physical rage so readily. But was Sam lashing out at the
young man or at the circumstances he's found himself in?
Editors often make smooth transitions into directing, as they've spent
their prior career figuring out what works on screen and what doesn't.
While directing shorts, Sheridan has been working steadily as an editor
for the past decade, and her experience shows in her feature debut.
Rose: A Love Story is immaculately assembled, with not a
beat out of step in its visual storytelling, not to mention sound design
that helps us experience Sam's paranoia regarding every snapping twig in
the woods outside his home.
Where editors often fall down when they pick up the megaphone is in
their ability to work with actors, but Sheridan has mined what can only
be described as instant star-making turns from Rundle and Stokoe. The
pair are so convincing as a married couple – for better, for worse, in
sickness – that I found myself googling their names to check if they
weren't actually real life lovers, and lo and behold, they're currently
engaged! While we get a clear sense early on that tragedy awaits their
protagonists here, I suspect big things are in store for Sheridan and
her leads.
Rose: A Love Story is on
Shudder UK now.