Rose (2022): Sofie Gråbøl Shines in this Study of Schizophrenia (Review)

Made in 2022, the Danish film Rose has finally made its long-anticipated way to our shores, becoming available in select cinemas and on demand from Friday, June 28th. The popularity of Danish or Scandinavian film and television has risen in recent years, thanks to their many crime dramas that continue to be a staple of Saturday night scheduling on BBC4, whilst wider genres continue to be explored as part of Channel 4’s “Walter Presents” strand (and whatever its calling its streaming service this week). Once unfamiliar names for U.K. audiences such as Rose‘s stars, Sofie Gråbøl, Lene Maria Christensen and Søren Malling, along with its writer/director Niels Arden Oplev, are now very familiar, thanks to The Killing, Dicte, Borgen and The Girl With The Dragon Tattoo respectively. Basically, if you know your Scandi dramas, you’ll appreciate that Rose boasts an impressive pedigree, and it’s one that it fulfills beautifully.

A deeply personal film for Niels Arden Oplev, whose sister lives with schizophrenia, Rose tells the story of Inger (Gråbøl), whose mental health deteriorated some years earlier as a young woman. She now resides at a care home and uses a wheelchair to get around, not because of any physical disability, but because the thought of independent mobility for any length of time unnerves her. When the opportunity arises to take a coach trip to Paris, a city that she had lived in during her youth, her considerate sister Ellen (Christensen), encourages Inger to come on holiday with her and her new husband Vagn (Anders W Berthelsen), leaving behind the care home, the wheelchair and the Valium that Inger and Ellen’s mother swears by, for a period of greater freedom and independence.

Unfortunately a coach trip, by its very nature, means being part of a group of somewhat disparate people – many of whom will be unfamiliar with Inger’s condition, and may even be apprehensive of, or hostile towards, her. As the party wends their way from Denmark to Paris, most of the animosity comes from one man – Søren Malling’s buttoned-up and middle-aged teacher Andreas, who takes every opportunity to make it plain that he feels his family’s vacation is being disrupted by a woman he feels ought to be kept away from society.

This hostile attitude isn’t ultimately shared by the rest of the trippers, nor indeed by Andreas’ own family, with his wife and fellow teacher, Margit (Christiane Gjellerup Koch), and their 13-year-old son Christian (Luca Reichardt Ben Coker), warming to Inger and becoming reliant on her fluency in French and her familiarity with the surroundings. Christian in particular, forms a wonderful relationship with her – evidence that children are not hidebound by prejudice and find it far easier to take things in their stride. Initially, we see that Christian is mischievously delighted by an adult who has the heady mix of both the guilelessness of someone his own age, the colourful, expletive-ridden vocabulary of an adult, and a complete lack of inhibition, but as their friendship develops, it also deepens.

From Inger, the boy learns how to stand up to his priggish father’s pomposity, strict demands and intolerance, whilst Inger finds in Christian a confidant who accepts her as a person, rather than a walking schizophrenia diagnosis to be kept at arm’s length. This allows her to reveal to him an incident from her past that occurred when she was last in Paris that goes some way to explaining her difficulties, and unbeknownst to everyone else, the pair pledge to find closure on this matter while in the French capital. Despite her difficulties, Inger also comes to display a great instinct for protecting the boy – a responsibility that’s often shirked by Andreas when his petty preoccupations are given full rein.

If this sounds like a very refreshing cinematic depiction of mental illness, that’s because it is. Rose ought to be commended for tackling schizophrenia in a positive manner as it’s still a somewhat taboo subject that the majority of society has little appreciation or understanding of. All too often it’s a by-word in cinema for violent slasher movies made by lazy filmmakers who misunderstand the condition, which positively coaches and encourages the bigoted prejudices and anxieties of a characters like Andreas. In Rose, and emphatically because of Niels Arden Oplev’s personal experiences, Inger is presented as a woman with agency, perspective, and a loving and romantic side. Yes, her vulnerability is greatly in evidence, and her personal needs place a strain on her kin, but she also contributes greatly and positively to their holiday overall.

Set in Paris shortly after Princess Diana met her tragic demise there in 1997 (the site of her death being something that Vagn is morbidly curious to see), Rose is as much a holiday movie as it is a film about mental illness, and Oplev captures much of the intense bonding shared over a short period of time that’s key to coach trips or package holidays. There’s something almost Shirley Valentine too in the way that Inger is initially perceived by her fellow holidaymakers, and like the heroine of that movie, we see how Inger’s quirks and foibles set her apart from the rest of the party, who view her as a curious outsider. As the foreign locales open up to Inger and she drinks it all in, the rest of holidaymakers are left to rely on her knowledge and ability to navigate this strange land and its cultures.

The performances in Rose are all first-rate with Christensen initially taking the lead as Ellen – a canny move on Oplev’s part as it allows him to introduce Inger’s schizophrenia to audiences who will, in the main, have little insight into the condition. Depicted brilliantly by Christensen, Ellen is an everywoman character that ought to be easily identifiable and sympathetic to viewers. She’s a good sister who just wants the best for her vulnerable sibling, whose careworn nature is displayed when having to navigate an acceptable way for everyone around the burdens of Inger’s health. Vagn also shares these qualities, and Berthelsen delivers a great performance as a warm-hearted and protective family man who embraces the situation with admirable ease and empathy.

Slowly and almost imperceptibly, Oplev shows faith in his audience as, at some point in the story, the focus shifts towards Inger herself (it’s probably around the time that the Valium that her mother had mollified her with on a daily basis finally leaves her system. Gråbøl is, of course, magnificent, and we hang on each skillful nuance of her performance, from the comedy of Inger’s sly humour or sudden inappropriate outbursts, to the innate tragedy of her vulnerability and inner pain. This is a fully fleshed out, multi-dimensional character, and Gråbøl absolutely rises to the challenge of inhabiting it across the film’s 110 minutes.

Mark’s Archive – Rose (2022)