Rose of Nevada is the sort of movie you’ll be tempted to begin again as soon as you finish. The film is a puzzle, and the clues are all upfront.
A decrepit fishing boat thought lost suddenly appears in the harbor of a small fishing village. It’s the Rose of Nevada, and its gears and machinery are rusted with age. Mike, the town steward, boards it and finds it’s abandoned. The cabin shows no signs of life except for a weathered red cap and a photo of a town woman, Tina.
Tina lives in a dour house with her daughter. She and Mike have a bond — undisclosed to the audience — that leads them to agree that the Rose of Nevada must go back out to sea. A crew is enlisted: Nick Dyer, a townie with a mournful expression and a young family, and Liam, an unruly roustabout. The men are teamed with Murgey, the gruff captain, thinking they’ve signed on for a fishing expedition. Actually, it’s a voyage into destiny.
Nick returns to find himself a man out of time: the newspaper is dated 30 years in the past. Folks who were ancient when he left are now middle-aged. They call him by another name. Liam has taken up with Tina. Everyone acts out of character. Who are these people? Who, for that matter, is Nick himself? An elderly neighbor excuses what we at first read as his wife’s dementia: “She gets the past and present mixed up.” She’s not the only one.
The film is the confident work of director Mark Jenkin, who wrote the screenplay based on an original story with Mary Woodvine. Visually, Mr. Jenkin lays out a mosaic of mysteries. The camera lingers on motor parts rusted as red as blood, mold the green of idyllic fields, a curtain being drawn closed, rain-slicked stones, a towel drying a woman’s wet hair. These montages are not mere verisimilitude. The textures and tones are emotional cues. Mr. Jenkin also composed the haunting sound design and score.
Rose of Nevada looks like an 8mm home movie. The editing is clunky. The screen shape is square, not the horizontal aspect ratio of most current films. A flare shows up on the edge of the frame, as if the film were exposed to light. This may seem amateurish, but its naivete pays off. Flourishes like an earthbound character locking eyes with one in the heavens, and showing another repeatedly in shadow, then illuminated by an open door, suggest a distinct cinematic vision. This DIY style is an extension of the “found footage” genre. It creates an artificial nostalgia and the sense that all the lives have been witnessed and are preordained, adding to the eeriness.
As Nick, George Mackay (seen in 1917) grounds the film. His sharp features and knotted brow reflect our own confusion. Rosalind Eleazar simmers in a range of emotions as Tina and has been so good in Apple TV’s Slow Horses. Callum Turner (in The Boys in the Boat and the Fantastic Beasts series) exudes a working-class coarseness as Liam. Yana Emily Penrose as Tina’s grown-up daughter and Mae Voogd as Nick’s wife round out the cast nicely. They’re a compendium of fine young acting talent that you’ll see much more of in the future.
Once you’ve finished Rose of Nevada, begin again. The clues are all there. They’re cryptic, but patience pays off: revisiting them adds poignancy to an already intriguing trip.
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Rose of Nevada. Directed by Mark Jenkin. 2025. United Kingdom. Runtime 114 minutes.