Even though Hollywood’s filled with stars from the United Kingdom, there’s only a small percentage of British films that get substantial releases in the United States. Awards contenders like Belfast and The Banshees of Inisherin are bound to cross over, as are select indies with commercial appeal, such as this year’s Pillion. The British films that register overseas are those that either have universally relatable stories or present the United Kingdom as an object of wonderment; based on Paddington, an American viewer might assume that life in London is no different than Oz or Wonderland. There’s less traction for social dramas that tackle local issues, which is why Mark Jenkin’s name is relatively obscure stateside. The Cornish writer-director has developed a blend of kitchen-sink realism and supernatural folk horror with his low-budget features, and his latest film Rose of Nevada is his most ambitious project to date.
Rose of Nevada is set in the present day, but that isn’t immediately noticeable given the impoverished conditions that the residents of a small fishing village in Cornwall are living in. Their technology’s outdated and way of life is centered on fishing in the murky waters, which is the same profession that has held up the community for generations. The fisherman Nick (George MacKay) and Liam (Callum Turner) embark on an expedition into the sea, but the waters are too contaminated to make any catches. Their return to shore isn’t the homecoming they expect; they’ve fallen into a time loop that sent them back to 1993, where Cornwall’s prospects looked much sunnier.
Jenkin created a murky, secluded setting in which basic context clues don’t immediately point to the historical era. The film is shot beautifully on 16mm, and the symmetrical, slightly faded imagery is more comparable to that of a historical photograph than a contemporary aquatic epic. The reason for this old-fashioned visual style is explained by Jenkin’s thesis, which is that Cornwall is trapped in the past; the rural homeland has faced a bleak reality in the 2020s due to the loss of industry and the strip-mining of resources. The 2023 that Nick and Liam live in could be mistaken for a memory piece because their homes and institutions have been left to wither away, and a trip three decades into the past feels like a progression. However, Jenkin doesn’t present the science fiction premise as a Back to the Future-style adventure because the seeds of contemporary bleakness begin to emerge in 1993.
The eeriness at the heart of Rose of Nevada isn’t that Nick and Liam are added to a different timeline, but that they’ve become part of it. Treacherous fishing missions have been a cornerstone of this village for generations, and there were two other men who happened to disappear right before Nick and Liam arrived. Their miraculous appearance is used to highlight the cycle of tragedy that has kept Cornwall regressing; Nick’s mistaken for an absentee father who was lost at sea, and Liam’s falsely identified as a fellow sailor who died by suicide. That they’re forced to endure the pain of 30 years ago is complicated by their knowledge that, as calamitous as the loss of these men was, the situation is about to get worse for everyone that’s welcomed them.
Jenkin is smart in never explaining too much about the mythology of the supernatural, given that Rose of Nevada is essentially a modern ghost story. There’s also little discussion about the implications of the time loop because Nick and Liam aren’t particularly close, and wouldn’t engage in the sort of excitable conversations about time travel that were held by Marty McFly and Doc Brown. The brooding, internalized performances from MacKay and Turner aren’t just suitable for the downbeat mood that Jenkin has established, but authentic to the culture of Cornwall. These are men who’d never think to travel beyond the confines of the community that they grow up in because political fragmentation has nullified their curiosity.
MacKay’s a relatively young actor who’s already taken more risks than those twice his age. Rose of Nevada is a thematic continuation of the excellent performance he gave in Bertrand Bonello’s baffling science fiction masterpiece The Beast, in which he played a man from the future inserted into three different timelines. His transformation in Rose of Nevada is more subtle, but it's hinted at early on that Nick might share a connection with Alan, the man whose identity Liam would come to inhabit. Nick has struggled to provide for his own young children, and is forced to witness the grief that a similar family would deal with if their patriarch was taken away. That he can only experience these emotions second-hand is itself a statement about the disenfranchisement that’s been within the Cornish lifestyle.
Turner’s performance isn’t as textured, but there’s nonetheless a fascinating commentary on survivor’s guilt after Liam’s forced to bear witness to the anguish experienced by the parents of Luke, who Nick’s been mistaken for. Turner’s a good actor who’s frequently plays a charming romantic lead, and Rose of Nevada asked him to play a more cynical, tormented character who’s only found his place through an identification error. While his name has been frequently floated for the role of James Bond, Turner’s performance in Rose of Nevada is the first indication that he might be Daniel Craig’s replacement.
Rose of Nevada is a maturation in style compared to Jenkin’s previous films, which were more overt in their homages to 1970s folk horror classics like Don’t Look Now and The Wicker Man. While Rose of Nevada is a subversion of maritime adventures that also bears the influence of the early-21st century’s kitchen sink dramas, it’s most broadly similar to the definitive Cornwall film of all-time: Alfred Hitchcock’s Rebecca. Hitchcock entertained the notion of a haunted widower ensnared by a gothic curse to relive his heartbreak through perpetual guilt. Jenkin widened the aperture from a marriage to an entire segment of the population, only to reveal the erosion of progress that has doomed them all.