Having directed features since the early 2000’s, Mark Jenkin wasn’t on my radar until Enys Men (2022), which earned scattered raves (particularly from UK-based critics). Upon viewing it a year later, I appreciated the cinematography, editing and sound design, but couldn’t parse what the experimental narrative was attempting to achieve, and didn’t glean much meaning or feeling from it in the end.

I was hoping this follow-up would build on such promise, but Rose of Nevada is frustratingly more of the same. I’ve concluded that as an artist, Jenkins is a master technician—his compositions remain striking, the immersive, intricate sound design provides momentum and the often chaotic editing gives at least the impression that something exciting is happening.

Unfortunately, his approach to narrative remains fragmented (not necessarily bad in itself) and curiously remote and cold (a big problem). Without Jenkin offering much of an invitation to connect, I became a little bored, making snarky comments to myself such as “Hey, it’s Edgar Winter!” at the first sight of ancient Mrs. Richard with her long, straight white hair. George Mackay is serviceable with what he’s given (and a sight gag centered on him early on is a rare moment of actual physical humor), but I don’t recall anything about Callum Turner other than his abrupt act of violence at Mackay late in the film.

It’s especially disappointing given that Jenkin potentially has the skills to become a beloved weirdo auteur like Peter Strickland but films, no matter how challenging, must give audiences a reason to care about what’s going on.