We first meet 78-year-old Rose (the vibrant Françoise Fabian) singing along to “Bei Mir Bist Du Schön” as a live band plays at the raucous birthday party of her husband Philippe (Bernard Murat). The two, who are of French-Tunisian-Jewish origin, are surrounded by their community in celebration. Philippe orders a drink, vodka with almonds, Rose insists on having apricot juice. Soon a cloud covers this joyful event when their son Pierre (Grégory Montel) informs their daughter Sarah (Aure Atika) that their father’s test results have come back and they’re not good. The next scene is a funeral. This all happens in the first five minutes of writer-director Aurélie Saada‘s debut film “Rose,” which spends the rest of its runtime following the titular woman on what the filmmaker calls an “intimate revolution” as she re-embraces the joys of life.
Inspired in part by Saada’s own grandmother, the filmmaker infuses “Rose” with an infectious sense of joie de vivre. It’s a film about appreciating the small pleasures in life, like dancing alone in your kitchen while baking sweet treats for a lover. Partaking in boisterous conversations around a dinner table. Sharing intimacies with new and old acquaintances over a few drinks. Blasting a favorite song while driving in your car with your best friend. Picking out a new lipstick just for yourself. These are things we often take for granted, but in retrospect make up the best times in our lives. For Rose, like a lot of older women, these were things she had given up altogether.
At first Rose grieves the loss of her husband, sitting shiva with her friends and family, sacrificing a piece of frozen meat so as not to curse her youngest son Léon (Damien Chapelle), who still lives at home and is caught up in some legal troubles. Soon, her grief overwhelms her. She stops washing her hair or doing much of anything, causing great concern for her children. Pierre suggests they get her a maid. Sarah suggests a therapist. Léon, a spa day. After a fateful meeting with a devil-may-care older woman named Marceline (Michèle Moretti) at a dinner party and a flirty encounter with a café owner named Laurent (Pascal Elbé), something changes in Rose. A curiosity for life reignites.
But just as Rose begins to find herself again, her adult children’s lives fall apart. Conservative—and married—Pierre finds himself drawn to an old schoolmate (Anne Suarez). Sarah gets earth-shattering news about her ex-husband (Mehdi Nebbou), whom she is still in love with. Léon’s legal troubles cause him to be even more clinging and protective of his mother. With their own lives swirling out of control, the trio look to Rose for stability but find only rocky ground as she moves towards this new phase of her life.
Saada, who also composed the film’s music and sings songs in Hebrew, Arabic, Yiddish and Italian on its soundtrack, has a knack for capturing the sensual pleasures of being alive. The dinner tables are filled to the edge with the most delicious-looking food, drinks overflowing, and conversation overlapping. Every apartment has art, photographs, books, and trinkets that offer viewers a glimpse into the characters’ personalities and inner lives. Saada’s lively music gives each scene a distinct rhythm. As Rose embraces these pleasures, her wardrobe reflects her growth. By the end of the film, she’s wearing the gorgeous sea foam green caftan featured in the film’s poster and high heels, her hair done just right to showcase her beautiful Mallen streak.
While the film has an ensemble cast, it is really Fabian’s show and she carries it on the strength of her enigmatic smile. Like a living Mona Lisa, she seems to have a thousand different variations, each expressing a different emotion, often within a few seconds of each other. As when she first sees Laurent at his cafe. Sitting opposite her daughter Sarah, a flush of desire flashes over Rose so quickly it might as well have been lightning. Later, when she and Laurent share a late-night drink and dance, Fabian’s smile is as fresh and new and nervous as a giddy teenage girl.
No longer afraid to explore life, when Rose finds herself alone at a café one night she asks a group if she can join them. They share drinks, talk of Tunisia, dance, and eat Rose’s baked goods. When asked what she would wish for at that moment, she answers, “For this evening to never end!” For the first time in a long time, she is living her life with carefree abandon, embracing the good times now, not worrying about the past or the future.
In the film’s final scene, Rose wakes up on her carpet after that drunken night out, confronted by her children who do not approve of her new, reckless behavior. Fabian’s smile grows cold. Her life is behind her, but she intends to embrace what little amount she has left. “My loves, if it scares you, then I’ll stop everything,” she says as she stares directly into the camera, addressing it—and the audience looking on—as much as she is addressing her children. “But I don’t want to.”