"These pants meant more freedom, and they're really just a piece of cloth – so I put them on."

In the midst of the Thirty Years' War, a sullen and scarred soldier stumbles into a remote village; gaunt and scarred, he carries a document that declares him the heir of an anbandoned estate. Marred by battle, Rose seeks a place where he can settle down. Despite the resistance of the village community, he establishes a new life for himself. But since prestige and belonging are determined by wealth and alliances, he takes his scheming to the point of arranged marriage to a farmer's daughter. The more he becomes entangled, the riskier his charade –  until his secret throws the community into a frenzy.

Sandra Hüller transforms Rose into an invented existence as perhaps only she could: radically disciplined, unwavering, and with matter-of-fact pragmatism. Director Markus Schleinzer counters this with form instead of psychologising; a camera that remains at a distance, archaic language, meaningful looks instead of explanations. Such is the coldness of order. A black-and-white film in which the present is reflected in garb of the past.