In June, we saw Callum Turner marry international pop star, actress, and book lover Dua Lipa. This month, he appears as Ed, an unemployed podcaster in Karim Aïnouz’s Rosebush Pruning, alongside a star-studded cast including Elle Fanning, Pamela Anderson, and Jamie Bell, among others. The film presents itself as a crossover between the visual aesthetics of Saltburn and the social commentary and family dynamics of Succession. With further backing from a script written by frequent Yorgos Lanthimos collaborator Efthimios Filippou, and an international premiere at this year’s Berlinale in January, expectations are certainly high and, unfortunately, they are not met.
Rosebush Pruning follows a dysfunctional New York family living remotely in the Spanish woodlands, grappling with the death of their mother a year prior. Each of the children embodies a form of arrested development, their wealth enabling a prolonged, almost wilful adolescence. Infantilised and emotionally stunted, they exist in a state of stagnation, unable to meaningfully process their grief or to grow up.
Presiding over them is their Father, played by Tracey Letts, whose gleaming white teeth (which are a mystery within the film) are seen as more of a leader than a father. His presence reinforces the family’s inability to mature, maintaining a structure that thrives on dependence rather than growth. The exception is Jack (Jamie Bell) who emerges as the only grounded and self-aware figure. As he begins to break away from the family’s insular world, the others attempt to imitate him, lure him home, recognising in his departure a possibility of escape they themselves struggle to achieve.
The film thrives on its visual aesthetics, using its mise-en-scène to reflect the family’s emotional and social detachment. The house they inhabit is cluttered with meaningless art objects, plush red carpets, and heavy drapery, creating a space that feels both excessive and hollow. Similarly, their clothing signifies status rather than style, prioritising display over individuality and reinforcing the sense that their identities are shaped by privilege rather than personal expression.
Aïnouz demonstrates a clear and richly articulated vision that aligns closely with the film’s conceptual framework. Through a deliberate use of iconography, costume design, and a consistent colour palette dominated by deep, blood-red tones, he constructs a world that feels suspended in time, burdened by grief from the outset. These aesthetic choices work cohesively to externalise the family’s stagnation and unresolved mourning. Ultimately, however, the script imposes a ceiling on the film’s potential, limiting how far these visual ideas can develop or evolve.
I just kept finding myself feeling that the film assumes rather than lets the viewer in. From the beginning, we are left on the outskirts, as the script presumes we will be captured by Riley Keough’s whimsical, flirtatious Anna or by the incestuous undertones of Lukas Gage’s Robert, but it never actually tries to make you care about any of the siblings. These elements then start to feel increasingly pedantic and overworked, relying on provocation rather than meaningful development. What might initially register as daring or transgressive instead comes across as calculated, deployed more for shock value than for genuine narrative momentum or emotional depth.
Rosebush Pruning is an undeniably strange film that pushes boundaries but ultimately falls short in making its characters compelling or emotionally engaging. There is an apparent “eat the rich” motif throughout, yet it feels more derivative of prevailing cinematic trends than genuinely inspired by them. As a result, the film gestures towards critique without ever fully committing to it. I personally found this sense of limitation particularly frustrating given the calibre of its cast, featuring some of the most promising young actors of the current generation. Despite their potential, the material rarely allows them the depth or nuance required to elevate the film beyond its surface-level provocations, leaving a lingering sense that it could, and should, have offered more.
