In this Venice Film Festival interview, we speak with director Mark Jenkin and stars Callum Turner and George MacKay about their film Rose of Nevada.
When the titular boat shots up at the old harbour of a forgotten fishing village in Cornwall ad the start of Mark Jenkin’s Rose of Nevada, its residents are confused. The Rose of Nevada hadn’t been seen for thirty years, when it vanished, bringing with it two men who were never seen again. Still, young men Liam (Callum Turner) and Nick (George MacKay) join the crew as deckhands, each for different reasons and both hoping to catch some fish. But while it turns out to be a fruitful trip, when our protagonist come back, something has changed. Soon, Liam and Nick realise that they’ve gone back in time, and the whole town thinks they are the original crew of the Rose of Nevada.
BAFTA award winning filmmaker Mark Jenkin, director of Bait (2019) and Enys Men (2022), returns with a project that’s just as haunting, creative, and psychologically intriguing as his previous work. In Rose of Nevada – of which Jenkins is, as usual, director, writer, cinematographer, editor, composer, and sound designer – he defies the rules of genre, narrative, and even time and space. Tapping into horror, sci-fi, psychological thriller, and even comedy, he ultimately confronts our basic needs as humans.
At the Venice Film Festival, where Rose of Nevada had its World Premiere, we spoke with Mark Jenkin and stars Callum Turner and George MacKay. Here’s what they told us about how the film came to be, the friendship that came out of it, the shooting and editing process, the many genres of Rose of Nevada, how George and Callum “have the same soul,” and more. Read the interview below!
“At one point, I realised what the film was about.” – Mark Jenkin on How Rose of Nevada Took Shape
Thank you so much for this fantastic film! How did you get the idea for it?
Mark Jenkin: What usually happens [when I make a movie] is that I have one idea, and I make that film. And then, at the key moment when I finish that film, I have another idea. That has got me through my career up to this point, so I was going along like that, but then the pandemic happened, and we had the lockdown. The film that I was just about to shoot, Enys Men (2022), was shut down, and so I had to come up with another idea for something to write while we were in lockdown – which I never can, because I suffer from quite a bad shortness of ideas.
So one night, early on in the lockdown, myself and Mary [Woodvine] – my partner who’s in the film [she plays Mrs. Richards, the mother of one of two men who disappeared] – were laying in bed, before going to sleep, and I told her, “I need to come up with a new idea, else I’m going to spend the lockdown just not doing anything.” And she said, “Have you got any ideas?” I said, “I got this one scene where this guy who owns a fishing boat goes down to the harbour one morning, and he finds the boat in the harbour, and he’s surprised.”
And she said, “Why is he surprised?” I said, “Because it was lost at sea 30 years before, and suddenly, it’s come back.” Then we started batting the ideas backwards and forwards about the story. We went to sleep, and in the morning, we didn’t mention it. But that evening, I said to Mary, “I’ve been thinking about that idea all day.” She said, “Yeah, so have I.” And at that point, I knew there was something in it. Then, it just expanded from there.
At one point, I realised what the film was about. I knew what the theme was, and the meaning of it: I could sum it up in one word. From that moment, I I knew that there was a film, and then I wrote several drafts. But it came out of necessity, really. I said to myself, ‘I’ve got to write a new script’, and it came out, somewhere.
Mark Jenkin on “Filling the Gaps” to “See” The Film, and How the Landscape Influences It
I love what you said just now, about “realising what the film was about”. It makes so much sense because your films are so incredible to experience, on such a visceral level, which makes them so difficult to describe. What do your films look like, in your head, before you start shooting?
M.J.: I can’t remember now, because I’ve recorded over the original idea I had with the actual film. But what I always have is, when I come up with an idea, I can see the whole film. But then, I sit down and start writing it – like, pen and paper – and I realize I can’t see the whole film. I can see maybe three scenes, one line of dialogue, and that’s not enough. So then, it’s filling in all of those gaps.
That’s why it’s so key for me to know what the theme is. I know what it is: I can say in one word in my head [that sums up what] this film is about. Then, that means that I can look at the page and go, ‘Well, that doesn’t relate to this theme, so I can cut that out’. Or, ‘This does relate to the theme, so I’ll expand it.’ Then it becomes easier.
I also try and write without a location in mind. Here, I knew we’d have to make this film in a village with a deserted harbour, and there aren’t any of those where I come from. I can’t picture one and write it; it has to be constructed out of lots of different bits. Here, we used parts of two different harbours, from different villages, but I can’t write thinking like that: I try not to imagine anywhere that exists.
How did the landscape influence your storytelling, then?
M.J.: Unconsciously, I think, because it’s where I’m from, so I just know it so well. I think people notice the landscape and the architecture, or all of that stuff, much more than I do, because of that. But I did photograph the sea endlessly. As soon as we [got to the set], I went down to the beach, and I was photographing the way the water works. I had never seen the Adriatic Ocean before, so I was photographing the waves, and the light, and stuff like that. I think I’m quite boring in that sense. I could just film it over and over again.
Mark Jenkin on Shooting and Editing Rose of Nevada
Can you tell us more about how you shoot and edit your films?
What happens is, when I come to edit the film, I have the scripted footage, and then I have endless shots of the sea, or rocks, or birds flying above the sea, or above rocks, or the wind in trees. I have all of these shots that aren’t in the script, but they really help me out in the edit, because suddenly, something doesn’t cut together. I go, ‘Well, I’ll cut to it.’ You know? It’s like, somebody’s eye line is wrong. They’re looking over there [points to one side], but the eye line should be matching with somebody over there [points to the other side]. But if I cut in a shot of a bird, it will make it look like they’re looking at the bird rather than the person. Then you look at it back and go, ‘Well, that scene now means something else.’
Because I didn’t write that. I don’t have the imagination to write it, but I have the ability to create things in the edit that are experiments. Some of them work, and some of them don’t. But then, when they do work, it becomes very transcendent, which is why my films tend to have a lot of shots of landscape, the elements, or inanimate objects.
How does that work, on a practical level? Do you have some time with the actors, and then you’re free to roam the landscape?
M.J.: Well, because I operate the camera myself and it’s always in my hand, we might be walking to a location. I could be walking down the harbor with George and Callum, talking, and I’ll just move away for ten seconds, because I’ll see something [and film it]. I don’t have a director of photography to whom I have to say, ‘Oh, quick, let’s get a shot of this,’ who would then get the operator because I’ve spotted a bird on the water – because [if it worked that way] by the time they’re ready, the bird has f*cked off, you know? [smiles] But I can just spin around and fire off a few feet of film.
The other thing is, I load the camera myself and it’s 100ft film rolls. So I can’t shoot anything crucial on the beginning and end of each roll: I wouldn’t waste it on [the actors] because it may have been fogged when I was loading it, or it may get fogged when I’m unloading it [so it would then be unusable]. So, on the beginning and the end [of a film roll], I would shoot stuff that’s inconsequential.
If you were shooting a scene here, right now, how would that work, with this in mind?
M.J.: If that scene was a dialogue between me and you… At the beginning of the roll, I might just quickly shoot a cutaway [a shot that’s used to briefly interrupt the main action to show something – like an object or location – that adds context] of the phone on the table. And then, at the end of the roll, I might shoot a shot of the trees out of the window. They may or may not come out in the edit, but if they do, suddenly I can use them in the scene.
I can have a shot of you sitting there listening to what I’m saying, and then you might glance that way [points to my side], and suddenly I can cut to a shot of a phone, and suddenly the audience is thinking, “Oh, that character is waiting for the phone to ring.” Now, that was never in the script, and it was never in your performance. But suddenly, you can have this association.
Or the character can look out there [points the other way]; I can cut to a shot of the trees, and suddenly it’s like, “Oh, this person’s not paying attention to what’s being said.” I don’t write them, but I can play with those in the edit to slow scenes down or just to change the motivations.
How much footage do you usually shoot?
M.J.: I hardly shoot any footage. I shoot one take, and one safety [a separate take of a scene that serves as a backup]. I don’t shoot any coverage, or any masters. I shoot the shots I see in my head, and then, when I get in the edit, I’m in trouble, because I don’t have coverage. But that’s when I get experimental with the editing, to try and simplify.
I’m not recording any location sound. So, for example, we’d go to a very busy village with cars, and people, and everything, and we’d just hold people back for 30 seconds while we were filming. But they wouldn’t have to be quiet. We didn’t have to say, “Right, everybody’s got to be quiet, and you have to turn off your car engines, because there’s so much noise,” because we weren’t recording sound. And then, when I get the footage back, the shot is empty; I just lay in the sound of the whistling, eerie wind, and suddenly, you’re in an abandoned environment.
“They were there for the batsh*t crazy” – How Callum Turner & George MacKay Worked with Mark Jenkin
What do you look for in a film, and what made you want to take part in this movie in particular?
Callum Turner: For me, it’s the director. I love directors. I think the bigger a director – or a showrunner, if you do a TV show – is, the better they are, and the more true they are to themselves. I was obsessed with Mark’s films when they came out. All my friends were talking about them. When that opportunity came, I jumped.
I’m going to do a rom-com [One Night Only, currently in production] with Will Gluck, who I think is an amazing rom-com director. I want to work with the best rom-com director I can, so that’s why I’m going to go do that movie, because of him. If Steven Spielberg, Christopher Nolan, Alejandro G. Iñárritu, Gaspar Noé, Mark Jenkin, or, I don’t know, Lars Von Trier approach me, I’m going to go do those movies, you know?
George MacKay: For this, specifically, it was Mark. I’m a fan of Mark’s as a filmmaker, and I wanted to be part of that. When the opportunity came about, it was very hands-down, “yes”.
[With movies in general,] it’s a mixture. It’s often the director, because you can have your own process, but the process of filmmaking is often informed by where the director wants to take you. I want to try as many different processes of working as possible. In this, the process of our acting was shaped by the technical processes that Mark puts at the forefront of his filmmaking. Sometimes it’s the story that speaks to you and you think, “I have to be part of this” for whatever conscious or unconscious reason. Then, on top of that, it’s the story itself. As in, you think, “Regardless of what I have to do in it, I want this story to be seen.” [In that case,] you’re happy to be a cog in the wheel of that story.
What was it like to work with Mark?
Callum Turner: What’s interesting about Mark is that he’s an artist, first and foremost. The script reads like a poem, and the movie is like a painting; it’s all so atmospheric, and it allows you to put your impression of the story in the film too. You have a personal relationship to the film; you’re not told what to think, or feel, or believe.
And Mark being the leader that he is, he’s actually created this community: a troupe of actors and people that he works with, from Cornwall, who also did Bait and Enys Men. I loved being in Cornwall. I loved making this movie because of these people, and it was a pleasure for George and I to go down there and be a part of their community, representing Cornwall in the way that we did.
Mark, was it a challenge for you to bring Callum and George in, since they were new to this ‘community’ and to your way of making films?
Mark Jenkin: That’s what I was worried about: I was thinking, ‘I’m probably going to have to do some things a bit more conventionally, because they might be freaked out about the way that I work’, but they were there for the batsh*t crazy. That’s what they wanted. When we were in the rehearsal room, I bought the camera just to show it to them. I do that with all the actors; I don’t want to fetishise the equipment by coming in and going, ‘Oh, this is the camera’, but I wanted them to know how simple it was.
Because the way that I work, for me, is the most simple way of making films. We have a camera, we have an actor, we have some lights, and that’s it. There’s no flashy camera movement. I don’t even work with a focus puller. The camera doesn’t really move; the movement is created in the edit. There’s nothing. There’s no grip equipment; the camera’s never on a steady, or on tracks, or on a crane, or anything like that. So I wanted to demystify it and say, ‘Look, it’s really simple. This is the camera.’
[Throughout their careers,] George and Callum both challenged themselves for the films they were doing, especially George, who had just come off a run of working with really interesting directors who all work in different ways [some examples are Nathalie Biancheri’s Wolf (2021), Bertrand Bonello’s The Beast (2023), Joshua Oppenheimer’s The End (2024)]. But as artists, they wanted to develop, and In order to do that, you have to try new things and work with people like me, who work in a very odd way.
There were times when I could have easily just turned out to George and said – which didn’t happen here, because we were working on the boat, but it’s happened on other films and with other actors – “Can you operate this shot?” You know, “Get him in the frame, push the shutter, …”, Because it’s not rocket science. You pretend what you’re making is so complicated, but it’s such nonsense. It’s so simple. You need a camera, and you need some people, and light. We get provided with light for free. If you don’t want to light it, you can go outside and shoot it. Filmmaking so simple, but people pretend it’s complicated.
George and Callum, does the film look like what you thought it would look like when you were making it?
G.M.: Definitely.
C.T.: Oh, yeah, because of Mark’s other movies. I knew that we were going to head in that direction. That was the exciting thing: working with someone who is so unique in our world right now, for the way of making a movie. No one does that anymore.
“They’ve Got the Same Soul” – Casting Callum Turner & George MacKay in Rose of Nevada, and the Friendship that Came Out of It
Mark, how did you come to choose Callum and George for the film?
Mark Jenkin: George was always on the list of people that I wanted to work with. We had a meeting about Rosa Nevada, and before I met him, I was thinking he’d probably play Liam, Callum’s character. Then when I met him, I thought, ‘No, I’ve got that wrong.’ I was sitting there, talking to him, and I saw his face in close up [in my head] and how I was going to film it. So I thought, actually, he’s got to be the ‘wide-eyed rabbit in the headlights,’ you know? He’s perfect for that.
And I was introduced to Callum because we’ve got the same agent in America. I had seen Callum in a TV series fifteen years ago, Glue [2014], which I had initially watched to look at a different actor, for a film that was in development and is not happening [anymore]. And I said to Mary [Woodvine], “That other guy; he’s great, because he’s an enigma”. [The way he played the character in Glue,] I didn’t know what was going on. There’s mystery, there’s a past there, and there’s an edge. He does so much by doing so little, and by being still.
So when our agent said, “Do you want to meet Callum?,” I met him straight away. I thought, ‘He is Liam and George is Nick.’ They didn’t know each other. I said to Cal, “Do you know George?” He said, “I met him in a cinema line once, but we’ve never [properly] met.” So what was lovely was, when I first met him, I thought – and I said to Mary – ‘They’re so different.’ And then, the more I got to know them, I realised that on the surface, they’re very different, but they’re very similar souls.
They’ve got the same soul, which was great, because the more I worked on the film, and the script, and the shooting, and the editing, the more I realised that Nick and Liam are two parts of one character in the way that these guys are.
Oh, I love this so much! What do you think it is that makes Callum and George have ‘the same soul’?
M.J.: They’re very similar. Maybe not similar personalities, but I love that parallel: they’re both very open people, who are incredibly kind and generous. I think they really connected with each other as well. The most valuable thing that I’ve got out of this film is meeting those two. I remember saying to Mary, “It’s amazing, isn’t it? Out of this film, I’ve got these two amazing friends.” We talk, we message each other almost every day, and we have [been doing this] since we were in pre-production. I don’t know whether that’s common or not, but that’s the most important thing for me: the friendship that’s come out of it.
Callum and George, are there any scenes that were particularly challenging for you?
Callum Turner: I think any time you are challenged emotionally, you have to go to a place that can be painful. I’m thinking of one specific scene George’s character tries and convince me [to do something] in front of the baby. That was a challenging moment because of the places that I was going, and the things that I was thinking about. And then, physically, it was the storm scene, which was a night shoot. We were there till 6: 00 in the morning every day, drenched. That was probably the most difficult thing we had to go.
George MacKay: Under the hold [of the ship] as well.
C.T.: Oh yeah. That [scene] was really interesting because it was the end of the shoot. I had such an amazing time working with all these people. As the film starts to wrap up, normally you want to go, because it’s just the natural ending of things. But here, I didn’t want to leave it. Those scenes, for me, were really emotional because I knew that it was getting closer and closer to the end.
George MacKay and Callum Turner on the ‘Stillness’ and Genres of Rose of Nevada
This feels like a very introspective experience for your characters, as they don’t talk much, and most of their journeys are ‘internal’, taking place in their heads. Was it as lonely as an experience to shoot it as it looks like as you watch it?
George MacKay: It really wasn’t! Cal and I get on very well, and community is one of the biggest themes of the film, together with time, and all the other aspects – and Mark builds that community. As Cal said, I always felt like we were the new boyfriends at the wedding, if you know what I mean? [smiles] You come into this family, you’re meeting everyone, and you’re taken in. It all felt very held, and comfortable, and happy: it was a very happy shoot. But it’s great that the loneliness translates, because I do think there is a nightmarish quality to what happens, especially for my character: it’s a nightmare. The fact that that translates, and you feel that loneliness, is great.
I’ve also heard some people refer to Rose of Nevada as a sci-fi movie.
Callum Turner: I love that they think that this is science fiction, because for me, this is a horror movie. This is a ghost story. And I love that. That’s what I love about the script, and about Mark: he doesn’t make you feel anything. He lets you breathe as an audience; he lets you come to your own conclusion and have your personal relationship to the story. You think it’s a sci-fi? I love it. There definitely are sci-fi elements in it. Me, I think it’s a ghost story. And there are questions that we’re still asking each other [looks at George]: did this even happen? Is this a dream? Is this a ghost story? Is this reality? Is it a sci-fi? Is it aliens? We don’t know. We would say to Mark, “I think I’ve got it. I think I know what this is.” And he’d go, “maybe”.
Oh I can relate to that! When I watched the film, I was explaining it all to my friends because I was so sure I had ‘gotten’ it, then I came home and read the director’s statement, and… It was completely different!
George MacKay: That’s what we did too! [laughs] That is the beautiful thing about this film. There is this story that you have a personal relationship to.
Did you get any memorable directions from Mark when you were shooting the film?
G. M.: What’s beautiful about all of our interpretations is that… I think ‘I’ve got’ Mark. I know exactly where he is, who he is… But it could be entirely wrong. I said one of these things to Mark. I was like, “You know, there’s this scene, where he goes something like ‘this’, but actually it’s suddenly ‘this’, and… He sort of took a pause, and he just went, “Could be.” [everyone laughs] “Oh, okay, all right, cool.” That’s it. “Could be” was my best direction. [smiles]
C.T.: But there’s something in that, you know? [looks at George] When I did Green Room [2015], there was a scene with Anton [Yelchin] where he gets his arm cut. In the script, I was the only one who was meant to cry. We shot it chronologically, and we got to my point, and everyone else had cried. Jeremy [Saulnier, the director] came up to me in the morning and was like, “You know, you’ve got to cry today.” I was like, “Yeah.” [pauses] He was like, … “Don’t cry.” I was like, “Okay.”
I was two years into acting, you know? So I went up to him on the set and I said, “So, if I’m not going to cry, what do you want me to do?” And he took out the sides [the parts of the script that were going to be shot on that day], looked at them for about a minute, and didn’t say anything. And then the DP came over and interrupted him, and that was it. I was like, “Oh, great.” But that was the best bit of directing that I got, because actually, what happened was in the moment: I just reacted, and I learned something in that moment.
It’s like when Mark doesn’t give us a specific thing: you just react and you’re just being present. I think that’s part of the trick in this film: to be as present as possible in each moment. That’s the goal in acting anyway, but specifically with this, there’s a stillness that Mark can create the story with. As an actor, I’m always like, “I’ve got to be explosive, and I’ve got to be interesting with [this scene].” And then I always give the director a simple [take on that scene] too. Normally, that’s the one they use, because they’re building a story. They don’t want it to be going crazy.
The Costumes in Rose of Nevada
I think the costumes in the film [from costume designer Jo Thompson, of This is England] really helped convey the characters’ journeys as well.
George MacKay: Costumes mean so much to me. My mom used to work in costume, and I work with an amazing costume designer.
To me, a costume is acting encapsulated. It’s a first impression, and what that first impression says, and how that reverberates. Then, it’s what’s underneath that first impression, and why the character has chosen this. Does he usually have the capacity to change what they wear? If so, what are they trying to say? What are they trying to hide? What are the means that they use? What are the rules within which they dress themselves, and how do they provoke that?
There wasn’t a huge budget, or a huge amount of time for Joe, our costume designer, with this: here, it was textures and shapes. But there was something about the baggy jeans that I wore. We tried all this stuff: there was probably a pair of jeans, and then, suddenly, I had these really baggy jeans: the crotch was really low, and they were so oversize without the belt. They were this weighty, flappy shape. As soon as I put them on, and the boots as well, suddenly, [the character was] there.
Callum Turner: [jokingly] Are you saying the fish overalls aren’t fashionable?
I think that everything that George has said is spot on. But I do love the imagery of the yellow overalls with the blue gloves. I think it’s really specific.
Mark, I was so intrigued by the movements of the red hat, which gets passed around to so many people! Was this a conscious choice?
Mark Jenkin: I had this idea of a hat that would be red and faded. And it’s like the chicken and the egg [dilemma of which one came first], or the Escher’s steps [an optical illusion where you can’t tell if the staircases are ascending or descending, and how] Where did the hat come from in the first place? It just goes round and round. I thought, ‘It’s great, and it’s really iconic.’
Then I finished the edit and someone sent me a picture of Harry Dean Stanton from Paris, Texas [1984]. He said, “I know where you got it from!” I thought, ‘Sh*t.’ Because everybody said that I’d ripped off the red jacket in Enys Men from Don’t Look Now [1973]. I was like, ‘Oh, have I?’ But now I thought, ‘With a hat, it’s definitely my idea.’ But it turns out that I’ve ripped it off again! [laughs] Guys, I’m really sorry.
“We smile because we don’t want people to know that we’re in pain” – The Humour of Rose of Nevada
Can I ask you about the humor in the film? I was surprised by how much I laughed.
C. T. I always try to make things funny, especially in a film like this, because I think that that’s life. I mean, you’ve sat here for twenty minutes, and we’ve laughed a lot, and we smile because we don’t want people to know that we’re in pain, or we’re hiding something. I think that’s an important part of portraying a human being. I love seeing a big old smile on camera. It’s something that I can relate to instead of it just being one thing. I always try to bring that.
G.M.: I I think sometimes, with comedy, if you play it serious, then you could laugh at the situation, where if I played the joke, it’d be like laughing at the punchline.
C.T.: I’m always laughing before I get to the punchline! [everyone laughs]
G.M.: I told my favorite joke to Mark and Mary last night, and I laughed at the punchline.
C.T.: What was the joke?
G.M.: I can’t tell you: it was about five minutes long!
C.T.: It’s a five-minute joke? [laughs]
G.M.: We’ll be late for the film! [to Callum] I’ll tell you later!
Thank you so much for speaking with us!
This interview was edited for length and clarity.
Rose of Nevada had its World Premiere at the Venice Film Festival on August 30, 2025. The film, which is currently having its North American Premiere at TIFF, and will be screened at the New York Film Festival on October 1, and at the BFI London Film Festival on October 13. Read our review of the film!
Header credits: Callum Turner and George MacKay in a still from Rose of Nevada / Director Mark Jenkin shooting the film (Protagonist Pictures)
