Rehearsal's narrative as explained in the synopsis never really comes into focus. The 16 actresses never coalesce into a single character, or even an amalgamated one. Instead there's the distinct feelings of 16 different women doing their natural routines, such as sleeping, texting, primping, eating, worrying, drawing, etc.
We're invited to observe, watching these rituals and tasks with fresh eyes and read into each character through mostly their settings and behavior rather than any narrative momentum. It can be wearying, but surprisingly revelatory-- one woman making her bed is awash in fascinating little details that allow you to read a history in simply her room and methods, while another woman attending her nails and her dog is understated in its gentleness.
I won't lie and say that the movie is a thrill ride by any means. This is probably the most esoteric porn I've ever seen. Clarke both fetishizes each actress in pieces-- breasts, legs, hinder-- and then reconnects them into distinctly unsexual poses. This is contrasted to their mutual desire to become actresses, a glamorous profession distinctly unreal compared to their frustrated daily lives.
The women in this film aren't lonely, per se, but distinctly alone. Despite the multitude of actresses, that and a sense of ambition does permeate most, as well as the feeling of impatience. Rehearsals may be an unsuccessful experiment and is definitely not for anyone with a twitchy attention span, but for viewers who like to lap up subtleties told with an expressive lens, it's an intriguing treat.