The Room Next Door (2024)
After an impressive career of over 4-decades, Spanish filmmaker Pedro Almodóvar changes things up for his 23rd feature directorial effort, The Room Next Door, which makes the filmmaker's English-language full-length debut. Adapting Sigrid Nunez's 2020 novel, What Are You Going Through, The Room Next Door follows an author named Ingrid (Julianne Moore) who reconnects with an old friend named Martha (Tilda Swinton) who has recently been diagnosed with stage three cervical cancer. As treatments fail Martha and her quality of life begins to go down the drain, Martha decides to take action and get a pill off the black market which will help her die on her own terms when she is ready. Her one request, however, is for Ingrid, who has a fear of death, to join her and be present in the house when it is time. Once Ingrid reluctantly agrees to help Martha, the pair travel to an extravagant and isolated forest house that Martha has rented for a month. Sometime over this month, Martha will feel she is ready and take the pill, letting Ingrid know the act is done when her door is closed. While they wait for this time, the two grow closer as Ingrid tries to prepare herself for when she will go upstairs and see her friend is gone.
While Almodóvar might be trying something new with the spoken language of the film, much of the film sits comfortably in line with the iconic look and style one would expect from the director. Once again, the film is vibrant and lavish in its colors and visual language. Almodóvar teams with cinematographer Eduard Grau (Boy Erased, Passing, A Single Man), costume designer Bina Daigeler (All About My Mother, TÁR, Volver), and production designer Inbal Weinberg (Blue Valentine, Suspiria, Three Billboards Outside Ebbing, Missouri) to craft a true gem of a cinematic piece which becomes even more notable against the backdrop of the often dull modern world of visual cinema. It is almost inspiring to see how with simple choices, Almodóvar brings to life an elevated world that pops on the big screen.
Not only does The Room Next Door embrace Almodóvar's sensibilities visually which have defined his career, but the film also speaks to his skills in building dialogue and narrative. Quite emotionally raw while also wisely interjecting needed moments of levity and camp, the film is incredibly watchable with a clear personality that both reflects the authenticity of life while also adding a perfectly balanced cinematic flair. In life, even in the saddest moments of life, there are moments of comedy and humor where everything gets lighter. These brief glimpses of a life without the pain and suffering that is promised to come just around the corner. They dance like snowflakes falling from the sky only to melt away, back to the darker truth of what is happening.
Compared to a film like Azazel Jacobs' His Three Daughters which also looks at the emotional vulnerability of the days before an impending death, The Room Next Door offers far more of these moments of vivacity and life, but it also continually goes right back to death's door each morning as Ingrid has to climb those stairs and see if Martha's door is open or closed. This is a genius narrative device to keep the audience and Ingrid on their toes, constantly reminded that one day the door will be shut and Martha will be gone.
Besides the impending thoughts and conversations surrounding death, the two try to enjoy the time they have. From sharing stories from their past to discussing their current work as writers, these conversations slowly not only warm these characters up to each other after years of not speaking but also creates the feeling that the audience is watching two real people with layers of history and experience. The audience cannot escape the feeling that they are not watching two characters, but rather are in the room with two real humans going through every up and down like a third figure in the house. From the sighs of relief every morning that Martha's door is open to the awkwardness when a conversation about death appears and seemingly ruins a sweet moment, it is hard not to get caught up in the drama and feel involved.
An especially large conversation regarding Martha's daughter, Michelle, is revisited multiple times throughout the film. Stemming back from conflict as Michelle was growing up regarding who her father was and the events that led to him leaving her mom, there is an awkwardness and distance between the two that Martha doesn't seem interested in closing ahead of her death. While this specific side-plot does see meaningful development and tension, The Room Next Door is filled with a number of tangents and side-plots that meander without adding anything overly worthy to the narrative outside of padding the runtime. From Ingrid's relationship with a man named Damian (John Turturro) who is dedicated to trying to wake people up to the environmental crisis happening across the planet to continued conversations over what the plan will be for Ingrid legally after Martha does die so she is not charged with any crime, there are points where it feels like the film wanders away from its focus and point.
Elevating the screenplay are two brilliant performances by Moore and Swinton with Swinton especially shining bright as an emotional powerhouse of tragedy and spirit. Martha is not depressed or quiet to die, she is determined and confident as she feels her ability to enjoy life fade away. Due to the cancer and the intense chemo treatments, Martha can no longer write. She can no longer read. She can no longer enjoy music. She can't even really walk around the beautiful property she has rented. No matter if Martha decided to take the pill or not, she would not be truly living. Moore is given a more reactive role but is also quite strong as she tries to remain a backbone of hope and strength for Martha even as she internally crumbles under the pressure. While maybe not the most complex dynamic seen in Almodóvar's filmography, this pairing is undeniably successful and delivers two of the best performances of the year.
It is quite remarkable that after such a long and consistent career, that Almodóvar still has absolute gems to deliver like The Room Next Door. Featuring an incredible pair of performances by Moore and Swinton, a strong visual language, and an effective screenplay that both entertains and leaves an impact, it is hard to argue that The Room Next Door doesn't deliver everything one would want from an Almodóvar feature, becoming one of the director's best works.
While Almodóvar might be trying something new with the spoken language of the film, much of the film sits comfortably in line with the iconic look and style one would expect from the director. Once again, the film is vibrant and lavish in its colors and visual language. Almodóvar teams with cinematographer Eduard Grau (Boy Erased, Passing, A Single Man), costume designer Bina Daigeler (All About My Mother, TÁR, Volver), and production designer Inbal Weinberg (Blue Valentine, Suspiria, Three Billboards Outside Ebbing, Missouri) to craft a true gem of a cinematic piece which becomes even more notable against the backdrop of the often dull modern world of visual cinema. It is almost inspiring to see how with simple choices, Almodóvar brings to life an elevated world that pops on the big screen.
Not only does The Room Next Door embrace Almodóvar's sensibilities visually which have defined his career, but the film also speaks to his skills in building dialogue and narrative. Quite emotionally raw while also wisely interjecting needed moments of levity and camp, the film is incredibly watchable with a clear personality that both reflects the authenticity of life while also adding a perfectly balanced cinematic flair. In life, even in the saddest moments of life, there are moments of comedy and humor where everything gets lighter. These brief glimpses of a life without the pain and suffering that is promised to come just around the corner. They dance like snowflakes falling from the sky only to melt away, back to the darker truth of what is happening.
Compared to a film like Azazel Jacobs' His Three Daughters which also looks at the emotional vulnerability of the days before an impending death, The Room Next Door offers far more of these moments of vivacity and life, but it also continually goes right back to death's door each morning as Ingrid has to climb those stairs and see if Martha's door is open or closed. This is a genius narrative device to keep the audience and Ingrid on their toes, constantly reminded that one day the door will be shut and Martha will be gone.
Besides the impending thoughts and conversations surrounding death, the two try to enjoy the time they have. From sharing stories from their past to discussing their current work as writers, these conversations slowly not only warm these characters up to each other after years of not speaking but also creates the feeling that the audience is watching two real people with layers of history and experience. The audience cannot escape the feeling that they are not watching two characters, but rather are in the room with two real humans going through every up and down like a third figure in the house. From the sighs of relief every morning that Martha's door is open to the awkwardness when a conversation about death appears and seemingly ruins a sweet moment, it is hard not to get caught up in the drama and feel involved.
An especially large conversation regarding Martha's daughter, Michelle, is revisited multiple times throughout the film. Stemming back from conflict as Michelle was growing up regarding who her father was and the events that led to him leaving her mom, there is an awkwardness and distance between the two that Martha doesn't seem interested in closing ahead of her death. While this specific side-plot does see meaningful development and tension, The Room Next Door is filled with a number of tangents and side-plots that meander without adding anything overly worthy to the narrative outside of padding the runtime. From Ingrid's relationship with a man named Damian (John Turturro) who is dedicated to trying to wake people up to the environmental crisis happening across the planet to continued conversations over what the plan will be for Ingrid legally after Martha does die so she is not charged with any crime, there are points where it feels like the film wanders away from its focus and point.
Elevating the screenplay are two brilliant performances by Moore and Swinton with Swinton especially shining bright as an emotional powerhouse of tragedy and spirit. Martha is not depressed or quiet to die, she is determined and confident as she feels her ability to enjoy life fade away. Due to the cancer and the intense chemo treatments, Martha can no longer write. She can no longer read. She can no longer enjoy music. She can't even really walk around the beautiful property she has rented. No matter if Martha decided to take the pill or not, she would not be truly living. Moore is given a more reactive role but is also quite strong as she tries to remain a backbone of hope and strength for Martha even as she internally crumbles under the pressure. While maybe not the most complex dynamic seen in Almodóvar's filmography, this pairing is undeniably successful and delivers two of the best performances of the year.
It is quite remarkable that after such a long and consistent career, that Almodóvar still has absolute gems to deliver like The Room Next Door. Featuring an incredible pair of performances by Moore and Swinton, a strong visual language, and an effective screenplay that both entertains and leaves an impact, it is hard to argue that The Room Next Door doesn't deliver everything one would want from an Almodóvar feature, becoming one of the director's best works.