Final Rating: 2.5/5
Even at our most healthy, the intrusive thoughts sometimes permeate our minds wondering how we would wish to die. Do we want to go out in a blaze of glory, doing what we love and on top of the world? Do we just want to make sure it is peaceful and comfortable? Do we want our death to be remembered in some way? These questions are perfectly normal to think about, even if they can often be taboo.
But what happens when you start having to actually prepare for the end? Most people have been around someone that is terminally ill and we laud those that fight endlessly against whatever may be ravishing against them. At a certain point, anyone being given a terminal diagnosis must also contend with the fact that they will eventually not overcome and instead succumb. Then it becomes a waiting game. Will you try to cross off bucket list items or make peace with all your loved ones? Or is there a different route to take?
In Pedro Almodóvar’s English language feature debut, The Room Next Door, we have a pair of friends who are grappling with end of life decisions. Martha, played by Tilda Swinton, was a war journalist whose cancer diagnosis has turned into a death sentence. Ingrid, played by Julianne Moore, a novelist, was an old friend who visits Martha in the hospital and they end up reconnecting.
The two spend time catching each other up on their lives. Ingrid has just released a successful novel and Martha reveals the extent of the strained relationship that she and her adult daughter Michelle have. Eventually Martha has a very serious proposition to make, she doesn’t want to be reduced to someone who is incontinent and can’t remember a thing due the ravages of chemo for the off chance it might extend her life by a few extra months. She has secured a euthanasia drug that will let her go quietly in the night, but wants Ingrid to just be in the room next door as company.
After some internal and external debating about the validity of supporting Martha who is ready to pass on, Ingrid agrees to be there for her friend. Martha rents a massive house in upstate New York where they will stay together for a month. Martha will sleep with the door open, but if the door is closed that means the deed is done and she has already passed away.
What throws a wrench in this potential plan is that assisted suicide is still illegal in most of the United States (physician administered assisted suicide is only legal in ten states plus DC), so Martha has concocted a plan that involved leaving a letter to the police explaining how she procured the drug on the dark web and that Ingrid knew nothing about it, to exonerate her. All Ingrid has to do is stick to the story that she knew nothing about the plan and that she calls 911 as soon as she sees Martha’s body.
What follows is essentially a series of vignettes, almost every scene is Martha and Ingrid just talking about life, their shared past, lovers, family, work, creative interests and of course death. The hardest aspect is for Ingrid, who has to wake up every day wondering if she is going to find her friend now deceased and every conversation must be seen through the lens of whether or not Martha will pick that day as her last.
The hallmarks of an Almodóvar film are all here. The rich colour palette anchored by reds, greens and yellows bring vibrancy to every shot. A majority of his films are female lead and centering your first English language feature around Swinton and Moore, possibly two of the greatest female performers was a no-brainer casting decision. The film wildly fluctuates between melodrama and comedy with plenty of opportunities for emotionally draining scenes.
One thing mostly absent from this film is adding a queer lens, a hallmark of his career. Although one could argue the platonic friendship and house Ingrid and Martha share could be viewed in a sapphic way. There is one great Almodóvar joke of when Ingrid goes to a local gym and books a session with a trainer, the female receptionist lets her know she will really like him, cutting to a hunky Spanish man.
Everything on the surface should work for this film, the theme about life, death and friendship is infinitely relatable, the majestic setting of the rented home is as tranquil as it stunning, it features two of the most talented working performers (with a combined six Oscar nominations and two wins) and a delightful score from Almodóvar regular Alberto Iglesias. Yet for some reason the sum of its parts don’t quite add up.
Tilda Swinton for all her talent seems to be on a different wavelength that doesn’t quite match up to the rest of the film. When she leans into the melodrama it comes across as insincere in a way that someone like Penelope Cruz often shines at, and when the film is lighter there is an air of pretentiousness to her performance. There is also a final “twist” involving Swinton that really does not work at all. Julianne Moore succeeds in the role where Swinton often fails. She’s aloof and able to jump quickly between one beat to the next, something that Swinton lingers too long on.
There is a moment when there is an early scare involving Ingrid finding Martha’s bedroom door shut, and as an audience member we know it feels too early for Martha to exit the story but we must spend several minutes waiting for the reveal we know is coming that she is still alive. It is too telegraphed and isn’t an emotional gut punch to the audience that it is for Ingrid that it should be.
The film eventually has a tonal shift for the final few scenes, in a way that feels reminiscent to a recent Almodóvar film, Parallel Mothers, that also doesn’t quite work but overall is a much superior film to The Room Next Door.
After the disastrous short film Strange Way of Life last year, his real English language debut, it seems like there is a certain poetry to working in the Spanish language and in his native country of Spain that America and English don’t quite offer. Maybe it is his ideas not being able to be translated properly or maybe it is the history of the melodrama is just not as strong of a genre over here.
The Room Next Door unfortunately is too uneven, without enough emotional resonance for a film that has life and death stakes to it. The matching of Almodóvar, Swinton and Moore should be one made in heaven, instead it is mostly just uninteresting.
Thank you to Star PR and Sony Pictures Classics for the screener.
