by Cris Mora-Villa, Contributing Writer
When thinking of contemporary directors whose creative output often skews to the side of widespread acclaim, and whose same output simultaneously stretches far beyond my full scope of awareness, Pedro Almodóvar may perhaps sit at the intersection of that criteria. I had previously expressed a similar line of thought when discussing Hard Truths and the greater work of Mike Leigh. The reason why Almodóvar specifically comes to mind when pondering that description has to do with the sheer stature of the reputation he’s amassed. He is not the just living filmmaker with a career spanning six different decades, but he is (for me) decidedly the one individual whose uniquely oriented style and geographically distant modus operandi evokes a grander status from a generation very few filmmakers possess today. Auteurs like Terrence Malick and Clint Eastwood built their legacies almost exclusively on American soil. That, in some part, gives them greater direct access to the cultural zeitgeist, providing ample opportunity to establish themselves. The body of work from international filmmakers like Ken Loach or Marco Bellocchio extends past even Almodóvar’s, but they don’t quite possess the same level of name recognition on the domestic level, and more so embody the role of distinguished experts of the craft. In my eyes, the name Almodóvar can bear no other distinction than alongside Jean-Luc Goddard or Miloš Forman. So when it comes to his latest picture, The Room Next Door, there could be no possibility in which I would willingly miss out on that.
With 22 feature films in his pocket, Almodóvar arrives at an adaptation of Sigrid Nunez’s 2020 novel What Are You Going Through for his English-language debut feature. Alongside him are two of the most illustrious actors of their generation. Julianne Moore and Tilda Swinton have for many years produced some of the most enrapturing and intricately layered performances ever put to film across each of their respective filmographies. Their individual efforts here mark yet another ribbon in the trophy case that is their impressive catalog of performances. With recent evidence such as Problemista, May December, and The End, it can hardly be considered a surprise that Swinton and Moore would have visually zero difficulty in easing into these roles.
Melodrama can often be cited as a one of the foundational pillars of Almodóvar’s work. If for no other reason than the added bit of flare to the mise-en-scène of his movies, choosing to go in such a direction provides a palpable sense of confidence and foresight in how Almodóvar is able to establish the desired tone in his films. Having only watched his last three features, (this, along with Pain & Glory and Parallel Mothers) his films find their own balance of comedy and drama to best serve the overall vision driving them forward. The exact blend varies from picture to picture, but in the case of The Room Next Door” the scale very much leans towards comedy.
The movie follows acclaimed novelist Ingrid Parker (Moore) and esteemed war correspondent Martha Hunt (Swinton), as the pair suddenly reunite in New York City after many years, when it is discovered that Martha is succumbing to a terminal illness. With her limited remaining time, Martha asks Ingrid to assist her in planning her demise. As ostensibly grim as that summary may sound, it is important to remember this is still under the creative helm of Almodóvar, and so that all but guarantees this is no ordinary tragic tale. With the more distance I come to have from the film, the more I recognize and ultimately respect its almost rosy outlook on the end of human life as we know it. Mortality crosses through everyone’s mind at certain periods in life. The impending finality of it all can be a scary thought, for some too great a cloud to devote more than a modicum of mental space towards even thinking about. That’s more or less the perspective Ingrid enters the movie with, at best a passing thought in her own head to be mined for a potential novel until the subject of Martha’s disease is broached. In parallel with that beat of the story, Martha can do nothing but rack her brain with thoughts of her final days as they coalesce into a singular idea encroaching a finish line. The two former co-workers have been separated for decades, yet it’s a reunion of atypical circumstances that will ultimately test their resolve both within themselves and for each other.
If you zoom out to the broadest possible scope, the in-a-nutshell version for what one could take away from this narrative on a thematic level would be about death and the way it is perceived and subsequently handled when under its looming shadow. If you look further into the film to seek out something specific, you may not find too much there beyond that for transparency’s sake. This was at least my experience as the film progressed towards its final moments. Ultimately though, this bore little negative impact on my outlook towards the picture. Once it clicked for me that this was operating closer towards screwball comedy with glints of intellectual musings, rather than a mission statement piece with palpable emotional weight, then both the film and myself could settle into a rhythm of ease and embrace the vision Almodóvar is presenting on screen. On as many different levels as that vision will allow, The Room Next Door simply follows through on its whim like tempo to arrive from one inordinary conversation or situation to the next, and so on and so forth.
A tangential offshoot stemming from Almodóvar’s primary focus is the impact of embracing the role of an artist and the subsequent effects to be had on other areas of your life. This admittedly isn’t delved into with an accentuated precision, but rather a natural focal point for Martha and Ingrid to bounce off of as the notion of the all too powerful “what if” enters their conversations. In the diametrically opposed directions each woman would subsequently embark on in their adult lives, there comes to be some traces of curiosity for how they have arrived at the place for which they stand now. Ingrid is as successful now as she has ever been from what we are led to believe, but that perceived excellence, compared to Martha’s achievements, equates to an immense level of admiration towards the latter. The reciprocity from Ingrid comes not from potential that may have gone squandered, but mutual longing for a true friendship with space given for each to find comfort and safety in the other. Martha, on the brink of death as she knows it, looks to Ingrid for help with her own passing. Ingrid, shoulders the responsibility of helping her reach that end out of a bizarre kinship to her friend. Ideas of regrets naturally begin to brew within Martha, often revisiting internalized anguish in her past experiences both as mother and overseas in hostile war zones. In becoming a high standing figure who has likely shaped the culture through her chosen profession, the trajectory for Martha’s relative seclusion when met with the initial diagnosis almost feels like the work of fate dictating the most natural conclusion of Martha’s existence. This suspicion becomes all the more literalized when her daughter Michelle enters the movie towards the end in a moment that can only be described as so bewildering that it rotates into becoming brilliant.
Often staking a claim for its own importance in a number of scenes beyond the words that are bespoken are the film’s many striking images. Upscale New York is not an environment Almodóvar is used to filming in, as many of his other works maintain their firm roots to the land of Spain. Though production for a portion of the film did occur in Madrid, the spirit of the picture remains true to the ever-bustling New York City, just imbued with a soft overlay to match the intimacy of our characters. When so much of the dialogue skews meditative, the surrounding characteristics for how the picture will look on an aesthetic level can go in a myriad of directions. But through the collective uniformity of the set decoration, art production, and costume design, the weighty concepts that are being dealt with never stray from that classic melodrama Almodóvar is known for. With a moderate blend of natural cityscapes and soothingly textured sets that effectively summon the architectural atmosphere of its setting, the movie’s compositions are themselves a welcome sight to anyone with a taste for Almodóvar’s own pastiche. I for one was awestruck by the popping resplendence jetting from some of these images, themselves laden with a modern chic befitting to the sensibilities of the wintry season. It is simply a film that is too visually comforting to leave the mind once the credits begin to roll, and that is worth recognizing as a bastion of its own artistry.
Rating: High Side of Liked It
The Room Next Door is currently playing in theaters
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