“You don’t mind that I’m not in the room next door?”
So asks Ingrid, played by Julianne Moore, to her close friend Martha, played by Tilda Swinton, midway through “The Room Next Door.” Martha — who has terminal cervical cancer — has asked Ingrid an unusual question of her own, centering around whether she will stay in the titular “room next door.” This question powers the film’s exploration of whether, and when, selfless love can turn into exploitation. In this way, the strength of “The Room Next Door” comes from how it consistently balances both sadness and sweetness.
Written and directed by well-known Spanish filmmaker Pedro Almodóvar in his first full length English feature, “The Room Next Door” chronicles the bittersweet reunion of close friends Ingrid and Martha. Almodóvar wrote the script based upon Sigrid Nunez’s book “What Are You Going Through.” After premiering at the 81st Venice International Film Festival this past September, the feature won the Golden Lion for Best Film.
The film opens with Ingrid, an author, at a signing for her latest book. In line is her friend Stella, who mentions offhand that their mutual friend Martha has recently been diagnosed with cancer. Ingrid and Martha once worked together at the same New York City magazine but lost contact when Ingrid became a writer and Martha a war reporter.
When Ingrid visits Martha at the hospital, the two women reignite a warm friendship in a series of emotional, yet never saccharine conversations. These interactions— at the hospital, in a neighborhood community garden and in Martha’s apartment — develop Martha’s character further. They also weave in anecdotal flashback scenes as Martha recounts stories to Ingrid.
The flashbacks illuminate Martha’s past relationship with her boyfriend Fred, the father of her daughter Michelle, and his tragic death after returning from fighting in the Vietnam War.
Almodóvar sets these scenes like fairy tales, with simple characters and uncanny locations. A younger Martha speaks to Fred with wide, unblinking eyes. Fred drives a bright red Dodge, its color a shock on the screen, through the plains, suddenly happening on a lone house engulfed in flames. These exaggerated physical moves and heightened silhouettes masterfully work to incorporate a jarring tone into the film.
By using flashbacks instead of simply summarizing character backstory, audiences can better understand the severity of Martha’s traumatic past, and how, coupled with her experience as a war reporter, she now exhibits eerie ambivalence towards the idea of her own death.
The subject matter continues to darken, taking a turn when midway through, Martha asks Ingrid a special request. Martha informs Ingrid of her plan to die on her own terms by using a euthanasia pill purchased on the dark web. Martha would like Ingrid to accompany her to a rented house in upstate New York for a month, in order to be in “the room next door” when Martha passes away.
The uncanniness of the request is made less creepy and almost practical as Swinton discusses her illness, voice and facial muscles quivering, yet without crying — as if she’s simply struggling to lift a heavy weight.
“This is the way we’ve been taught to see cancer. As a fight … people should see this as my way of fighting,” Martha asserts.
Ingrid agrees to join Martha, and the two women travel to a gorgeous house in the woods. For most of the film so far, Swinton’s performance has been more enthralling, while Moore, though a consistently strong actress, often pales in comparison due to her character’s almost faultless support of Martha’s decisions. But here in the woods, Moore begins to shine as we see how Ingrid’s deep love for her friend is simultaneously causing her immense pain.
In one gripping scene, Ingrid believes Martha to be dead. Amidst the silence of the early morning, she sits on a lounge chair, crying. The volume of her intense, full body sobs make Martha’s silent reappearance terrifying. Additionally, the lighting illuminates Ingrid and casts Martha, standing behind the screen door in a white dress, in shadow. This visual choice works to frame Martha almost like a ghost — both in reality and in Ingrid’s subconsciousness. Martha greets Ingrid and suggests that Ingrid view that moment as a sort of rehearsal for her eventual death. The whiplash created by this moment calls into question the purity of this friendship — even in your darkest hour, is it possible to ask for too much?
Despite the heavy topics at hand, the film incorporates comedy. As Martha leans on Ingrid in her time of tragedy, Ingrid looks for support from others. Notably, she finds it in her ex-lover Damian, a man Martha also used to date. Damian’s firm nihilism about the state of the world offers welcome moments of humor, and his character is also an interesting contrast for Ingrid to define herself against. In an ending conversation with Damian, she asserts her belief in her decision to stand by Martha.
“I’m learning from her,” Ingrid claims.
Yet even still, the film once again complicates Ingrid’s apparent selflessness by alluding to what she, as an author, might gain after Martha’s passing.
The film’s continuous juxtaposition of kindness and selfishness also manifests itself visually. Throughout the film, bright colors are used to convey dark subject material. Color theory — the idea that the use of color within a film evokes specific moods — traditionally associates dark and moody stories with subdued cool colors, like blue. Almodóvar turns this psychology on its head by telling a story about mortality in cheerful reds, greens and blues. From Fred’s red Dodge, to Ingrid and Martha’s contrasting red and green sweaters in another scene, to a bowl of fruit arranged like a still life painting — the rich palette of the movie is strikingly beautiful. In real life, the film suggests, death comes simultaneously alongside joy.
As the film concludes, featuring a late-stage appearance by Martha’s uncannily identical daughter Michelle, as well as parting shots of snow falling in spring, “The Room Next Door” cohesively maintains a blend of mysterious and heartfelt sensibility.
“The Room Next Door” is a standout film from an internationally respected Spanish director with complex performances from two Oscar award winning actresses. Considering loyalty, friendship and the desire to write our own narratives, the film doesn’t categorize itself neatly within genres, and is made all the better for it.
“The Room Next Door” is set for a limited release in theaters Dec. 20.
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