THE ROOM NEXT DOOR - Mark Reviews Movies

The Room Next Door, Sony Pictures Classics

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Review by Mark Dujsik | December 19, 2024

Ingrid (Julianne Moore) is afraid of death, which she sees as "unnatural." Her friend Martha (Tilda Swinton) is dying of cancer and wants Ingrid to be with her until the end, which is fast approaching. That's the setup of writer/director Pedro Almodóvar's The Room Next Door, a movie that eventually confronts the realities of dying and death but, like that first half of the central duo, ultimately seems uncertain about how the handle the subject.

The story comes from Sigrid Nunez's novel What Are You Going Through, and with Almodóvar helming it, the movie keeps an intense focus on these characters, as they wrestle with the inevitable in different ways, and also tries to weave a tapestry of memories, dreams, culture, morality, and bigger ideas about the world and humanity alongside them. It's a bit cluttered, which makes a certain kind of sense. After all, both characters want to keep the one thing on both of their minds—Martha's imminent death—at bay, but at a certain point, it starts to feel as if Almodóvar is hesitant to approach the topic, too.

That's odd, since the filmmaker is no stranger to tough subject matter, including death and, as this story gradually reveals as a secondary consideration, the difficulties of both being a parent and a child to one. Here, Martha is the mother of an estranged daughter, who never knew her father and has held something of a grudge against her mother for that being the case. Learning about that history is the first obvious sign that Almodóvar's screenplay might either be reaching for more than it can handle or want to evade what's right in front of it by way of some other details.

The story of Martha and her daughter's history comes shortly after Ingrid, a successful author currently at a book tour stop in New York City, reunites with her old friend, whom she hasn't seen or talked to in many years. Hearing from a mutual friend that Martha was diagnosed with cancer and is currently in the hospital, Ingrid makes a stop to visit her. They catch up but don't really need to.

When they talk, it's as if no time has passed, and the way Moore and Swinton give us that sense, even as their characters proceed to provide a lot of back story and exposition, is one of the real pleasures of the movie. The two play intelligent, thoughtful, and compassionate people, connecting over how much they have in common and trying to help each other through the pain of, for Martha, confronting death and of, for Ingrid, knowing that her friend will die very soon.

Those moments exist throughout the story, when it isn't distracted or diverted by other things. The first one is a lengthy flashback, in which Martha tells the story of her young romance with her daughter's father, who was drafted to fight in Vietnam, came home traumatized, and, before Martha could tell him and her daughter about each other, died trying to rescue imagined people in deadly peril. None of these specific details really matter to the story of Martha's cancer or, really, to her relationship with her daughter, but it is a haunting diversion, at least.

Some others are less, including Ingrid's relationship with Damian (John Turturro), a climate scientist who has dated both women and in whom Ingrid confides when Martha's plan for dying is revealed. After an experimental drug fails and cancer spreads, she decides to die on her own terms—buying a euthanasia pill on the dark web, renting a remote house in some scenic woods, taking the pill when she feels it's time and before the pain becomes unmanageable. She wants Ingrid to accompany her to the rental home so that she's not alone in these final days and someone can contact the authorities upon her death.

With all of that in place, does the movie need a lengthy lecture from Damian about the state of the planet and its own encroaching death? Does it even need the third act, when the material almost transforms into a minor thriller before re-raising the initial specter of Martha's lack of connection to her daughter? Almodóvar certainly believes so, as both happen here, keep the central relationship from really developing, and rush the conclusion before the story can really dig into these characters and this situation.

When it is focused on those elements, though, there's plenty to take from the movie. Moore and Swinton give the sense of an already solid bond deepening with each new conversation and attempt to fulfill whatever wish Martha has at any given moment. She doesn't want to talk about the pain or the inevitable end of this getaway, and that suits Ingrid just fine, because, while she wrote a book about wrestling with the concept of death, she still hasn't accepted it or lost her fear of it. The two just spend time together and try to make the best of the little time they have left for this friendship.

It's lovely at its best, which seems odd to say about movie dealing with dying and suicide, but that's one of Almodóvar's skills as a filmmaker: to find the humanity in scenarios that sometimes don't seem to possess any. The Room Next Door possesses it but, in the way the movie shifts so frequently, doesn't entirely trust it.

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