The Room Next Door is a film about a friendship. Martha (Tilda Swinton), a war journalist, is in treatment for stage 4 ovarian cancer and is visited by Ingrid (Julianne Moore), an author and an old friend. Martha reveals that she has obtained a euthanasia pill and asks Ingrid to help her with the logistics. They will need to stay at the same vacation house so that Ingrid can find Martha’s body at the appropriate time and contact the authorities.
It’s the type of premise that Pedro Almodóvar thrives on; he is a great director, in part, because he can spotlight sensitive issues in a thoughtful and considered way. All About My Mother features a strong storyline with a transgender sex worker, and Bad Education does the same with sexual abuse at Catholic boarding schools. His more transgressive films, like The Skin I Live In and Talk To Me, are not as careful about their subject matter, but they certainly aren’t lazy. So what the hell happened here?
The main issue with this film is very stilted dialogue. The writing is the main culprit, but it is also delivered in a way that does it no favors. There is no attempt to make exposition seem natural, the characters practically announce everything the viewer needs to know. Characters are constantly telling close friends things they would already know, simply for the viewers’ benefit. No characters show any restraint or inner life either – any thoughts they have are immediately announced as dialogue, no matter how private the thought may be.
The dialogue feels like it was written by a first-timer with no grasp for the fundamentals of believability. But because it’s Almodóvar’s script, I’m willing to give him the benefit of the doubt and say it was an intentional choice. Perhaps he is using kitsch as a tool and leaning into a soap opera aesthetic. Not all films need to do the same thing – some lean into realism, others create a world with its own rules. But even taking the movie on its own terms, I would call it a failed experiment, at best.
The bottom line is that The Room Next Door’s style puts it at odds with the thematic material it presents. Euthanasia is a rich subject to explore that has been largely ignored by our great filmmakers (Clint Eastwood notwithstanding). The plot itself has tremendous potential, with its focus on friendship and the impending death bringing new things to light. All of this calls for more immersion, while the dialogue seems pretty intent at keeping viewers at a distance.
The performances are a bit confusing as well. Tilda Swinton and Julianne Moore are two of our great actresses who are capable of elevating terrible dialogue to make it come off as natural. Julianne Moore, in particular, is no stranger to melodrama. But neither actress is trying to smooth things out, really – which does make it feel like this was Almodóvar’s vision and intention.
Martha apparently had a career as a war correspondent, and therefore is no stranger to death being around the corner. You’d never know it from her behavior in the film, though, as she is a raw nerve and incredibly vulnerable. It could be that death makes fools of us all, but you’d think that she would at the very least be frustrated with her inability to remain cool and composed. The film has none of that.
At least The Room Next Door looks gorgeous. It’s got Almodóvar’s trademark visual flair, with an emphasis on primary colors. I’ll be thinking about a sweater that Tilda Swinton wears for a long time. The shooting locations are also immaculately chosen, including the vacation rental our ladies are staying in.
As the runtime for The Room Next Door wore on, once I’d already determined that it wasn’t working for me, it sort of crept up on me. The wasted potential of the premise is a bit hard to get over, of course. But once it became clear that the movie wasn’t going to do what I wanted, I accepted it, and it wasn’t a bad way to spend a couple of hours. It’s simply not the film that its very important subject matter deserves.
