THE ROOM NEXT DOOR (BFI LFF #11) | Review

 Almodóvar is a singular filmmaking talent whose films are often described as campy, irreverent and bold, which utilise melodrama and look into the absurdity of domestic situations, particularly with complicated and well-rounded female characters. Dissecting the history and culture of Spain throughout his filmography and serving as one of the definitive filmmakers of the country, it seems interesting for him to foray into making his first English-language feature as his films are usually described as undeniably Spanish and see how his signature style would translate. 


With a compelling screenplay looking into a topical issue, alongside two phenomenal performances, The Room Next Door is another stellar entry into the canon of Almodóvar’s melodramatic works where none of his quirks gets lost in translation and the director’s flair and panache for dark humour and human observations are executed with near perfection. 
 
The story details the lives of two estranged friends, Martha and Ingrid, who cross paths after one learns of the other’s terminal cancer diagnosis bringing them close together again. Once Martha discovers that her cancer is inoperable, she decides to end her life with the help of a euthanasia pill and requests Ingrid’s assistance in being with her during her final days.
 
Almodóvar’s irreverent sense of humour manages to tow the balancing act of portraying a complex and topical issue of euthanasia and assisted suicide with light-hearted earnestness and a genuine importance to the characters, where he doesn’t shy away from the severity and rather plays on it with an ethical human understanding. Mortality and the acceptance of death is a prevalent theme within the film as the two lead characters grapple with this concept in different ways. Martha and Ingrid discuss the topic in detail and how it relates to the former’s decision to end her life, continuously debating the serious nature of the idea and the repercussions it will have. Throughout the film, there are recurring motifs alluding to death from Ingrid’s book detailing her acceptance of death - even though this isn’t apparent in reality - the wartime stint and eventual demise of Martha’s ex-boyfriend, to Martha’s own wartime journalism being so close to death, this reflects how ubiquitous it is and central to the film’s message. 
 
The film’s themes are further elevated by the incredible performances of Tilda Swinton and Julianne Moore, who offer such subtlety towards their characters portrayed and the situations each of them finds themselves in. The former organising a farewell holiday for herself before ultimately ending her life, and the latter supporting her terminally-ill friend in her decision and residing in the room next door, these two lead performances offer complexity through raw human emotion and poised sorrow. 
 
The signature visual aesthetic of Almodóvar permeates throughout film with bright and vivid colours from its vibrant costuming choices to the colourful production design, they further elevate the camp sensibilities of the director and make it another visually arresting feature of his filmography. Furthermore, the score is perfectly paired with the unfolding drama on screen and truly captures your attention after its first beats. Scored by Alberto Iglesias – who also contributed to Almodóvar’s previous feature, Parallel Mothers – the effective use of the score is similar here as it in the aforementioned film, where the tension between the characters and the situation they find themselves is elevated in the strong and sweeping musicality of the score and wraps the audience in the grand and emotional feelings of the film. 
 
BFI LFF # 11


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