Pedro Almodovar’s The Next Room immediately begins to impose its premise.
We meet Ingrid (Julianne Moore) as she signs copies of her new book. Ingrid learns that her dear friend Martha (Tilda Swinton) has been diagnosed with stage three cervical cancer. The two rekindle their friendship (it’s been some time since they last saw each other) and eventually become roommates.
As Martha’s health deteriorates, she warns Ingrid of what awaits her, specifically that if her door is locked in the morning, it will likely mean she is dead.
The Next Room is Almodovar’s first English-language film. The film won the Golden Lion at the Venice Film Festival and is based on Sigrid Nunez’s 2020 novel What Are You Going Through.
I had to see this twice, because I wasn’t sure it worked the first time. At first I felt that the dialogue was too polite and the presentation was too theatrical and not cinematic enough. Additionally, given how heavy the material is, I wasn’t sure that the lightness of tone and toned-down style (Almodovar’s films are usually saturated with color) would suit the story.
Revisiting the film, I found that not only did the opening scene set up the story and themes perfectly (a common trait in Almodovar’s work) but I was struck by an exchange between Ingrid and my client that I had somehow missed the first time around:
While signing her latest novel at the bookstore, a customer walked up to Ingrid, handed her a book, and as Ingrid was signing it, the customer asked her, “Can you write, so that it won’t happen again?” The agent then assured Ingrid that whatever happened would never happen again.
The moment hit me hard. Despite how many of Almodóvar’s films could be described as melodrama (not always a compliment), his best work is not only richly cinematic, but deeply sympathetic to his characters.
“The Next Room” is no different.
There are some flashbacks, but most of the film is like a theatrical piece, with Martha and Ingrid discussing the past and reflecting on the choices she has made. The flashbacks feel like a little melodrama, but there’s no camp, with Almodóvar toning down the pulp as much as possible.
Anyone remember why Almodovar “Tie Me Up!” Tie Me Up!’ (1990) was one of the first to earn an NC-17 rating and you’ll be as surprised as I was at how much restraint there is here.
Because Almodovar wastes so little time getting to the heart of the film, which is the lengthy conversations shared between Ingrid and Martha, the film contains little filler, invites us to enjoy the conversations and avoids being depressing. Bernard Herrmann’s score by Alberto Iglesias is an interesting touch, especially since this is not a thriller.
Let’s talk about Almodovar’s previous films, which usually showcase visual consistency and color-coordinated costumes and sets to perfection. You may forget the plot of an Almodóvar film, but you won’t forget what the film looks and feels like.
His best films are not just thrilling stories with great performances, but true expressions of cinema.
I cite “Top of the Hill” in Almodovar’s “Volver” (2006), “Broken Embrace” (2009), “Flower of My Secret” (1995), “The Skin I Live In” (2011) and his most recent works. The masterpiece “Parallel Mothers” (2021). Almodovar also has an affinity for Hitchcock, hence his most shocking films The Skin I Live In (featuring a towering role and the best turn of his career from Antonio Banderas) and Bad Education (2004).
While Almodovar’s latest work is far less glamorous than one would expect from such a maestro, it is among his most honest. Note the scene in which Ingrid meets an unexpectedly kind and sensitive personal trainer. The movie doesn’t need this scene but I’m glad it exists, because it gives us another window into Ingrid.
Swinton’s American accent is impeccable, as is his chemistry with Moore. Not surprisingly, both actresses are excellent here. The Next Room probably sounds like a “sickness of the week” TV movie in terms of plot description, but Almodovar’s handling of the material, even when it challenges our expectations of it, elevates it above the ordinary.
The flashbacks aren’t always great, and scenes with John Turturro, who plays Ingrid’s friend and former lover, succeed in opening up the story but the film didn’t need them. Turturro’s scenes reminded me of Mindwalk (1991), a three-person film where existential and pretentious conversation continues throughout the running time.
I love movies where characters have great conversations that make the audience feel like they’re eavesdropping on a café. It’s also a welcome touch to have movie dialogue that doesn’t always relate to the plot.
However, even with an actor this good, we don’t need Turturro’s scenes. Turturro’s character points out, half-heartedly, that Martha’s illness is a symbol of a post-pandemic planet, which is another mistake.
On the other hand, there is a wonderful supporting role from Alessandro Nivola, who enlivens the third act just when you doubt the film is going to end.
The more the focus is on Martha and Ingrid on their terms, the more successfully the film explores the issue of coming to terms with one’s death without letting it ruin the life one lives. The main image of a closed door is enough to induce dread and allow enough heaviness to linger in certain moments.
There’s also a nice nod to John Huston’s The Dead (1987) and James Joyce’s 1914 story (reading the latter in college was a game-changer for me as a young writer).
My overall feelings about The Room Next Door are somewhat mixed, as the best and lowest qualities go hand in hand. However, any Almodóvar-produced film is an event, as is the opportunity to watch Swinton and Moore give an acting masterclass.
The strongest scenes here aren’t the ones that drive the plot, but the small, surprising events that you feel deeply afterwards.
Three stars