Review: The Room Next Door at Venice Film Festival – Understated and Lovely

Pedro Almodóvar has arrived in Venice with his first English-language feature after dipping his toes in with the shorts The Human Voice and Strange Way of Life. The former featured Tilda Swinton in a more interesting monographic piece, while the latter was considered disappointing and shallow.

Swinton now stars in The Room Next Door as Martha, a former war reporter dying of cervical cancer. When her old friend, Ingrid (Julianne Moore), a successful novelist, hears the news, she rekindles their friendship. The film can’t be accused of superficiality as it tackles major themes such as death, euthanasia, climate change, the religious right, and the politics of division.

The story begins at the Rizzoli bookstore in New York City, where Ingrid is signing copies of her latest book. She learns from a friend that Martha is unwell and rushes to the hospital. Reuniting after years apart, the women renew their relationship. As Martha comes to terms with her mortality, she dives into her past, her role as a mother, and facing her death. Ingrid, meanwhile, is mostly a passive participant, absorbed in the preparations for her friend’s inevitable demise. Moore skillfully portrays a woman who is both fragile and fearful, yet ultimately strong and courageous.

Almodóvar wrote the screenplay based on What Are You Going Through, the 2020 novel by American writer Sigrid Nunez. While primarily a two-hander, the film does feature other characters. Damian, played by John Turturro, is an old flame of both women and now gives lectures on climate change. Martha’s estranged daughter, Michelle, also appears, and flashbacks recount Michelle’s conception and why her father was absent.

Though the dialogue sometimes feels stilted and unnatural, it shines in particular moments. A conversation between Damian and Ingrid about the nature of hope in the face of tragedy is particularly outstanding. Some genuinely funny moments are sprinkled throughout, mainly thanks to Ingrid. At her book signing, she engages humorously with a fan, and when discussing Martha with Damian, he describes their passionate affair as “like having sex with a terrorist.”

Ingrid’s encounter with a personal trainer is equally ridiculous and entertaining. Swinton’s Martha has less opportunity for comedic moments. She occasionally laments not wanting to be a downer, and at times, it’s hard to believe Ingrid’s affection for her.

As is typical of an Almodóvar film, there are plenty of cameos from Spanish actors, and much of the movie was shot in Spain. A minor subplot involves gay Carmelite monks. The sumptuous color palette is another trademark, with teal featuring prominently on everything from walls to mugs. These rich colors and geometric patterns create a film that is consistently visually appealing.

Despite some minor issues, such as a cringeworthy flashback of Martha’s time as a war reporter and Ingrid’s seemingly non-existent personal life, the film boasts a captivating score. Almodóvar’s longtime collaborator, Alberto Iglesias, composed the music, heightening the melodrama while balancing Swinton and Moore’s subtler performances.

The music serves as an aural link to Almodóvar’s previous works, adding a sense of familiarity for the audience. Although Almodóvar has a tendency for melodrama, he exercises restraint in this film, making it as understated and lovely as the performances by Swinton and Moore.

In cinemas from October 25.

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