The Room Next Door at Venice Film Festival review: understated and lovely

Pedro Almodóvar arrives in Venice with his first English-language feature after making initial forays with the shorts The Human Voice and Strange Way of Life, the latter a disappointing and shallow work; the former a more interesting monographic piece starring Tilda Swinton.

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

The film opens at the Rizzoli bookstore in New York City, where Ingrid is at a book signing for her latest tome. When she hears from a friend that Martha is sick, she heads to the hospital.

Meeting again after years apart, the women renew their relationship, and as Martha comes to terms with her mortality so she hastens to delve into the nitty gritty of her past, of her motherhood and of how to face her death. Ingrid is borne along this ride almost passively. She fears death yet is immersed in the preparations for her friend’s impending one. Moore is adept at depicting a woman who is both fearful and fragile yet ultimately stalwart and courageous.

Almodóvar wrote the screenplay, which is based on What Are You Going Through, the 2020 novel by American writer Sigrid Nunez. Despite this being essentially a two-hander, other characters appear.

Damian (John Turturro) is an old flame of both the women who now lectures on climate change. We also meet Martha’s estranged daughter Michelle and there are flashbacks that recount Michelle’s conception and the reason why her father was never in the picture.

While the dialogue at times appears stilted and unnatural, there are moments when it is outstanding, such as a conversation between Damian (who confesses to be ‘monomaniacal’ about climate change) and Ingrid about the nature of hope in the face of tragedy. There are some genuinely funny moments, too, mainly courtesy of Ingrid: at her book signing, she has a great interaction with a fan, and when she and Damian talk about his relationship with Martha, he describes their passionate affair by stating, “It was like having sex with a terrorist.”

Ingrid’s encounter with a personal trainer is both ridiculous and entertaining. As Martha, Swinton gets little opportunity for comedy. She is not always the best company – at one point she cries out “I don’t want to be a downer!”, but occasionally she is, and at times it is hard to believe Ingrid when she says how much she loves being with her.

This being an Almodóvar film, there are plenty of cameos from Spanish actors (much of the movie was filmed in Spain) and there is a minor sub-plot that involves gay Carmelite monks. Further trademark features include the sumptuous colour palette, with teal taking a starring role by appearing on everything from walls to mugs to a Hopper painting and the flecks in Michelle’s outfit. The geometrical patterns combine with the rich colour wheel to create a film that is consistently easy on the eye.

However, there are some minor gripes with the film. Martha’s time as a war reporter is depicted in a cringeworthy flashback in which we see her driving through the streets of Baghdad, hopping out of the car with yellow notebook in hand.

Ingrid appears to have no life of her own: no relationships, no work commitments, no personal issues to contend with. Then there are the references to James Joyce’s The Dead, which are laid on a little too thickly.

Almodóvar’s longtime collaborator Alberto Iglesias wrote the score, which contributes to keeping the melodrama dial set high, acting as a counterpoise to Swinton and Moore’s more subtle performances.

That music, such an integral part of Almodóvar’s filmmaking, also acts as an aural link to the director’s previous works for the audience. And despite a certain propensity for melodrama, Almodóvar restrains himself, making a film that is as understated and lovely as his leading ladies’ performances.

In cinemas from October 25