The Room Next Door

Seeing an Almodovar movie in English is a bit weird. This is such a quintessential Spanish director, that the lack of Spanish (apart from one short sentence) seems to take away an essential element from the movie. But even in English, Almodovar stays Almodovar, just like Woody Allen stayed Woody Allen in his French film.

I think this is one of the best movies he has made. It's beautiful, it's touching, it's meaningful. Not many films combine those three qualities. It seems as if with every new movie he directs, he gets closer to the purest film making. In this case, it's a story about two friends who both have to come to grips with death. Martha is dying of cancer and wants euthanasia, Ingrid is an old friend who is afraid of death but nevertheless agrees to accompany Martha in her last days.

This sounds as if the film is very depressing. Let me assure you: it is not. Far from it. There are far more happy moments than sad ones. Even Martha embraces life in her last moments, because she wants to spend them in a stunningly luxurious villa in the woods.

Almodovar once again creates a world of beauty, full of colour and aesthetics. His sets are, as usual, carefully designed. But this is also a very moving film, showing how valuable good friendships can be and how, even in death, dignity and respect are essential values.

Almodovar includes many references in his film. Martha and Ingrid watch movies by Buster Keaton and John Huston, and they go to a cinema where a Rosselini movie is playing. But the most obvious influence, I think, is Ingmar Bergman. Not only is the story reminiscent of Bergman's Persona, but the whole movie has a Bergman-esque feeling. Just like many Bergman movies, it relies heavily on dialogue, tackles themes like death and religion, and has a limited number of characters. The difference: Almodovar adds some Spanish warmth and colour.

To live or to die is a decision many of us are probably reluctant to address. The fear of this great unknown is enough to keep the notion at bay. But what if we were to find ourselves dealing with a terminal illness with little hope for the future? Would we be willing to nobly soldier on, knowing that our circumstances are only going to get worse, or would we choose to transition to what's next on our own time and under our own terms? Such is the scenario involving two old friends, Martha (Tilda Swinton), a former war correspondent who has lived a rich, full life but is now afflicted with terminal cancer, and Ingrid (Julianne Moore), a successful author who recently penned a book detailing her personal fear of death. When Martha's condition takes a turn for the worse and her joy of living rapidly begins vanishing, she decides she wants to pass on before she significantly deteriorates. She willfully chooses to die with dignity in a comfortable and beautiful setting of her choosing. But she doesn't want to be alone when the time comes: She wants to be in the presence of a compassionate soul in those final moments, someone not to act as a facilitator but who can provide company, comfort and support "in the room next door" as she slips away. And so it's indeed ironic when Martha asks Ingrid to be that person. It's a proposal about which Ingrid has serious reservations, but she also recognizes that she can't in all good conscience turn her back on a friend. These circumstances also provide her with an opportunity to face firsthand the fears she's just written about. But, those well-intentioned considerations aside, how will matters unfold for all concerned when events are no longer theoretical and turn real? That's what writer-director Pedro Almódovar explores in his latest feature offering, providing viewers with a thoughtful, profound yet practical and eminently moving take on a controversial subject, one that's been surfacing more candidly and more frequently in public discourse than it once did and that carries myriad ramifications ethically, emotionally and legally. While the film periodically veers off onto somewhat unrelated narrative tangents and occasionally becomes a little too talky for its own good (qualities that often encroach upon Almódovar's works), this is arguably one of the filmmaker's finest efforts both in terms of the sensitivity employed in the treatment of its subject, as well as in raising questions about the validity and propriety of right to die matters. It's particularly noteworthy for the superb performances of its two principals, both of whom turn in some of the best work of their careers, as evidenced by Swinton's Golden Globe Award nomination for best lead actress in a drama. It's long been believed that none of us will know the time when we'll pass, that it's something left up to fate. But must it be that way, especially if we deliberately put our minds to our circumstances? "The Room Next Door" gives us much to ponder in this regard, showing us how leaving matters to chance ultimately might not be the wisest or most fulfilling course for all of us to follow.

I had high hopes for this movie because of the cast. However, the movie disappointed me. While watching it, I got the feeling that when making the movie, it was thought that good actors and a theme of death were enough to make a great movie. Nothing else happens and the whole movie could have fit perfectly into 30 minutes. And this is not a case where the action takes place slowly and deeply until it reaches the main idea or climax. In this case, the film went along a rather boring path without any deviations, as a result of which even the tears of the actors did not move me at all. Pretty bland and lacked depth.

Despite its serious theme (Euthanasia) the film is supremely boring, disconnected and not emotionally involving at all. I wonder how it could win the Golden Lion at Venice Film Festival. The interconnected stories just don't make any sense (see the gay Carmelite friars interpolation). The character played by Turturro is flat and uninteresting. The script sounds like political propaganda and it doesn't come from the heart. Come on Pedro, you can do better than this... I'm not absolutely sure that Tilda Swinton was the best choice for this role but since The Human Voice she seems to feature in all of Almodovar's English language mpvies. There have been many films made on euthanasia (such as Amenabar's "Mar Adentro") that are certainly better worthy of notice than this frankly mediocre sample.

The Room Next Door feels like Pedro Almodóvar stepping into uncharted territory. It's his first English-language film, and while it's undeniably beautiful, it left me wishing for a bit more substance beneath the surface. The story focuses on Martha, a war photographer facing terminal cancer, and Ingrid, a novelist whose friendship with Martha has grown distant. Almodóvar brings his signature style-bold colors, symbolic spaces, and carefully crafted visuals-but somehow, the emotional depth he's known for doesn't quite land.

Color plays a huge role here, especially red. Almodóvar uses it as a recurring theme-it's in Martha's outfits, Ingrid's scattered notes, and the carefully chosen decor of the house where most of the story unfolds. Normally, his use of red bursts with life and passion (Volver, anyone?), but here it feels muted. Instead of adding emotional weight to Martha's struggles with agency and mortality, it seems more decorative than symbolic, like it's there to remind us we're watching an Almodóvar film but not much else.

The house, though, is stunning. It's this sleek, modernist marvel of icy blues and greys, with pops of red, yellow, and green breaking through the sterile perfection. It's a powerful metaphor for Martha and Ingrid's fragile connection-a place that feels both protective and isolating. But as much as I loved how the house looked, I kept waiting for it to feel like a real part of the story. It's a backdrop with so much potential, but its symbolism doesn't dig deep enough to make the emotional stakes feel real.

Tilda Swinton and Julianne Moore are, unsurprisingly, excellent. Swinton gives Martha a quiet fierceness, and Moore portrays Ingrid with a mix of regret and tenderness. But the dialogue between them sometimes falls flat-it's too heavy on exposition and not raw enough to pull you in. Their interactions often feel more like scripted exchanges than heartfelt conversations, which makes it harder to connect with their journey.

Ultimately, The Room Next Door is a feast for the eyes, but its heart doesn't quite match its visual brilliance. It's beautiful, yes, but it feels like it's searching for the emotional depth that made Almodóvar's earlier films so unforgettable. I respect the ambition, but as the credits rolled, I couldn't help but miss the vibrant storytelling of his past works.