The Room Next Door (2024 | USA | 107 minutes | Pedro Almodóvar)

The number of times I’ve used this website to declare my fandom for the films of Spanish auteur Pedro Almodóvar is numerous. So why then did his latest film, his first ever English language feature, leave me feeling so nonplussed?

The Room Next Door is the story of two women (Julianne Moore and Tilda Swinton) who reconnect after a several year estrangement. Martha is played by Swinton and Ingrid by Moore. Ingrid is a best selling author, and Martha is a former war correspondent. At a book signing, a mutual friend encourages Ingrid to reach out to Martha as she’s fighting an aggressive form of cancer.

Ingrid starts spending a lot of time with Martha, who admits that her fight with cancer is not going well and has a big ask. Martha has accepted that she’s not going to get better. She wants to end her life instead of going through more chemotherapy with diminished returns. All Ingrid would have to do is stay with her in a luxurious house, down the hall, and when it’s time, Martha will take a lethal pill she bought from the dark web and will close her bedroom door when it’s time. All Ingrid would need to do is keep Martha company and call the police after she does it.

On paper, the movie hits all of my receptors. The location is gorgeous, the acting is phenomenal, and I’m not sure anyone has ever worn anything cooler in a movie than that yellow suit Tilda Swinton wears. There’s like seven people in the world that can pull that off. Moreover, Julianne Moore is one of those actors whose presence can be a deciding factor in the affirmative whether or not I watch a movie I’m somewhat bearish on.

I think the script was the issue. The dialogue was flat and didn’t really have anything profound to say about death and/or friendship that hasn’t already been said before. I also found the scenes involving the police completely superfluous. I was waiting for an emotional gut-punch or heartbreak that never really arrived. Almodovar’s two previous features, Parallel Mothers and Pain and Glory shook me to my foundation and affected me for hours and days afterwards. This time, I didn’t feel anything. On the plus side, this might be the most Bechdel Test Passing-est movie I’ve ever seen.

Maybe that’s unfair. The letdown could’ve been because I’ve long accepted that we all should be afforded a painless death on own our terms, triply for someone with a terminal illness, so there were no real stakes for me. Still, I can’t shake the feeling that I watched The Room Next Door and Better Man on the same day and it was the movie about the singing and dancing monkey that made me cry.

That’s not to say that The Room Next Door is bad or without merit. As I mentioned above, there are some fine attributes like the acting and the yellow suit. And even one of Pedro Almodóvar’s lesser movies is still better than most other films out there. The adage that applies to sex and cold pizza also applies to the filmmaking of my favorite Spanish filmmaker: even when it’s bad, it’s still pretty good.

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The Room Next Door begins playing at SIFF Cinema Uptown on Friday, January 10.