The Room Next Door

In the late 90s, we lived in Montclair, a delightful little town in New Jersey. Like all American cities/towns, a great divide (usually one of the main thoroughfares) ran through Montclair, separating the "North" from the "South." We lived about half a block away from this divide on the "Southern" side (to the consternation of some members of the Bengali community, but that is a story for a different day). Immediately on the other side of the divide from us was a little strip with ethnic restaurants, shops selling Birkenstocks and bandanas, and an independent movie theater. My parents enjoyed staying with us in  Montclair more than any other place in the US since they had the freedom to walk around and do things when we were at work. My father would walk around the corner and up to a grocery store to buy catfish nuggets and potatoes, which my mother would incorporate in a curry. One day, they decided to walk out after lunch and catch a (recommended) movie at the theater. Being a weekday, they did not expect it to be crowded, but they did not imagine they would be the only two people in the theater. The theater dutifully played the movie to an audience of two, showing "Todo Sobre mi Madre" (All About My Mother). 

I was reminded of this recently when we went to see The Room Next Door, Pedro Almodovar's latest movie and his first full English feature (he has made two shorts in English earlier). It wasn't an audience of two, but aside from me, Chandreyee, and Jayanta, there were only two other people. It was a bitterly cold Wednesday evening in Natick, and I was transfixed by Almodovar's latest offering. 

Pedro Almodovar was a favorite during my Duke grad student days after they screened "Mujeres al borde de un ataque de nervios" (Women on the Verge of a Nervous Breakdown). This zany, fast-paced, lighthearted comedy was easy to digest but not a lightweight by any means (nominated for Best Foreign Language at the Oscars that year.).  Looking back, it had all the elements of an Almodovar movie that persist until today in most of his films and definitely in TRND - vibrant, emotional, and focusing on female protagonists. The pace, and the degree/manifestation of emotions have mellowed over time. 

When I like an author or a filmmaker/actor, I tend to digest their entire oeuvre, and I did the same with Almodovar then, watching Matador,  La ley del Deseo (Law of Desire), ¡Átame (Tie me up! Tie me down) and Tacones Lejanos (High Heels). They were all in the mold of "Women...", high drama, usually dark and sometimes comic, many featuring his favorites Antonio Banderas and Marisa Paredes.  

After moving to Boston, I met some people at a party and the topic of Almodovar came up. His latest "La flor de mi Secreto," (Flowers of My Secret) happened to be playing in theaters then. I planned to go watch it with a couple of them so that we could see muchos sexos, as one of them said. It was a sudden departure from the high-energy and dark comedy movies and a lot slower. I remember watching it in Kendall Square, and I soaked it in. It had comedy but also a high degree of drama. My companions were disappointed, but this change in Almodovar sat well with me. His next movie, "Carne Tremula" (Live Flesh), despite being an erotic thriller, was still relatively restrained (and for the first time he had Penelope Cruz and Javier Bardem working with him). It seemed that Almodovar had walked away from his early campy style of movies and into serious melodrama. 

This was when he makes "All about.." It was phenomenal, my parents loved it. It had numerous female protagonists who were front and center of the story. Dealing with complex issues but with a poetic narrative, I thought this was Almodovar at his peak. I was wrong; I think his best movie was the subsequent Hable Con Ella (Talk to Her). Oddly, his most acclaimed movie centers on two male protagonists caring for two women in a coma. I have seen this movie several times, and I am sure more viewings are destined for my future. 

Almodovar continued to make movies along the same line—"La Mala Educacion, Volver, and Los Abrazos Rotos"—maintaining his focus on relationships, women protagonists, and eroticism while featuring the incredible palettes in which his movies are presented. My life got complicated after that, and I lost track of his creations. Recently, I  came across a "Strange Way of Life" on Netflix. It was in English primarily, with some Spanish dialogues. It instantly connected me back to my old fascination with his work. Lo behold, I find The Room Next Door releasing locally, and we are in Natick in the arctic cold. 

I walked through the arc of Pedro Almodovar above, but connecting a line from "Women.." to TRND is beyond me. It maintains his hallmarks, such as the women protagonists, relationships (in this case between a mother and a daughter, completely conveyed via dialogue between two friends), and, of course, that wonderful tapestry that serves as the backdrop for his stories. However, he minimizes actions and makes this Bergman-esque film where introspective conversation is the meat, potato, and dessert. Almodovar has tackled complex issues previously, but his choices in this one struck a deep chord in me  - death with dignity and the comfort of friendship in your final days/ minutes. I have been mulling about both of these for several years now. 

I am not going to discuss the plot, not that there is much of it. The movie focuses on a cancer-stricken woman laying bare her emotions through dialogue with a newly found old-friend. The dialogue is odd to your ear, but I think that is because it non-Hollywoodish, and may even have a touch of a Spaniard writing English dialogue, a bit like translations of Spanish. But one looks past this fluency or lack thereof. The words convey such intensity, both raw in emotion and pensive in nature. Most of the movie shows the two actors (Julianne Moore and Tilda Swinton) talking, set across different backgrounds in hospitals, gardens, apartments, and a vacation home. There is an occasional scene here and there depicting flashbacks. The most distracting part for me was the scenes featuring John Turturro, whose character was a common lover to the two friends in their pasts. I understand the need for this character, but I wish he was primarily featured in the dialogue between the two women and not be an actual character. 

I don't know what else Pedro has in his bag, but my appetite has been whetted.