Ingrid is a successful writer. At the book signing, she learns that her old friend Martha, whom she has not seen for a long time, is in a serious state of health. The past will be combined with the present, as is usual with the Spanish director Pedro Almodóvar.
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Czech cinemas have been showing the film The Next Room since last Thursday. | Video: Vertical Entertainment
The new film called Vedlejší pokoj, which started showing in Czech cinemas, is his first shot in English. And some things seem to have been lost in translation in the Golden Lion-winning film at the Venice Film Festival.
The seventy-five-year-old creator has recently been turning to more moderate, dramatic material. The esthete, who became famous for his visually expressive works and plays with the emotional tension of telenovelas, did not get rid of the emphasis on colors and the composition of scenes, but instead of working with television kitsch, he now surrounds himself with the world of high art. It was already obvious in the drama Juliet from 2016, with which he turned to a more serious position after many more genre films such as Torn Embrace or Pleasure in the Clouds.
Already in this film about mourning over a lost daughter, Pedro Almodóvar surrounded the characters with “talking” apartment interiors dominated by stylized statues with missing penises or paintings by the British modern painter Lucian Freud. But then – also thanks to the careful design – he managed to capture the authentic sadness of the main character.
The new movie The Side Room, based on the 2020 book What Are You Going Through by the American writer Sigrid Nunez, is about dying. Martha decides not to undergo another phase of experimental treatment and to live the last weeks or months to the fullest. It is a popular theme of many “feel good” pictures, which often talk positively, even joyfully, about a difficult subject. Almodóvar rather wants to avoid this.
The director follows two intellectuals who once worked together in the same magazine. And it benefits from the charisma of actresses Julianne Moore and Tilda Swinton, who are able to experience pain without emotional outbursts – which does not mean that the film renounces grand gestures.
The film is about dying. Pictured are Julianne Moore as Ingrid and Tilda Swinton as Martha. | Photo: Vertical Entertainment
Instead of a road movie or other plots offered in a film about the last weeks before her death, Martha thinks about the next steps, she has a clear plan of what to do with the remaining moments.
Both actresses give great performances, but the language they speak lets them down a bit. Both of them should be used to commanding words from their practice, but Almodóvar sometimes lets them speak in somewhat artificial English platitudes. And it’s as if he’s running into a similar barrier, even when he arranges the heroines in neat compositions of photogenic mansions.
The luxurious dwelling in the woods, where Martha decides to undergo euthanasia with the help of her friend Ingrid, using an illegally obtained pill, is a place overloaded with meanings. On the wall hangs a painting by the American painter Edward Hopper, who uniquely depicted solitude and isolation, on the shelf lies a DVD with the last picture of Hollywood great John Huston The Dead. They are not just decorations, the heroines play this film, which was an adaptation of James Joyce’s short story, and his lines are repeated in the Side Room. Likewise, the camera occasionally captures Martha in the spirit of Hopper’s melancholic works.
Almodóvar does not want to capture death as a tragedy or follow the process of dying naturalistically. Rather, he tries to understand how to face the fact of his own finitude with a certain dignity.
The distinguished Tilda Swinton, with a hairstyle and stone face reminiscent of Andy Warhol, plays Martha as the heroine, who takes the event much more calmly than her friend Ingrid. But the female protagonists seem to get lost in the carefully composed imitations of Hopper’s paintings.
Pedro Almodóvar once wanted to film in English. Exactly Juliet, whose model for a change was a short story by the Canadian writer Alice Munro. That’s when he finally set the story in Spain, and maybe that’s why the emotional connection to the characters worked better. Now he tells the story of New York, which is an all-too-noble attempt to touch on an important subject.
Almodóvar wants to convey something to the public, which is also reflected in the character of the friend of both women, played by John Turturro. Words fall from his mouth about the state of the world today, but once again there is a whiff of grand gestures.
After the remarkable personal and rather underappreciated film Pain and Glory, in which the director’s alter ego was played by Antonio Banderas, Pedro Almodóvar made what is probably his most detached film. Elegant to such an extent that it resembles carefully arranged photos from fashion magazines.
Five years after he received the Golden Lion for Lifetime Achievement at the Venice Film Festival, this year he received the real one thanks to The Side Room. It’s a shame that even he seems a bit like a meritorious statue. The Next Room is a neat, chiseled item for every cinephile’s shelf, a seemingly muted film that ostentatiously flaunts the right and tasteful cultural goods. Hopefully it won’t get too dusty on that shelf.
Film
Side room
Screenplay and direction: Pedro Almodóvar
Vertical Entertainment, Czech premiere on November 21.
Ingrid and Martha: A Touch of Almodóvar’s Melancholic Magic
Ah, the joy of a reunion! You know, it’s like finding your best mate after years — only to discover they’re in a rather serious state of health! Classic Pedro Almodóvar, really. The Spanish maestro has a knack for mixing the past with the present, often with a side dish of emotional turmoil and vibrant colors. And in his latest film, *The Next Room* (or should we call it *Vedlejší pokoj* for our Czech friends?), he serves this tasty drama with a twist of dying wish and a sprinkle of high art.
So, we have Ingrid, a successful writer — because of course, every film needs a struggling artist, right? What better backdrop to explore the bittersweet theme of mortality than a book signing? Nothing says “joyful celebration” like realizing your friend Martha, after years of not seeing her, is apparently auditioning for the lead role in a drama called “Life’s Final Act.” I can just hear the dramatic music swelling as we get hit with the “Uh-oh” moment!
Now, let’s chat about Almodóvar’s first film in English. It’s like watching your favorite Spanish dish being made in a British kitchen — a tad off but still strangely satisfying. The film won a Golden Lion — seems like he’s made quite a name for himself, hasn’t he? But it raises the question: When the esthete turns to high art, does he risk leaving the kitsch behind? Well, dear readers, it appears he’s gone through an “artistic makeover” — and it’s either fabulous or fabulously puzzling.
In *The Next Room*, we find Martha pondering her mortality and how to navigate her remaining time. Touching, isn’t it? While many films might present such a theme with a feel-good vibe (cue the cheesy soundtrack), Almodóvar takes a more reflective approach — as if he says, “Let’s talk about death, but with style!” And who better to help him deliver this emotional punch than the dynamic duo — Julianne Moore and Tilda Swinton? Watch out Hollywood; they’re bringing angst back!
However, there’s a twist! While both actresses deliver performances that could bring a tear to a stone statue, they occasionally find themselves trapped in the quagmire of “artificial English platitudes.” Imagine two icons trying to sell a heartfelt moment while simultaneously sounding like they’re reading a weather report! Almodóvar’s lavish visual compositions are there, but do they help when the dialogue feels like it’s been fumigated for artistic reasons?
Speaking of lush visuals, let’s discuss the grand setting. Martha’s luxurious woodland retreat, where she decides to undergo euthanasia, is an Instagrammer’s dream! Throw in some Edward Hopper paintings and a dash of John Huston nostalgia, and you’ve got aesthetics galore! This mansion isn’t just a backdrop; it’s almost a character in itself. Which begs the question: Is it possible for a house to overshadow its inhabitants? Asking for a friend!
But alas! Even as Almodóvar splashes empathy across the canvas of this film, the story sometimes becomes lost in the grandeur — all style, and perhaps not enough substance. Martha’s calm acceptance is juxtaposed beautifully against Ingrid’s emotional turmoil; yet somehow, it feels staged, like they’re imitating a Hopper painting rather than living a moment of truth.
It begs another question: How does Almodóvar, a director feted for his emotional transparency, create a narrative that sits on the shelf of artistic achievements but still struggles against the tide of genuine connection? You could say it’s a bit like trying to put on a comedy show in a library; it just feels a bit forced!
After years of reflective filmmaking, Almodóvar has nearly crafted an ethereal piece here, to the point where you might feel guilty for taking a breath while watching. This is a film that looks beautiful but leaves you grappling with the question — is beauty sometimes masquerading as emotional detachment?
To wrap it up: *The Next Room* is more than just a film; it’s a chiseled item for every cinephile’s shelf, reminiscent of carefully arranged fashion magazine photographs. It promises not to gather any dust — or at least that’s what we hope! Is it profound or pretentious? Only time might tell, but one thing is for sure: it’s certainly a conversation starter, right after you’ve finished your Kafka novel and are looking for an existential crisis to discuss over coffee.
Hey, next time you’re reminiscing over old friends — remember: it’s great to reconnect, but let’s pray they’re not facing a life-altering twist! Until then, let’s keep the spirit of Almodóvar alive — flamboyant, poignant, and just a tad cheeky!
In a captivating twist of fate, Ingrid, a renowned author celebrated for her literary prowess, discovers during a vibrant book signing event that her long-lost friend Martha is battling a grave health condition. This poignant reunion serves as a reminder of their intertwined pasts, echoing the signature style of the acclaimed Spanish filmmaker Pedro Almodóvar, known for seamlessly blending nostalgia with contemporary narratives.
The latest cinematic offering, Vedlejší pokoj (The Next Room), has graced Czech theaters since last Thursday, marking a significant milestone as Almodóvar’s inaugural film shot in English. However, critics suggest that while the film captures the essence of his artistry, some nuances may have been slightly obscured in translation, especially given its prestigious background as a Golden Lion recipient at the Venice Film Festival.
Now at the age of seventy-five, the legendary director seems to be gravitating towards more introspective and dramatic themes. Esteemed for his visually striking films and emotionally charged narratives reminiscent of telenovelas, Almodóvar retains his flair for vibrant colors and meticulously crafted compositions—but now immerses himself in the world of high art rather than indulging in the kitschy tropes of television. This evolution was quite evident in the 2016 drama Juliet, which marked his transition towards more serious storytelling after an array of genre-centric projects like Torn Embrace and Pleasure in the Clouds.
In his poignant exploration of grief following the loss of a daughter, Almodóvar enveloped his characters in “talking” apartment interiors adorned with stylized statues and striking artworks, including pieces by the British modern artist Lucian Freud. This careful design not only showcases his signature aesthetic but also captures the genuine sadness of the protagonist in a manner that resonates deeply with audiences.
The narrative of The Side Room, inspired by Sigrid Nunez’s 2020 book What Are You Going Through, delves into the intricate subject of mortality. In a bold decision, Martha opts against further experimental treatments, choosing instead to relish her remaining days alongside her dear friend Ingrid. Almodóvar’s exploration of this theme diverges from the conventional “feel good” approach found in many modern films, opting instead for a more somber and contemplative treatment of the subject matter.
Following two intellectuals who once collaborated at the same magazine, the film benefits from the powerful presence of Julianne Moore and Tilda Swinton, both of whom navigate the landscape of grief with a remarkable quietude. Their performances underscore an extraordinary ability to convey profound pain without resorting to overt emotional displays, although the film does not shy away from more dramatic moments when necessary.
Unlike typical road movies that explore characters’ journeys in their final days, Martha is depicted as someone who has meticulously mapped out her remaining moments, defying narratives that often devolve into sentimentalism. Almodóvar’s direction challenges the actresses to deliver nuanced performances, yet the dialogue occasionally falters, as they sometimes slip into the realm of slightly contrived English platitudes.
The luxurious setting in the woods, where Martha courageously decides to embrace euthanasia with Ingrid’s assistance—utilizing an illegally procured pill—serves as a pivotal backdrop in the film. This environment is rich with symbolism, featuring a striking Edward Hopper painting that poignantly conveys themes of solitude, alongside a DVD of John Huston’s final cinematic masterpiece, The Dead, connecting the characters to the broader tapestry of existential exploration.
Almodóvar eschews a tragic depiction of death, favoring instead the exploration of how one might confront the inevitable end with grace and dignity. Tilda Swinton’s portrayal of Martha exudes a calm resolve that contrasts starkly with Ingrid’s emotional responses, yet both women seem to be somewhat overshadowed by the director’s obsessive attention to framing and composition, resembling artful mimics of Hopper’s despairing portrayals.
Previously, Almodóvar had aspirations to create in English, with Juliet serving as a pivotal moment where he eventually grounded the narrative in Spain, fostering a deeper emotional connection. Now, as he ventures into the narrative landscape of New York, the attempt to tackle a weighty topic feels noble but also perhaps overly ambitious.
The director’s intent to impart a meaningful message resonates in the character played by John Turturro, whose dialogues touch upon contemporary global challenges, albeit with the hint of grandiloquence. Following the relatively understated yet personal film Pain and Glory, where the director’s alter ego was expertly personified by Antonio Banderas, Almodóvar presents what might be his most distancing work to date.
Elegant to the point of resembling curated visual art pieces, The Next Room emerges as a meticulously crafted film that every cinephile will likely want to place on their shelf. However, its polished sheen also brings forth concerns about its longevity and impact in the broader cinematic discussion, raising questions about whether its artistic brilliance will resonate beyond mere aesthetics.
Film
Side Room
Screenplay and direction: Pedro Almodóvar
Vertical Entertainment, Czech premiere on November 21.
In what ways do moments of silence in *The Next Room* contribute to its introspective themes and emotional depth?
Aditional narrative arc in favor of a more introspective and visually driven experience, where moments of silence often resonate louder than dialog. This departure invites the audience to engage actively with the characters’ internal struggles rather than simply following a plotline from point A to B.
As the film unfolds, viewers witness the complexities of friendship marked by both past joys and present sorrows. Ingrid’s journey becomes not only about reconnecting with Martha but also about confronting her own fears surrounding loss and mortality. The interplay of their relationship weaves a rich tapestry of emotions, delicately capturing the essence of love, regret, and the bittersweet nature of life.
While Almodóvar’s lush cinematography draws viewers in, there are moments when the film’s stylistic pursuits run the risk of overshadowing its emotional core. This presents a notable dichotomy: the outward beauty and elegance of the film juxtaposed with a narrative that occasionally feels restrained by its own aesthetic choices. The questioning remains — can true depth coexist with such polished visuals?
Ultimately, *The Next Room* stands as a testament to Almodóvar’s evolution as a director, marrying his roots in vibrant storytelling with a newfound emphasis on reflection and existential inquiry. It presents a grand opportunity to engage with profound themes while still retaining his signature flair. Whether you find it profoundly moving or artfully perplexing, it undoubtedly stimulates conversation—an essential ingredient for a memorable cinematic experience.
So, as you embark on this journey into Almodóvar’s latest masterpiece, prepare yourself not only for a visual feast but for a profound emotional encounter that lingers long after the credits roll. And remember, as you ponder the film’s multiple layers, to bring along a friend for a chat—after all, true connections shine brightest in times of reflection and understanding.
