Review: Nothing's Lost in Translation in Pedro Almodóvar's 'The Room Next Door'

Out Spanish filmmaker Pedro Almodóvar has toned down the outrageous comedy of his earlier work and leaned into deeply felt, sometimes quasi-melodramatic fare in recent years. "The Room Next Door" is one tender, powerful example.

Following the very queer short film "A Strange Way of Life," which starred Pedro Pascal and Ethan Hawke, "The Room Next Door" is Almodóvar's first feature-length movie in English. (Trivia note: His first English language feature might have been the 2005 film "Brokeback Mountain" – a clear antecedent to "Strange Way of Life" – but Almodóvar chose not to make that film and Ang Lee took the reins instead.)

The good (and not really unexpected) news: Working in English doesn't mean that anything has been lost in translation. The same visual boldness and character dynamism is on display here that marks most any Almodóvar film.

Pairing powerhouse American actor Julianne Moore with the equally iconic British star Tilda Swinton (striking with a bleach-blonde 'do and an American accent), Almodóvar dives into a story of female friendship that takes on big questions of life, death, bodily autonomy, personal agency, and moral choice that is not always held in esteem by the law.

Moore's successful novelist, Ingrid, looks up old friend Martha (Swinton) after hearing that Martha is ill with cancer. The two are bound by youthful shared experiences (including a former lover they have in common, played by John Turturro), as well as by a common vocation; Martha, too, is a writer, though of a different sort. She's a war correspondent, and she's seen some pretty harrowing stuff.

Her cancer prognosis is one more battle that Martha is experiencing close up: She's not expected to survive. Enlisting Ingrid's help in a scheme to end her life at a time and in a manner of her own choosing, Martha arranges for a weekend getaway in which the two old friends will share a house. Ingrid needs space to grieve, prepare, and let go, but she also needs companionship; having Ingrid down the hall, in the titular "room next door," will be a solace.

Not quite a two-hander, the film nonetheless feels like a duet as Ingrid and Martha wrestle with a range of emotions, arriving at tranquillity (even if that hard-won sense of peace is threatened by an intrusively arrogant and highly religious police officer late in the movie). What shines through is the hardly subtle (but hard to capture) vibe that tells us death may be inevitable, but life is all about living. Strip away the noise, and the trivia, food, wine, sex, and friendship – especially friendship – is what it's all about.

These days, what once was regarded as "women's films" have few champions and fewer masters; Moore has starred in her share, having also been in Todd Haynes' "Far From Heaven" (2002). On the other side of the camera, Almodóvar may be the most accomplished and reliable director of the genre since Douglas Sirk, and he proves his mastery once more.

"The Room Next Door" opens Dec. 20.