Featured image courtesy of the Savannah Film Festival website
It’s rare that a film can genuinely move you. Going into “Room,” I expected a lot more flare and melodrama, considering the dark circumstances rooted in the plot. Instead, what I received from director Lenny Abrahamson was a heartfelt, human experience without the added baggage: a direct and stunning work of art.
Based on the novel by Emma Donoghue — who is also the screenwriter — the movie tells the story of 5-year-old Jack (Jacob Tremblay) who lives in “Room” with his Ma (Brie Larson). Ma was kidnapped at 17 by Old Nick (Sean Bridgers, his character’s real name is never told), and locked in a shed in his backyard. After Jack is born, she makes it her mission “to keep him safe,” and does so by telling him that everything in Room is real, and everything else that they see on the television is only “TV.” Desperate, Ma convinces her captor that Jack has died, prompting him to sneak him out rolled up in a carpet. Jack escapes, gets help to rescue Ma and the two finally make it out into the real world. Now Jack has to adjust to a scary world much larger than what he knew.
Told from Jack’s perspective this is a simple film, but it is in its simplicity that the overwhelming depth shines through. Jack’s voice — an inner dialogue between him and the audience — makes astute observations on the world. While Ma finally tries to “un-lie” to him about the world, he has a lot to say.
“Everything has two sides,” says Ma, explaining that there is something on the other side of the wall.
“Not an octagon,” replies Jack.
As the film progresses, his understanding grows larger, but still maintains his childish smart-aleck wit. Tremblay, like his costars, acts in an understated and intensely palpable way and you love him immediately.
What’s most important in this movie — and what makes it so accessible to real life — is what is interpreted in the moments of silence. The ensemble really managed to speak through their eyes. William H. Macy and Joan Allen (who play Ma’s parent’s, Robert and Nancy) have mastered this thousand-word stare in a dichotomy. Nancy is patient with Jack; thankful for the hope he gave her daughter in “Room,” and working to build trust with a young boy who can’t even grasp the concept of stairs. Robert can’t even look Jack in the eye because the boy reminds him of his daughter’s suffering. It’s a subtle performance from the two of them, and it slaps you in the face.
But Larson aims a dagger at your heart. You can tell from the very beginning that Ma is exhausted. Like every mother, she tries her best to give her child a happy life, but her situation is overwhelming — the world she goes back to is overwhelming. I felt a deep frustration along with Ma when she slowly began to realize that she could never really be Joy Newsome again. What was taken from her, was also taken from you. Larson made me live her pain in what could possibly be the most spectacular performance of her career so far.
“Room” is a raw, unrelenting human experience that is virtually flawless. This is not a movie to see alone. This is a movie to watch with someone you love. By the end of it you’ll appreciate them and everything you have even more.
