The less you know about Room before you watch, the more you’ll enjoy it. It’s a film that depends on its big reveal. But to not mention it wouldn’t make for a very interesting review – consider this your spoiler warning.
It’s the juxtaposition of the film’s two narrative halves
that makes it such a success. We begin inside the titular room, almost
voyeuristically spying on the lives of Jack (Jacob Tremblay) and his Ma (Brie
Larson). Where Emma Donoghue’s novel – on which the film is based – tells its
story purely from the juvenile, naïve perspective of Jack, here the film takes
a broader approach. Extreme close ups and a lack of light create a sense of claustrophobia
for both characters: for Jack this one room is the only world he’s ever known,
for Ma it’s a torture full of unbearable frustration. Voiceovers from Jack
suggest a confidence in his surroundings, but that soon changes. In what is one
of the darkest and most desperate decisions in cinema (and literature), Ma persuades Jack to play
dead so that their captor Old Nick (Sean Bridgers) will remove him, allowing an
escape.
That escape is a real Wizard
of Oz moment. Jack looks out at the world, overwhelmed. Wide angled shots
give a sudden sense of space and colour and he turns immediately from bratty
kid to almost mute. You’ll find yourself willing him to divulge information to
the police as tension grows in the build up to Ma’s rescue. The sense of relief
is palpable.
And that is essentially it. It’s both a blessing and a curse
that the film’s climax comes about a third of the way in. Not much else happens
and you find yourself questioning “what now?”.
That, though, is the whole point. What now? Room isn’t a film about kidnapping;
indeed besides a brief explanation we never find out too much about Ma’s
capture or Old Nick’s reasoning. Instead, this is a film about overcoming
trauma, looking to the future and not dwelling on the past. After experiencing
such a horrific event, having your life back is a gift – but what would you do
with it?
That’s why Room is
such a life-affirming film. Sometimes we need to take a step back and view
things with clarity through the simplified, innocent lens of a child – and that’s
exactly what director Lenny Abrahamson gives us. Through low angles we see the
world as Jack does, where tiny moments have huge impact. As with the delicate
score from Stephen Rennicks, the film offers minimal storytelling with maximum
effect: the room could be a metaphor for any sort of grief or trauma and with
the film being so vast and spacious, it’s up to us to fill in the blanks with
our own meaning. Room, then, becomes
an extremely personal film.
It also focuses down on the central performances. Sure,
Tremblay is adorable as Jack, but it’s Larson who gives a truly remarkable
performance. Ma is such a complex character, a volatile mix of frustration,
sadness, depression, strength, and love for her son. Where Jack proves
resilient to his surroundings, Ma agonises over her ability as a mother. Larson’s
emotionally charged performance expertly guides us through the film – without it,
Room wouldn’t be such a cathartic
release.
5/5
Watch: Room is out
now.
