The Room Next Door unfolds as a delicate, emotional exploration of a former war correspondent, portrayed by Tilda Swinton, seeking to script the perfect ending to her life. She craves control over her final moments, orchestrating a farewell for a handpicked audience that will applaud her exit. Swinton’s character, however, doesn’t find things so easily shaped to her will. The film, on the other hand, ended its festival journey on a high, securing the top prize in Venice.
For a director as revered as Almodóvar, one might assume he’s a regular fixture at the winner’s podium. A prominent figure in global cinema for over four decades, Almodóvar’s films have been adored and dissected across the world. Yet The Room Next Door, his 23rd feature, is his first major festival triumph. Despite nearly winning the Palme d’Or at Cannes for All About My Mother (1999) or Volver (2006), and coming close again with Pain and Glory (2019), Almodóvar seemed perpetually overshadowed at the festival by other contenders. Finally, Venice has given him the recognition Cannes never did.
Some may see Almodóvar’s win as a lifetime achievement award in all but name, and that sentiment carries some weight. The Venice competition wasn’t considered particularly strong this year, with films like The Brutalist, April, and Babygirl generating more buzz among critics than The Room Next Door. Brady Corbet walked away with best director for The Brutalist, Maura Delpero’s Vermiglio nabbed the grand jury prize, and Dea Kulumbegashvili’s April won the special jury award, while Nicole Kidman claimed best actress for Babygirl. Almodóvar’s victory may have surprised a few, given past disappointments, but it was long overdue.
Based on Sigrid Nunez’s novel What Are You Going Through, The Room Next Door is an intimate, two-character drama featuring Swinton and Julianne Moore as old friends reconnecting in a rented house in upstate New York. Swinton’s character, dying of terminal cancer, plans to end her life with a euthanasia pill bought from the dark web. She asks Moore’s bestselling writer character to stay nearby, explaining, “I’ll sleep with my door open, and when you find it closed, you’ll know it’s done.”
While the film’s first act feels cluttered with unnecessary flashbacks and over-decoration, as if Almodóvar is still finding his footing in the English language and American setting, the narrative finds its groove in the latter half. Here, the focus shifts fully to the relationship between the two women, creating a powerful and intimate depiction of facing death.
As with all Almodóvar films, death isn’t just about the end. It’s a film about life, filled with his signature wit, vibrant energy, and colorful eccentricities. Even in the face of mortality, Almodóvar finds space for humor, conflict, and beauty, capturing the quirks of existence in even the most somber moments. While The Room Next Door might not rank among his finest, it is still a testament to a master storyteller’s ability to weave humanity into every frame.
After decades of being cinema’s metaphorical golden lion, it’s fitting that Almodóvar now holds the real thing in hand.
