Room (2015)

Room, adapted by writer Emma Donoghue from her own novel, has two distinct, equally emotional segments to its narrative. They stand in stark contrast to each other, with the first half very confined to a single small space and the latter half being set in the wider but sometimes just as frightening world. The filmmakers manage to keep the suspense taut throughout the film, though, even though the initial half could have easily been devolved into a kind of horror-film excess and the second part could have fallen into overly sentimental melodrama of the worst sort. Watching Room is not an upbeat experience, honestly, but what emerges is a powerful depiction of the kind of strength it takes to survive a hellish experience.

The first half of the film reveals itself in very measured steps as the audience comes to realize that a woman and her son are imprisoned in a 10-by-10 foot garden shed by a man they refer to as Old Nick. Old Nick kidnapped Joy (played by Brie Larson) seven years earlier and fathered Jack (played with great depth by newcomer Jason Tremblay) two years later. In order to protect Jack from the truth, Joy convinces her young son that the space that they call Room is actually the entire world, that there is no existence outside of the shed. She becomes increasingly desperate to escape from the forced malnutrition, power shut-offs, and repeated rapes (and other forms of violence), so she begins to reveal aspects of the truth of their situation to an initially skeptical Jack. The escape that they plot and execute provides a harrowing centerpiece to the film.

The second half is no less tense than the first. While the threat of constant physical danger may have been removed, both Joy and Jack have significant and challenging adjustments that they must make to their new existence. Joy, suffering from post-traumatic stress disorder, finds it difficult to reintegrate into life with her mother (the great Joan Allen) and her mother’s new live-in boyfriend, Leo. She finds it difficult to express clearly how she’s feeling since she knows that no one could perhaps comprehend what she has endured for seven years. Jack has his own issues, given that he’s grown up in such an isolated environment. The world is such a mystery to him, one that he is initially reluctant to encounter directly. He has to build a sense of trust with other people besides his mother, but the transition is frightening.

There’s a powerful lesson here about what our imagination can do. Given only one skylight through which to experience the world, Joy and Jack initially have to make their own world. Joy’s initial creativity in explaining what they see on television, for example, demonstrates what a keen mind she has. To give her son more of a sense of the vastness and greatness of the world outside Room would lead to potentially destructive consequences. When she does begin to share more realistic details about the world, Jack’s ability to comprehend such matters goes a long way toward explaining how he has managed to survive locked away in the wardrobe at night when his mother is being raped a few feet away.

This film also makes a strong point about how much we come to depend upon each other. Jack, of course, needs his mother in order to survive. She fights for him by asking Old Nick to supply vitamins for the boy’s health and even to acknowledge the boy’s birthday. She decides it’s time to escape when she realizes that she and Jack can no longer live in the confining environment of Room. However, interestingly, Joy needs Jack almost as much. Without him, she might have given up years earlier. It’s his importance to her life that keeps her motivated to escape and get back to a “normal” existence. This doesn’t mean that the two of them are always happy with each other; it’s easy to get on each other’s nerves when you’re in contact with each other 24 hours a day. Even after the escape, the bond between them is at times intense and needy and supportive and exhausting. When it is no longer just the two of them, they still cling to each other and get frustrated with each other.

The performance by Tremblay as Jack is integral to the success of the film. He’s astonishingly good without demonstrating a sort of “Hollywood precociousness.” He reacts the way that a five-year-old boy might react, and the way that he plays with his toys or bounces around a room would be familiar to anyone with a little boy in the family. Had Tremblay given a less nuanced performance, Room would have nowhere near the emotional impact that it ultimately has. We have to experience a great deal of the narrative through Jack’s perspective, and Tremblay shows us with amazing clarity what it is like to experience the world for the first time, how confusing and exciting that can be. He would have been a formidable candidate for Best Actor in a Leading Role had he been nominated, but Hollywood (and the Oscars, as a subset of it) has a long, sad history of ignoring child actors with this kind of depth.

All of the performances in the film are first rate. Larson has been justifiably recognized by many awards groups for her performance, including the Oscars, and she and Tremblay receive able support from Allen as Joy’s mother, who reveals a full history of her own brand of suffering and pain in the way she reacts to her daughter’s return. It’s good to see Allen even in such a small role; she always is such a welcome presence to a film. William H. Macy gets only a couple of quick moments as Joy’s father, but he provides an interesting counterpoint to the happy-you’re-free response from the other characters. He is the astringent that wipes away the possibility that everyone will be supportive of Joy and, particularly, Jack, making the overall film more realistic in its tone. Even Sean Bridgers as Old Nick brings an essential villainous presence to the first half without resorting to stereotype; there’s a true sense of relief when he disappears halfway through the film.

The challenge of filming in such a small space as Room could have been (and probably was) quite daunting. The production design team has created a remarkable environment within the garden shed, with the kinds of touches that demonstrates a keen attention to the kinds of details that would evolve over a seven-year span of time in such a confining space. The child’s drawings on the wall, the egg shell snake created as a craft project to distract Jake, the small area that serves as a kitchen—all of them and many other touches blend together to give a sense of a room truly being lived in. Similar kudos go to the costume design team, particularly for the clothes that Jack wears while he and his mother are still in Room. You can imagine what limits there would have been to these two captives and how they would have been more creative in what to wear each day.

The Hollywood version of this film would undoubtedly have had a more upbeat ending; there is a reason, after all, that they’re called “Hollywood endings.” However, as an independent film with a strong undercurrent of international funding support (Canada, Great Britain, Ireland, etc.), Room provides a muted ending more appropriate to the situation being depicted. It’s not that there isn’t a sense of happiness or even optimism earned by the ending; it’s just that everything couldn’t be tidy and completely resolved to everyone’s satisfaction and still stay true to the spirit of the rest of the story.

Oscar Win: Best Performance by an Actress in a Leading Role (Brie Larson),

Other Oscar Nominations: Best Motion Picture of the Year, Best Achievement in Directing (Lenny Abrahamson), Best Adapted Screenplay