Room
Director: Lenny Abrahamson
Starring: Brie Larson, Jacob Tremblay
Four-and-a-half stars
Arresting and heartbreaking, wrought with extremes of tension and love, Room is as evocative and unforgettable on the big screen as it was in the bestselling novel that inspired it.
A story of the transformative power of childhood innocence and parental love, this is the kind of film you will never forget. Ingeniously adapted from her own novel by Emma Donoghue, Room burrows deep into the mind of the viewer and becomes a permanent resident.
Tenderly and terrifyingly realised by director Lenny Abrahamson, the film succeeds with quiet camerawork and brilliant performances from its two leads, Brie Larson and 9-year-old breakout talent, Jacob Tremblay.
He plays Jack, the film’s sometime narrator, a boy who lives with Ma (Larson) in a tiny, windowless space with grey, soundproof walls. A bed and a wooden wardrobe fill one corner. There is also a TV, table, sink and toilet.
The room’s door is locked and Jack has never been outside. It is the only place he has ever known and, to him, it is a wonderland. Jack believes the room and its contents are all that exists – that trees and dogs and anything else he sees on television is pretend – because that is what Ma taught him.
“TV persons are flat and made of colours,” Jack says in a voice-over. “But me and you are real.”
For him, everything in the room is significant and interesting. Each morning, he greets the sink and wardrobe as though they are his friends. Every day, he reads aloud to Ma before they sprint around the room for track practice. On Jack’s fifth birthday, they bake a cake in their tiny toaster oven.
He doesn't realise, of course, that he and Ma are prisoners of Old Nick, the man who knows the code to Room's heavy metal door and comes in at night to make the bed squeak. Now that Jack is five, Ma tells him the truth and plans their escape.
For the first half of the film, the room is the only location and the only people on screen are Jack and Ma. Yet their experiences crackle with energy and intimacy.
Larson and Tremblay occupy their characters so completely, their plight becomes painfully real.
Abrahamson relies on straightforward images and natural sound to convey the world of Jack, Ma and “Room”.
At times, the camera-eye is low, as if to mimic Jack’s perspective. During the frenzied escape attempt, the camera is jostled and obscured, like he is.
Tremblay is pure magic – deeply gifted and natural. He brings a delightful innocence and profound depth to the curious boy at the heart of the film. He is the light to the darkness of Ma, which Larson embodies with heartbreaking truth.
If Jack is the hope in Room, Ma is the heart. Tremblay's and Larson's captivating performances are as memorable as the story itself.
artslife@thenational.ae
