A mother-and-son abduction story becomes a harrowing, modern metaphor for Alice in Wonderland.
From the very first moments of Room, I was completely enthralled. Based on the bestselling novel by Emma Donoghue, the film opens on a young boy named Jack (Jacob Tremblay) and his “Ma” (Brie Larson), who greet the day with their morning routine: exercise, playing games, watching TV and telling stories. Today is Jack’s fifth birthday, which means he gets a real-life birthday cake, just like the ones on TV. It’s all pretty typical stuff… until you realize it isn’t. In actuality, Jack and Ma are held captive in a 10-by-10, windowless space, which Ma has euphemistically called “Room.” Jack was born and raised in it, while Ma has remained there for seven long years.
But as Jack becomes more curious about the reality of their situation and Ma begins to reach the end of her rope, the two of them enact a plan to escape their captor, once and for all.
We want to hear it.
While the first half of Room takes place in one confined interior, it’s impressively realized thanks to Larson and Tremblay’s captivating relationship, as well as director Lenny Abrahamson’s utilization of space. At the start, “Room” feels open and teeming with possibility, as Jack affectionately regards every nook and cranny of his beloved homestead. But the more he learns about the outside world, the more claustrophobic “Room” becomes.
In premise, Room sounds like an escape thriller, but that’s really only part of it. In fact, most of the film explores what happens after Jack and Ma are free. At that point, the story becomes more about them acclimating to modern society, which are two very different things for Ma and Jack. One is reacquainting herself with the world, while the other is experiencing it for the very first time. (The Alice in Wonderland comparison is not lost on Ma.) As a result, the mother and son endure a unique sort of postpartum, while also coping with their newfound media attention.
But as interesting as that is, the film can feel a little disjointed if you don’t know what you’re getting into — kind of like watching two different movies. That’s because the obvious climax is actually just the midpoint, while the second half explores the aftermath of escaping prolonged captivity. Granted, it’s satisfying to see Jack and Ma’s emotional arc play out from beginning to end, but the story almost feels better suited to literature than film — which makes sense, considering Donoghue wrote the screenplay herself.
However, Room isn’t as glum as it seems. On the contrary, it’s usually heartening and, at times, even whimsical. Most of the story is told through Jack’s perspective (which is why Larson’s character is only ever referred to as “Ma”), so a lot of the actual plot is gleaned from him. While this distorts things a bit for the viewer, it also keeps the film from wallowing in its own dismal subject matter. Ma’s storyline in particular goes to some pretty dark places, but it’s balanced out by Jack’s unwavering curiosity. And as a relative newcomer, Tremblay delivers a formidable performance as the wide-eyed Jack. (Seriously, just try not to cry when his character meets a dog for the first time.)
Of course, another thing that makes Room so powerful is the fact that Ma is not very old herself. Since she was abducted at age 17, she essentially missed out on her formative adult years and was forced instead to raise a child in inhospitable conditions. Larson captures that aspect of her character perfectly, as Ma drifts in and out of her maternal instincts, frequently shutting down like a moody teenager. The shift can be incredibly subtle, but it’s just enough for Larson to convey onscreen. Needless to say, she and Tremblay anchor the film beautifully, and both, in my opinion, give Oscar-worthy performances.
Room is by no means a feel-good movie, but it does instill a sense of hope in the dingy, 10-by-10 world that Emma Donoghue and Lenny Abrahamson have created. This is a mother-and-son story, the likes of which we’ve never seen before, and stars Brie Larson and Jacob Tremblay bring both energy and subtlety to their characters. In the end, Room offers a harrowing but intimate look at the trials and tribulations of abduction, as well as the aftermath.