The Room Next Door

It is quite lovely in all the ways a Pedro Almodóvar movie can be. Striking and strange.

Fortunately, the film has as its leads Swinton and Moore, two of the most accomplished actors going. It’s a pleasure seeing them on screen together.

What makes "The Room Next Door" uplifting is that it's not actually about death, but quality of life and acknowledging the importance of those we go through this journey with. It's about holding close, not letting go.

“The Room Next Door” showcases a carefully choreographed dance between two Oscar winners that elevates both of their performances to greatness.

“The Room Next Door” feels rather hollow, an odd occurrence given it’s dealing with reconciling with the fact of imminent death and that it stars two of our greatest actors.

Ultimately, “The Room Next Door” is as much about love as it is about death — not the romantic kind of love, but the sort in which two friends hold each other up and give each other what they need, selflessly.

Few contemporary filmmakers are as attentive to the radiance of light and color, shape, the glow of light in and on women’s eyes. <i>The Room Next Door</i> is a world of primary colors, of patches and blocks of red and green, bold Hockney-style splashes.

There is a cultural divide that doesn't quite translate in the way they talk to each other, but after about a half an hour, you go with it.

An ordinary story elevated by the acting talents of Moore and Swinton.

Failing to make a lasting, thought-provoking impression, The Room Next Door still has power, but not as much as it should. Blame the restrained aesthetics, light approach, and occasional conversational inelasticity.