To live or to die is a decision many of us are probably reluctant to address. The fear of this great unknown is enough to keep the notion at bay. But what if we were to find ourselves dealing with a terminal illness with little hope for the future? Would we be willing to nobly soldier on, knowing that our circumstances are only going to get worse, or would we choose to transition to what’s next on our own time and under our own terms? Such is the scenario involving two old friends, Martha (Tilda Swinton), a former war correspondent who has lived a rich, full life but is now afflicted with terminal cancer, and Ingrid (Julianne Moore), a successful author who recently penned a book detailing her personal fear of death. When Martha’s condition takes a turn for the worse and her joy of living rapidly begins vanishing, she decides she wants to pass on before she significantly deteriorates. She willfully chooses to die with dignity in a comfortable and beautiful setting of her choosing. But she doesn’t want to be alone when the time comes: She wants to be in the presence of a compassionate soul in those final moments, someone not to act as a facilitator but who can provide company, comfort and support “in the room next door” as she slips away. And so it’s indeed ironic when Martha asks Ingrid to be that person. It’s a proposal about which Ingrid has serious reservations, but she also recognizes that she can’t in all good conscience turn her back on a friend. These circumstances also provide her with an opportunity to face firsthand the fears she’s just written about. But, those well-intentioned considerations aside, how will matters unfold for all concerned when events are no longer theoretical and turn real? That’s what writer-director Pedro Almódovar explores in his latest feature offering, providing viewers with a thoughtful, profound yet practical and eminently moving take on a controversial subject, one that’s been surfacing more candidly and more frequently in public discourse than it once did and that carries myriad ramifications ethically, emotionally and legally. While the film periodically veers off onto somewhat unrelated narrative tangents and occasionally becomes a little too talky for its own good (qualities that often encroach upon Almódovar’s works), this is arguably one of the filmmaker’s finest efforts both in terms of the sensitivity employed in the treatment of its subject, as well as in raising questions about the validity and propriety of right to die matters. It’s particularly noteworthy for the superb performances of its two principals, both of whom turn in some of the best work of their careers, as evidenced by Swinton’s Golden Globe Award nomination for best lead actress in a drama. It’s long been believed that none of us will know the time when we’ll pass, that it’s something left up to fate. But must it be that way, especially if we deliberately put our minds to our circumstances? “The Room Next Door” gives us much to ponder in this regard, showing us how leaving matters to chance ultimately might not be the wisest or most fulfilling course for all of us to follow.

Bold as always, Spanish master Pedro Almodóvar elegantly tackles the touchiest of subjects for his first English-language feature. And it's a film that could change your mind about euthanasia. _The Room Next Door_ peels back the very layered onion of the right-to-die movement with an emotional heartbeat that’s truly rewarding to watch. It’s strong, yet wonderfully nuanced; it features two sublime actresses at the very top of their game; and – dare we say it – this so-called tragic drama even has its laugh out loud moments. If this were another drama (or a Hollywood weepie), you might expect Ingrid to plead with Martha to reconsider. Instead, Almodóvar introduces far more interesting thought bubbles. When they begin to have minor disagreements, it feels like small scabs being picked off a much bigger wound. There’s a shadow living with them – an elephant in the room next door, lying in wait to land a crushing blow. _The Room Next Door_’s final act is a thought-provoking look at the right to die, and the uneasy ways this moral argument grinds its cogs alongside the laws we’ve created. Technically, Ingrid commits a felony - but Almodóvar is asking, _did Ingrid do anything wrong?_ With its gentle quality, it’s hard not to take _The Room Next Door_ home with you. Yes, it’s a death-affirming story. And yet by probing the delicacy of our short lifespans – time spent writing about warfare, and painting, and breathing mountain air, and making love – it’s also a deeply life-affirming one. Read our full review at https://good.film/guide/the-room-next-door-could-change-your-mind-about-euthanasia

Successful writer "Ingrid" (Julianne Moore) is signing some books when one of her friends informs her that old pal "Martha" (Tilda Swinton) is suffering from cancer. Upon visiting her in hospital, she discovers that things aren't looking so good and over the following days the two start to become closer, sharing confidences and becoming quite inter-reliant. When an experimental treatment fails to deliver, the former war reporter "Martha" makes quite a bold proposal to her friend that will require them to retreat to a quiet residence in Woodstock where she will take matters into her own hands. Initially quite wary of this plan, "Ingrid" must decide whether or not she wishes to help - with all the moral and legal ramifications that involves, and so she turns to both of these women's ex-boyfriend "Damian" (John Turturro) for advice as she wrestles with her conscience. The concept here is really quite poignant, especially in light of reinvigorated conversations here in the UK about the rights of the terminally ill to make their own choices without fear of those they leave behind being persecuted by either the law or the zealous but I can't say I loved the presentation or the style. Far too much of the dialogue between the two women seems more aimed at filling-in the audience rather than on building a rapport between them. Things that they would have to have known about the other are presented in all too sterile a fashion, and at times I wondered if there wasn't a fair degree of dubbing going on too. Indeed, the whole thing deals with some seriously emotional issues in a remarkably sterile fashion. Both actors deliver strongly, but their dynamic isn't convincing - well, it wasn't for me, and the surfeit of verbiage rather suffocated the emotional impact the film could have made. Alex Høgh Andersen sheds his Viking leathers to remind us briefly of the ghastliness of the Vietnam war but otherwise this is largely down to the two characters dealing with a scenario we all dread, just not terribly convincingly.