“Good morning, plant.” “Good morning, toilet.” “Good morning, chair.” Jack (Jacob Tremblay) greets the things he has cohabited with his entire life, in the grungy, ramshackle shed where he and his mother (Brie Larson) are being held captive.
In the world of Room, objects do not have articles. The young boy anthropomorphised his scant possessions in an effort to create the companionship he has been starved of throughout his childhood. It’s soul-destroying to see someone so innocent undergo such an upheaval. The film is, to quote its rising star, an “emotional marathon.” Based on the eponymous Emma Donoghue novel, Room is a harrowing story of human endurance in which our protagonists – in a manner not dissimilar to Elisabeth Fritzl – must cling onto their last shreds of hope in order to finally taste freedom.
The circumstances underlying their imprisonment are initially obscure. Director Lenny Abrahamson skilfully narrates the movie from the child’s perspective, allowing the audience to have revelations about Ma’s capture along with him. Where are they? Why are they there? Have they always lived in Room? It’s mysterious. An abundance of tight camera angles increases the dank lodgings’ sense of oppression, as petering sunbeams peer in from the skylight. Scream all they want, they cannot be heard.
The subject matter is heavy, depressing even. Ma muffles her cries during Old Nick’s sexually abusive nocturnal visits; Jack strokes her bruise-patterned neck the following morning. It’s no better when they finally make it to the outside world. There are suicide attempts, invasive television interviews, psychiatrist appointments… The trailer is, understandably, misleading. I got the impression that, upon escaping, Jack would be frolicking in the fresh air, experiencing a whole cluster of brand new sensations. There’s a lot less gazing at natural phenomena and a lot more dealing with post-traumatic repercussions than I would’ve liked. Room is inherently downbeat. Not even its gratingly sappy soundtrack can fix that.
The performances, however, are astonishing. Jacob Tremblay deftly avoids the typical child actor pitfalls, mixing colours in his palette of feeling with surprisingly precocious skill. Everything – from his temper tantrums to his wide-eyed wonderment – is delivered realistically, complementing Brie Larson’s sensitive depiction of Ma. She is remarkable in Room.
Larson lost weight for the role, and stayed out of the sun for months to replicate the sallowness of incarceration victims. My tip for the Best Actress Oscar – watch this space. This was the moment that clinched it for me: when she is reunited with Jack after he evades their prison. The pulsating lights from the police car shine on her tear streaked face as she bundles her son against her quivering frame outside their jailhouse for the first time.
“You’re gonna love it,” she told Jack in Room. “What?” he enquired. “The world.”
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