First up, we have "Room" adapted from the bestselling novel (which happens to be one of my personal favorites). I was very excited when I heard that this was going to get a film adaptation, and rightfully so: the execution is almost entirely flawless. The film follows the story of five-year-old Jack and his young mother, "Ma", as they spend their days residing in a small space only known as "Room". To Jack, Room is his entire world; he was born there, and knows of nothing beyond the metal door. However, Ma knows the truth: to her, Room is her prison, a cell which she must inhabit after being kidnapped and raped several years ago. As she struggles to be a source of strength for her son, she grows evermore desperate to escape their situation...but how will Jack find his place in this new world?
The cinematography is such that the audience feels how cramped and claustrophobic Room is, yet it also expands it in a way that matches how Jack sees it truly as being his entire world. The movie starts out as dark, although it strangely feels calm, bringing in and highlighting the characters of both Jack and Ma, and the different mentalities they possess. As we step out into the real world, everything seems far too bright at first: again, bringing us into the perspectives of two characters who haven't seen much sunlight in almost a decade. However, as Jack adapts to his new environment, it takes on a warmer feel to it, and the winter setting presents a feeling of tranquility and peace, emphasizing their new beginning now that the chaos is over.
Brie Larson and Jacob Tremblay have wonderfully developed chemistry, and both offer stellar performances. Larson captures her character's maternal affection, but also knows when to bring in the desperation, depression, and fear. There is a strong sense that Ma wants to protect Jack while they are in Room, although when they actually return to the real world, she loses her grip on sanity and the reality of her situation smacks her right in the back of the head. Larson's transition from strength to emotional instability and severe dependency does not feel forced; her progression is stable, and it is backed by a lot of strong emotion that packs a hard punch.
Tremblay is appropriately naïve, yet shows many subtle hints of maturity that makes his character truly unique. This has to be one of the best child performances I have ever witnessed. Jack is smart, and learns to be strong, but he is still a kid in the sense that he doesn't truly understand the severity of the situation. His innocence is appropriate and believable. (I dare anyone who watches this to not burst into tears as Ma, after an apparent suicide attempt, admits to him that she hasn't been a good Ma, to which he answers, "But you're still Ma.") He only wishes to care for Ma, the person he is closer to than anyone else. Ma, much like Room, is his entire world, and it is delivered in an outstanding manner.
Which is why this film is such a success: it always comes back to both of the principal characters. They build off of each other, have expert synchronization in their actions and reactions, and create a world that is, in an original sense, strangely affectionate and hopeful despite the subject matter of the film. All I can say is that Larson had better win the Oscar this year; "Room" is utterly fascinating, and truly a sight to behold.
Overall rating: 10/10
Every so often, there comes a film that causes filmmakers such as myself to think, "This is why I want to make films." And "Synecdoche, New York" certainly does not disappoint in any aspect of its story or presentation.
The film is, to simplify the basic storyline, about a theater director, Caden, whose personal life is falling apart as he builds a life-size model of NYC in a warehouse in preparation for his big show. Along the way, he deals with lingering health issues, failed relationships, and an incredible sense of self-doubt and almost failed discovery. But all of that is, of course, just the basics. There is so much going on in this movie, you can watch it thousands of times and always find something new. Everything, from words in the dialogue to subtle actions to timing and blocking and editing, is all done like clockwork: everything is there for a reason, everything has a purpose, everything is sending a message.
A phrase that is consistently repeated in some way throughout the film is the fact that "the end is built into the beginning". And from the very opening shot, this phrase is visualized and proven: the opening shot is a gray fade, which is also what ends the film. Also, in the beginning of the film, Caden's wife Adele continuously coughs, which harkens to the ending, in which she dies of lung cancer. The entire opening morning scene also jumps around with times and dates (in a very subtle manner), so even though it appears to be one day, it is in fact a presentation of several weeks, but showing that it's only the same routine over and over again. The entire film showcases the passage of time in that it is both inevitable and it gives and takes whatever you encounter in life. There is also the theme of how death, the end of a person's "timeline", is the great equalizer. While Caden obsesses over his health issues, he eventually dies, as does his wife Adele; although they are different, they end up in the same place.
I also liked how this film really played with the "meta" aspect of what filmmakers are often afraid to portray, as it is a delicate technique that presents a huge risk in completely deconstructing your entire diegesis. Here, it is done in a way that totally makes sense. Caden constructs NYC inside of his own small "world", and fills it with look-alikes, even reaching the point where he casts his ex-wife's custodian as himself. This was particularly poignant to my understanding of the film because as Caden;s life withers away, it becomes apparent that his parts of "lost" or "yearning" begin to physicalize and separate themselves from his entire identity. This is presented in the character Sammy, who is obsessed with Caden and eventually becomes involved in his romantic relationships, insinuating that Caden is losing his sense of self. This is solidified in the ending, where his model NYC is torn apart by an unexplained force, killing everyone except the actress playing Ellen's mother. At this point, he is wearing a headset that gives him instructions, but as he lays to rest and proclaims that he finally knows how to do his play, he is instructed to "Die", and does so. The gray slate then brings the film full circle, showing how "the end is built into the beginning."
This film is a martyr in that it died financially and in terms of virtually no distribution, yet it is probably one of the most transcendental pieces of art I have ever witnessed. The performances are all excellent, the themes are strong and real, and the entire thing is so detailed that it surprises you every time. Simply put (though the film is the farthest thing from simple), "Synecdoche, New York" is a modern masterpiece.
Overall rating: 10/10
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