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Tilda Swinton: "The Room Next Door"

 Tilda Swinton has the "glamorous" role in the new Almodovar film; it's Swinton who has a Golden Globe nomination. But my heart belongs to Julianne Moore. It's always Moore's character whom I "relate to" when I hear this story. 


Moore is a weird, mostly isolated writer who spends her free time reading Sigrid Nunez novels and thinking about a possible "Virginia Woolf project." (Famously, Nunez, the inspiration for the Almodovar film, wrote an entire novel, "Mitz," about Woolf's pet marmoset.)

Moore agrees to help Swinton with a major endeavor, because she wishes to be a good friend, but also, I suspect, because she wants access to good material. ("Writers are like cockroaches," Nunez says. "Tell us the novel is dead, and we'll just publish our diaries, and we'll say it's a new genre, autofiction....") Moore asks Swinton, "May I tell your story?" -- and I can't be alone in wondering if Nunez took time to ask this same question of Susan Sontag, before the drafting of "Sempre Susan."

On the surface, Moore's role is passive--but we get occasional suggestions of a subterranean storminess. When Moore briefly, mistakenly thinks that Swinton has offed herself, Moore vomits in the sink. Later, Moore subtly steers Swinton toward a revision of the euthanasia plan. (Swinton is right to feel irritated.) Finally, Moore agrees to watch "The Dead" with Swinton, and we spot Moore silently weeping (maybe not because of the movie, but because of the absurdity of the situation Moore has found herself in).

In the final scenes, Moore becomes heroic, coolly dismissing a brutal police officer, and handling Swinton's bratty daughter with empathy. I don't know if any real person has the self-possession Moore's character has in these last few minutes--but now we all have something to aspire to.

It would be nice to hear about a bit more awards recognition for Moore.
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