TORONTO -- What if Plato's allegory of the cave was set in a gardening shed? It would be the kick-off idea for Room, a dark yet strangely sweet drama that inspired audiences to get out their hankies at the Toronto International Film Festival.
Jack (Jacob Tremblay) is celebrating his fifth birthday and lives with his mother (Brie Larson) in “Room,” a tiny structure from which they can't escape. They have the bare essentials resupplied each Sunday from a violent figure who kidnapped Larson seven years ago, and continues to assault her.
Now that Jack is five, “Ma” starts peeling back the curtain on some of the lies she's told him. There is an outside world, not just the skylight, the people on TV and Heaven. And she's got a scheme to get them out of there.
The escape sequence in Room, as is the whole picture, is shot in an extremely innovative manner. (You are going to have to get creative when the movie is set in a tiny box.) But what makes these scenes so engrossing are the performances.
[img src="http://admin.mashable.com/wp-content/uploads/2015/09/room.thm_.png" caption="Brie Larson in "Room."" credit="" alt="room.thm"]
Director Lenny Abrahamson (Frank) gets you bonded with these two quickly; it's the awfulness of their situation contrasted with their love and good humor. There's one shot in particular that may leave you gasping for breath.
The trouble comes when the film takes a mid-way turn, rolling-up and pulling the rug from under you. The storyline plays out in a logical and interesting fashion, but it's nothing like the pressure cooker of the beginning.
It doesn't help that some of the dialogue, written by the book's author Emma Donoghue, has a tendency to be a smidge on the nose.
Room does win points, though, for taking this risky route and continuing to play out long after other stories would have had its happy ending. The relationship dynamics are nuanced, messy and difficult to discuss in a review that tries to avoid spoilers.
Young Jacob Tremblay is feisty at times, mousy at others; a terrific kid performance. Anyone with a pulse will connect with Larson's efforts to do anything to protect her kid. The other star is Abrahamson's camera, which manages to make simple buildings and everyday objects look totally alien to the bewildered and overwhelmed lead characters.
It's hard to fire off flares and shout hallelujah for Room. At its best it is a delicate, small story with obvious allegories about child-rearing. But when the tension is cranked and there are slow motion shots with locked doors, terrified children, swelling music and obscured faces, this is movie making that gives the tear ducts a workout.