Posted by The Front Room; 2024; written and directed by Sam & Max Eggers from a short story by Susan Hill; Starring Brandy Norwood, Katheryn Hunter, and Andrew Burnap; Rated R; A24; 1h38m; Theatrically released September 6th
It’s long been a trope of movies, sitcoms, and bad comedians to harp upon the terrible mother-in-law. I’m lucky in my real life to have a wonderful mother-in-law. Jennie Irvine, if you’re reading this, you’re a great person! Unfortunately for put-upon Belinda, her mother-in-law, Solange, is no Jennie Irvine, but a hellish monster of a person. How so? Well, that changes from scene to scene – one of the many frustrations of the perplexing and messy The Front Room.
The Front Room, based on a short story by Susan Hill (The Woman in Black), is written and directed by Max and Sam Eggers, brothers to The Witch, The Lighthouse, and The Northman’s Robert Eggers. (I can’t wait for hiSupcoming Nosferatu.) He must have owed A24 a favor to get them to produce and release this flick as it seems like all the talent went into Robert. Here’s an issue where nepotism doesn’t get good results (for a better “related to famous people” flick, check out Zoe Kravitz’s Blink Twice). Outside of an entertaining performance by Katheryn Hunter as Solange, and some of Brandy’s unintentionally entertaining facial expressions, The Front Room doesn’t have much to offer.
The main issue is that the Eggers can’t decide what type of movie they want. The story, as it is, is a simple one: Belinda and Norman (Andrew Burnap) are in dire straights, without money, and about to become parents again after a previous child died, and they allow his estranged step-mother Solange move in (guess where she lives in their house) with her promises to help them financially. As to be expected, Solange is hellish to deal with. She’s mean, abusive, passive-aggressive, she says off-hand perhaps racist comments, she’s in a cultish end of Christianity, and she might be having medical and mental issues. Or is she?
The frustrating answer to “What’s the matter with Solange?” is “Yes. All of them, depending on what scene we’re in.” The nature of the conflict with Solange is continually shifting. We expect a change or two as details are found and the movie unfolds but it’s ultimately slapdash and almost random.
Is Solange messing with everyone to be mean because that’s who she is? Is she a full-on racist trying to destroy Brandy. Or her son? Is this a weird cult thing? There’s the briefest moment when it seems Belinda’s anthropology background vs Solange’s faith will be the conflict. For a little while, Solange is supernatural. It may also just simply be dementia, which leads to an uncomfortable feeling of watching our heroine commit elder abuse for ninety minutes.
Pick a lane, decide the focus, and stick with it. It’s almost as if the Eggers wrote and filmed each idea and used a blender to decide where to go next. And like Afraid from last week, middle points in the character’s “arcs” are lost to editing, leading to very out-of-nowhere shifts in what they feel about one another or a situation. Heck, the film can’t set its own tone; sometimes from performances and musical choices to a dark comedy or satire, but quickly abandons it.
I’ll admit, it may be designed to be a dark comedy or a genre satire all through, just failing at it. Thanks to the one consistent high point in Katheryn Hunter’s performance. While Hunter has been around for a while, she’s caught more people’s (including my own) attention with roles of The Witches in Joel Coen’s The Tragedy of Macbeth, the overbearing Imperial mom in Andor, and the brothel owner in Poor Things. She plays the whole film, no matter what mode Solange is in for the particular scene as a comedy. She’s a joy to watch, chewing the scenery with aplomb. As for the rest? Brandy Norwood does what she can, giving a broad showing but feeling lost – no doubt thanks to a different set of directions every day. Thus, the broadness becomes big, showy, and funny. Burnap is a mannequin, no matter what track the flick is on.
If the Eggers had chosen where they wanted the film to go (no blame on Hill, the film takes some basics from her story and does its own thing), The Front Room could have been at least decent. They shoot it well with Ava Berkofsky; there would have been an overbearing uncomfortableness to the look if the film around it worked. More focus, and Hunter’s performance would carry it the rest of the way with the help of Norwood if she knew where to point herself. As a final nail in the coffin, the film ends with a major whiff, pushing the audience out of the auditorium with a “What?”
The Front Room is a rare miss for A24 with a frustratingly unfocused story, albeit led by a great dark comedy performance by Katheryn Hunter.
D
