S Poddar
Brandy Norwood returns to horror with a striking performance in The Front Room, a debut feature from Max and Sam Eggers. While The Front Room threatens to become some sort of psychological horror experience akin to Hereditary or Talk To Me, it suddenly starts wearing its campier surrealist heart on its sleeve. The Front Room, unfortunately, is a bit of a mixed bag, but Norwood’s Belinda stands out as a beacon in the muddy narrative.
Belinda, a very pregnant anthropology professor, navigates a set of private and public humiliations with equanimity. Her apathetic students, the patronizing academic administration: she lets it all slide. But her forbearance is truly pressed when Norman, her husband, is forced to welcome his imperious stepmother, Solange, into their lives. Kathryn Hunter gives a performance of Solange that’s unsettling yet absorbing, adding an extra layer of intensity to the film that keeps audiences on edge.
The plot is very thin, particularly with respect to the relationship between Belinda and Norman. Norman himself, a public defender, doesn’t amount to much more than his work and platitudes of support as he gets outshined by these vibrant individuals that Belinda and Solange are. Their new home-a creaky old mansion-sets the stage for Solange’s unsettling presence in insinuating herself into their lives for financial support.
Solange’s character is a blend of southern gothic menace and Christian mysticism, with a touch of unnerving charisma that makes her both repulsive and fascinating. Her presence is disruptive, taking over the nursery, undermining Belinda’s confidence, and asserting control over the household. Hunter’s performance is particularly effective in these moments, balancing menace with dark humor.
As the story progresses, Belinda’s physical and emotional strength weakens due to pregnancy strain and the performance of an emergency C-section. In their turns, the demands from Solange become increasingly burdensome, making Belinda’s life a nightmare of caretaking. This theme is explored in this film with a dark comedic edge that will engage viewers into the grotesque and absurd realities of caregiving.
With its promising setup, The Front Room fails to sustain any suspense or fully commit to the camp madness it flirts with. It hints at various provocative themes—Solange’s supernatural abilities, tension from an interracial marriage, Belinda’s reverence for pre-Christian gods—but fails to develop any of them in a meaningful way. The result is a film that’s handsome but emotionally and thematically hollow.
The Front Room does have a few memorable moments, particularly for the strong-stomached. The film’s indulgence in the grotesque reaches its pinnacle in scenes that focus on the physicality of caregiving-particularly, the mess and discomfort involved in tending to both an infant and an incontinent elder. It gets awkward and darkly humorous at once, adding a unique flavor to the overall tone of the film.
Brandy Norwood saves this film because of the depths she goes to in portraying the psyche of a woman under attack. She’s able to show her vulnerability and strength, which makes her stand out in this film that seems to go every which way. The third act is uneven, but that satisfying twist ties a bow on the tension between Belinda and Solange, leading to one final moment of well-deserved retribution.
While not entirely succeeding on either level as psychological thriller or campy horror, The Front Room does at least provide a stage for Norwood to strut her stuff. Which, along with Hunter’s truly unsettling performance as Solange, is reason enough to watch this, even if the film fails to live up to its full potential. As the saying goes, hell hath no fury like a mother-in-law scorned-and The Front Room captures that truth with chilling precision.
