“The Front Room” is the directorial debut of brothers Max and Sam Eggers (half-brothers of “The Lighthouse” director Robert Eggers, which Max co-wrote). The film is a domestic nightmare set to screen: a psychic stab at the stereotypical horrific mother-in-law with absurdity and surrealism twisting the knife. Set primarily in the confines of the home, this claustrophobic aspect collides with the overstimulation of the monster-in-law’s needy, nitpicking demeanor. The premise proposes a battle of wits and control via a brewing storm between the two leads that never really comes to pass.
Belinda (Brandy Norwood) is a non-tenured professor at a local college, and treated as an adjunct, fails to find fulfillment and recognition in her position. The fact of her very pregnant belly, and the consequence of an upcoming maternity leave, does little to assist in the upward mobility she desperately desires, and she quits. Her public defender husband, Norman (Andrew Burnap), is a tender support system for her, but as will later be affirmed through higher stakes, lacks the teeth to rally behind his wife with anything more than some less-than-confident words of affirmation. With Belinda’s fresh unemployment and a public defender’s salary expected to hold up an expecting household, the couple struggles to find footing amidst the financial stress.
When Norman’s estranged father dies, with high levels of trepidation and discomfort, they attend the funeral and reunite with his highly religious, equally estranged step mother-in-law, Solange (Kathryn Hunter). With the couple cornered between the overbearing weight of her presence and that of the pastor, Solange offers to pay off their mortgage and leave them as the sole beneficiaries of her will, but only if they take her in to live out what is left of her life. Norman recoils, but with a baby on the way and their bank accounts below deck, Belinda pushes back, asserting that the pros must outweigh the cons, declaring that all too familiar “she can’t be that bad.” And so, she is moved into the front room of the couple’s home, giving the film its name.
“The Front Room” takes time to settle in narratively and tonally, leaving the viewer waiting to figure out what exactly they’re watching. While genre isn’t the determinant of the film’s efficacy, the duration spent weighing their loyalty to the absurd is confounding. However, once the Eggers Brothers make their choice, they revel in it. Frankly, “The Front Room’s” primary storytelling avenue is silliness. The tension that the film’s marketing would lead you to expect doesn’t much exist. In part, this is on account of the one-beat characters who leave nothing much to surprise. Solange is the worst feasible old person. She is disrespectful, needy, racist, conniving, and ungrateful. She will go to any length to drive a wedge between Belinda and Norman, including intentional incontinence (which plays a major part in the film’s gross-out humor).
There’s a clear throughline between the infant on the way and the paradoxical elderly baby they’ve taken on. The aforementioned incontinence (from feces to spit up and all in between) to the childish antics of Solange’s behavior drive the film’s humor and stakes. It’s effective about half of the time and heavy-handed the rest. Still, without Hunter’s devotion, “The Front Room” would be a hollow tale. Hunter brings her premier physical performance (“The Tragedy of Macbeth” being arguably her strongest showcase) to what otherwise feels like faded ink on the page, helmed by lackluster supporting performances. Norwood, who shares the screen in equal measure, is incredibly flat, delivering lines with obligatory conviction and little nuance. Belinda’s writing evolves from pushover to stalwart adversary at the drop of a hat. Burnap’s childish timidity is believable but ultimately humdrum, as his character lacks any arc or backbone.
Belinda’s previous miscarriage is a too-slight, underutilized quality within the story. But it’s worth noting for the ways it contributes to the film’s ideas about motherhood and how power contributes to making a house a home. Yet all things considered, the shallow depth of the script and the flimsy performances feel like the consequential background to make way for platforming Solange’s bodily hijinks and audacious commentary. “The Front Room” is a bold, provocative debut, and there’s respect to be had for the Eggers brothers committing to the bit (even as it tires out). It’s passable for an easy watch and some uncomfortable chuckles but is bearable only on behalf of Hunter’s loyal antagonism while falling short just about everywhere else.
