Brie Larson plays Joy, a woman held captive in a room for seven years, and her performance carries the weight of that entire prison. Room is a film about confinement, love, and the terror of being found. It is also a film about a boy named Jack, played by Jacob Tremblay, who has never known any other world than the four walls he shares with his mother.
The film opens on the room itself, a single space with a bed, a table, and a television. Joy and Jack live there with nothing but each other. The film does not flinch from the horror of their situation, but neither does it wallow in it. The relationship between mother and son remains tender and funny even as the danger grows closer.
“We’re safe in here.”
That line, spoken by Joy, captures the whole film’s tension. She protects Jack by pretending the room is everything, while she knows the outside holds far greater danger.
Trailer, via A24.
Joy’s Captivity
Joy’s capture is not explained in detail. The film shows only fragments of her past, brief scenes of a life before the room. What we see is enough to understand that her confinement was sudden and complete. Larson plays the terror and the numbness with equal skill, and her face tells us more than any dialogue could.
Jack, on the other hand, has never known freedom. He treats the television as a window into the world, a source of stories and songs. Tremblay gives Jack a child’s curiosity and a child’s trust, which makes the film’s later turn all the harder to bear.
The Rescue
The film’s middle portion follows the rescue, and it is here that Room earns its reputation for difficulty. The scenes of Joy and Jack emerging into the wider world are not comforting. They are full of confusion, fear, and grief. The film refuses to let the characters’ relief settle into happiness. Instead, it watches them struggle with what they have lost and what they have gained.
Joy’s Return Home
After the rescue, Joy returns to her family home. The house is large and strange to her after the room. Her mother, played by Joan Allen, struggles to understand Joy’s trauma. Larson’s performance in these scenes is quiet and devastating. She shows a woman who cannot explain what happened to her, and who fears she never will.
The Boy’s Grief
Jack’s grief runs parallel to his mother’s. He misses the room, the only home he ever knew. The film does not soften this. It lets Jack feel abandoned by the very freedom he was promised. Tremblay’s performance here is the film’s true center. He makes Jack’s loss real, and it cuts through the adult drama around him.
Room ends without resolving everything. Joy and Jack are still healing, still searching for each other, still trying to find their way back to some version of normal. The film trusts its audience to sit with that discomfort rather than dressing it up in a happy ending.
Room is a difficult film, and it is a great one. It asks viewers to look at suffering without turning away, and it rewards that attention with performances that are among the finest of their careers. Larson and Tremblay carry the weight of the entire story, and the film never once lets them drop it.
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