The Front Room isn’t as much a horror film as an invasion film. But whereas the average invasion film is for the state of the world, this is for the power of the home; as Kathryn Hunter’s stepmother figure takes hostage of her carers as she spreads her deep and strong belief in orthodox Christian faith in this clash of generational cultures. The film opens with Belinda played by Brandy Norwood, going for her first scan. There are nerves about the safety of the baby, whether it will be healthy and whether it will be happy. Belinda is nervous about the birth and ponders “Am I supposed to be a mum”; slowly losing her grip on academia as her University hires people to fill the role, there is a helplessness as she is shoehorned into the mother figure. Something she will obtain as the film progresses. Meanwhile, her workaholic husband, Norman (Andrew Burnap) finds out that his father has passed away. At the funeral they find out, they will inherit all of his, and his wife, Norman’s stepmother’s fortune, enough to pay off their mortgage and be free of the chains of financial instability. However, stepmother, Solange, portrayed brilliantly by the riotous Kathryn Hunter, is not an easy woman to deal with, as Norman states, she believes she is possessed by the holy spirit.
The expectant couple invite Solange into their home, a dilapidated and crumbling home within a suburban setting; full of outdated décor and the aura of a couple with little time to fill their home, using it more of a place of rest and storage than of family time. As Solange enters with her two canes thudding like John Williams’s Jaws score, making you notice each thud edge closer into your surroundings, she chooses the front room, set to become the baby’s nursery. A room respected more in a bygone society, of frivolous house parties, rather than that of the new generation who tend to use house space for offices or games rooms. The Front Room is a metaphor for the film’s acknowledgement of generational change. Indeed the purpose of the room shifts from newborn to elder. But as Belinda and Norman soon realise, there is a power to the Front Room, to constantly go past it, to have a view of the exterior. It is a room that demands attention, which Solange uses to weed her religious culture into their home, like a parasite slowly weaving its way into the body, taking over and controlling everything in its way, Solange is the conductor, the puppet master, and despite handing all her money to her step-son, she only needs her power of unfiltered persuasion.
The film, directed by Max and Sam Eggers, presents religion as a cult. During the funeral, the congregation surround Solange, draped in a black veil. Meanwhile, the Pastor comes over the Belinda and Norman, begging them to let Solange in their home, stating that’s what Norman’s father would have wanted. Throughout there is a sense of unsettling helplessness that engulfs the film, in both narrative, but more pertinently with style. For instance, Marcel Zarvos’s score is like a heartbeat, so loud it overpowers what is happening on screen, acting as a metaphor for the overwhelming nature of a first child. At other moments, classical music such as Ave Maria in an odd instrumentation adds to the unsettling nature of the film, with the choice of music representing Solange’s control over the house. As the film continues it is not only the music that shows the control of the step-mother, but also the change in décor and costume design as Solange slowly wears deep, bold reds, compared to the earth tones of Belinda and Norman.
The reason to see the film is undoubtedly the riotous Kathryn Hunter. Her stepmother figure is manipulative and conniving, but also is shown to have some spiritual power, for instance knowing that the baby will be a girl before she is told. Hunter’s animated performance is great fun, fully manipulating each scene as we emotionally sway from despair to uncomfortable laughter as she invades the home both in terms of land, attention, and religious and political beliefs.
However, whilst having a lot of interesting technical components and strong performances, it never fully explores its premise, and you are waiting for the film to go somewhere with the interesting struggle between Brandy Norwood’s Belinda and Hunter’s Solange. There is one dining room scene, where there is quiet fury and fiery eruption, but these moments are never expanded on. At one point racial politics are brought up but never returned and the film slowly just fizzles out without saying or doing much.
The Front Room provides intrigue into the central struggle between an expectant mother and her spiritual stepmother-in-law who tries to infiltrate the home, however, the film doesn’t have much to comment on or provide any form of redemption or catharsis, whilst it will leave you screaming at the screen at the failure of the character’s to make simple decisions. Whilst it's clever in style, the lack of narrative progression or theme leaves the film quite empty despite Hunter’s riotous performance, perhaps the main, and possibly only reason to see the film.
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