Here’s something I’ve recently come to accept as true: it’s beautiful, euphoric even, to have a film morph and shift in and out of shape before your eyes. This doesn’t mean that every experimental or arthouse film that attempts to mess with tone and narrative structure will garner this response, but it is an experience worth seeking. An example of a film that does this well is Guy Maddin and Evan Johnson’s The Forbidden Room, a 2015 Canadian film that you can find available for streaming on Netflix. I’d also recommend that you take a bath while watching. Trust me.
So what’s The Forbidden Room about? I’m not even going to attempt to answer that. I will say that the screenplay is rapid, energetic, and filled with a passion that explodes when paired with very distinctive visual effects and cinematography. Sometimes, characters tell tales of lost gods and faraway woods, and new vignettes emerge from their recollections. Other times, the camera zooms in on portions of the scene, which then become a sort of portal through which we can watch an entirely new story unfold. The whole film is drenched in nostalgia and psychedelia, and any idea that can be spoken or flashed on an intertitle (this film has segments that play out entirely in the style of early silent films) comes to life visually within seconds.
It’s like being presented with only the stem of some weird and beautiful concept, trying to imagine what it might look like, and then watching as it appears only moments later. It becomes quite the rewarding experience for those in the right state of mind. There are a number of aural and visual motifs worked in throughout as well, which give the film’s disjointed structure a sense of unity, even if it isn’t entirely clear what purpose they serve towards any kind of overall theme.
There are even moments of sheer profundity in The Forbidden Room, and they often come in the strangest or most unexpected of places. When your brain gets used to anything being possible, it becomes easier to be touched or changed by things, and I think that this fact is the key to appreciating Maddin and Johnson’s work. The film has genuine artistry and beauty at its core, despite the layers of humor and surreal pastiche that surround it. Maybe this is the titular room, a place in the very heart of the film that holds the significance of everything unfolding around it; too elusive to grasp for more than brief moments of excitement and awe. Or maybe I just don’t know what I’m talking about.
Anyway, as for flaws, the humor and absurdity of The Forbidden Room is great, but at times, it overstays its welcome. A few scenes feel somewhat incomplete, unnecessary, or unfunny when stacked against the film’s very best moments. These brief times are problematic because they take you out of the otherwise perfectly paced fever dream that is unfolding. I found them easy to forgive during a second viewing, however, as the weakest segments are almost always followed by the very strongest.
I can’t recommend this film enough, but again I must warn you: it isn’t an easy watch, and many will dislike it for its lack of coherent plot. If you take the plunge, I’d love to hear your reactions, be they positive or negative, because opinions aside, this is a great film to talk and reminisce about. And if you enjoy it, be on the lookout for Maddin’s next film—he’s quite prolific, so a brand new mind-bender is surely right around the corner.