“If I didn’t define myself for myself, I would be crunched into other people’s fantasies for me and eaten alive.”
― Audre Lorde
The above quote by American writer, philosopher, and intersectional feminist Audre Lorde seems appropriate when considering what is at the heart of the new psychological horror film The Front Room. The use of terrifying imagery, uncomfortable body horror, and fear are interwoven within a story about a Black woman’s dangerous journey in defining her womanhood and strength for herself in the face of dark forces that seek to suppress her power. The result is a wild movie ride that leans into bold and explosive scenes while still telling an intimate and relevant story.
Written and directed by Sam and Max Eggers in their feature film debut, The Front Room is based on a short story by author Susan Hill. The film stars music superstar Brandy Norwood as a young anthropology professor named Belinda, who is pregnant. Belinda is happily married to her husband, Norman.
Still, she is also dealing with the stress of pregnancy, not being appreciated at her job, and financial issues with the house the couple is still trying to pay off. Things take a turn when Norman’s father passes away, and the couple takes in his estranged elderly stepmother, Solange.
Solange is an overzealous Christian fanatic who seems determined to impose her religious values on Belinda’s house and family. Belinda soon finds herself fighting for her home and sanity as her mother-in-law becomes a dark force threatening the life Belinda and Norman have built.
The Front Room packs a lot in its one-hour and thirty-minute run time. On the surface, it seems like a battle of wills between two women, one of whom appears to have sinister intentions.
Compelling character
What gives this overt battle its compelling layers is the character of Belinda herself. She’s a Black woman curious about the world beyond Christian Western civilization.
She’s a forward-thinking professional dealing with disrespect in her predominately white work environment. She wants to be a mother but doesn’t want to lose her identity to motherhood, as she wants to have a career in academia.
None of this is an easy task, as the movie makes clear that Belinda deals with micro and macro aggressions in her daily life as a Black woman seeking joy and contentment. By creating a character like this, The Front Room elevates what could have been a run-of-the-mill story about a pregnant woman simply having only one goal to become a mom and stop anything that gets in her way.
That is because, as a Black woman, one could argue that Belinda’s very existence is often seen as “political” to many. She doesn’t fall into the stereotypical monotheistic religious worship frequently assigned to Black communities in popular culture.
She is also heavily pregnant, and while this is a fictional horror film, there’s nothing fictional about the horrors Black women face when pregnant. These real-life complications are often influenced by systemic racism within the healthcare system that indulges in out-of-date and debunked racial myths regarding biological differences between Black women and their white counterparts.
Federal data shows that African American mothers and their newborns have higher mortality rates in the United States than those of other races or ethnicities. The Front Room doesn’t overtly address this relevant issue, but that danger, doubt, and fear during Belinda’s pregnancy hangs heavy in the film in a subtle yet meaningful way.
This journey that Belinda is going through finds its ultimate antagonist in the character of Solange, played to devilish perfection by Kathryn Hunter. Solange is a Southern woman who looks at the old South as a fairytale legacy of heritage and pride, willfully ignoring its dark history of racialized terrorism.
She sees herself as the embodiment of the ultimate mother and Belinda (whose name she refuses to say correctly) as a wayward woman on her way to downfall. The micro and macro aggressions Belinda has had to contend with in her everyday life outside her home have seemingly moved in through Solange. Through that lens, the battle between these two women takes on an enormous symbolic significance.
What takes place is the audience witnessing Belinda battling for her right to define herself against a force that seeks to eat her identity alive, wanting her to conform to a Christian way of life and suppression that she had previously cast off.
The Front Room interweaves themes like this, along with religious trauma, with gothic imagery and uncomfortable body horror. There are some genuinely gross moments, but they seem fitting to reflect the uncomfortable situation Belinda has been put into.
Norwood and Hunter have amazing antagonistic chemistry. Norwood delivers a layered and compelling performance. Hunter is a powerhouse bursting with maniacal energy in every scene. Her physical mannerisms enhance her performance, further defining her character.
While the ending may feel slightly anti-climatic, the path to it holds most of the movie’s punch. There is a lot left for the audience to unpack once the credits roll, which will no doubt spark conversation regarding Belinda and Solange’s actions. And that’s what a quality movie should do—make you think about it long after you’ve left the theater.
The Front Room is out in theaters on September 6, 2024. The trailer can be viewed here.
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