1 INT. ROOM - NIGHT 1
Darkness. The faint background hum of a refrigerator. A light
clicks on, briefly, then snaps off again.
Then on again, for a little longer.
We wake groggily with JACK (five), blinking up at MA (26).
She's standing in a worn t-shirt and underwear beside a lamp,
switching it on and off at apparently random intervals. She
cranes up at the recessed skylight, Room's only window.
The irregular flashes of lamp-light reveal glimpses of this
little world lined with cork: ten foot a side, seven foot
high, gabled ceiling rising to ten foot.
Clusters of Jack's and Ma's vivid drawings are pinned all
over the walls, quivering in the draft from the vents. Done
with five crayons (red, yellow, blue, orange, green) and
pencil on toilet tissue, lined pages or cardboard, they show
dogs, trees, aliens, rocket ships, figures labelled 'Jack' or
'Ma'. Delicate mobiles (uncooked spaghetti, threads,
plastics, foil, down from pillows, cloth scraps) dangle.
A wardrobe with slatted louver doors. On top, toys crafted
from garbage, a Labyrinth from toilet-roll insides.
A dresser with a TV. A homemade pack of cards, papier m.ch.
checkers and chess. A Fort constructed from vitamin and other
bottles and cans. A single meagre African violet in a pot on
A round dining table, two fold-up chairs side by side.
A bath with a single small towel over the side.
A toilet, with a flotilla of homemade toy boats floating in
the tank which is oddly missing a lid.
A sink, with a single worn toothbrush, toothpaste, dish soap,
a broken comb, folded rags for washcloths. A small square of
mirror tile hung up over it.
A small kitchen cabinet. A dish rack: two each of big and
small white plates, bowls, tumblers, knives, forks, spoons
(one with a melted handle), a scissors, can opener, serrated
knife, wooden spoon, spatula.
A basic stove (with more folded rags on its handle, for pot
holders), one frying pan and one saucepan.
A small refrigerator (more toys on top), a tiny trash.
A rocker. Above, a shelf. Ten books stacked. Homemade toys.
A reddish Persian-style rug on the floor.
A grey steel door, no handle. On the wall, a ten-digit
keypad with a red light like a watching eye.
Ma looks over at Jack and sees that he's awake. She mouths
'Sh' at him, soothing him back to sleep. Keeps signalling.
Darkness again, as Jack's eyelids fall.
2 INT. ROOM - DAY 2
Faint light. Jack and Ma sleep face to face in a double bed
under a thin quilt. Pale skin, long hair, wearing t-shirts.
You cried all day and left TV on
till you were a zombie. But then I
zoomed down from heaven through
Skylight into Room -
(makes noise of descent,
then crash landing)
and I was kicking you from the
inside, boom boom, and then I shot
out onto Rug with my eyes wide
open, and you cutted the cord and
said “Hello Jack.”
Ma. I’m five!
3 INT. ROOM - DAY 3
A little later, Ma, at the kitchen counter, measures out two
small bowls of cereal.
Jack moves round Room touching things: Rug's rusty bloodstain
from his birth; the scarred Table; chairs; faucets, etc.
Morning lamp, Morning rug, Morning
(he looks under the bed)
Morning Eggsnake. It's my birthday.
Ma puts breakfast on the table. Sits.
Jack sits, too. Ma gives him a half vitamin pill from an
almost empty tub. She takes a contraceptive pill from a
generic pack. They start to eat. Ma winces.