This movie won’t speak the same to everyone if it does at
all. The one thing it will do for everyone is wipe the palate clean. For the
last year or so plus there have been no shortage of movies taking place in or
around Mexico, but they have all featured in some way a gang of a cartel or a
kingpin. It’s very avant-garde in subscription TV services to frame a drug lord’s
story as some rags-to-riches come-up. (Boy, do I have words about that.) There’s
none of that here. And if I didn’t tell you that the movie takes place in
Mexico City circa 1970 you probably would never know by just watching. That is
the place, and this is the story.
ROMA takes place
in Roma: specifically, it takes place in the urban, middle-class Mexico City
neighborhood of the same name. The subject of the film is a well-to-do family compromised
of a doctor, a scientist, their four children and the maternal grandmother.
Their story is seen through the eyes of the live-in maids that share their
large home; the chief POV is that of Cleo (Yalitza Aparicio), a young servant from a poor village
outside the city.
ROMA at the core
is a slice-of-life showcase. It is the very definition of “arthouse” right down
to being filmed in black-and-white. Alfonso Cuaron – who made one
of my all-time favorites, Children of Men
(oh, and some flick called Gravity if
you’ve heard of that) – pulled double duty as director and cinematographer. He
was asked why, in an interview, why his longtime DP “Chivo” Lubzeki wasn’t
involved with his most personal project to date. It was simply a matter of
time. Chivo didn’t have time in his life to professionally devote himself to
what quickly ballooned into a mammoth shooting schedule. 108 filming days. All
of them earned.
Another point of the above conversation with Alfonso is how
many conventions he had to forgo in order to make this movie. Using non-actors
and large, outdoor locations and indoor sets with complex blocking. The
result, whether intended or not, is a Rockwell come to life. There are many
shots that bleed on for thirty seconds or more. A clear message from the director
saying, “Sketch this now.” Everything from the framing to the sound design was
scripted meticulously, lovingly, by Alfonso and it’s apparent from the opening
frames.
No doubt you’ve heard the old phrase “It takes a village to
raise a child.” ROMA is that phrase expanded
into an austere epic. It’s an ode from the director to the women that helped
raise him. The powerful, miraculous women breaking their backs, sometimes
literally, to keep their families and themselves together. This includes the
mother of the young family who we see suffering through a quiet, but dramatic
separation. It affects her, the kids, and the adults caring for them, as the home
deteriorates physically and emotionally.
The kids are sweet, if a little rambunctious. Three boys and
one girl move through the house like a whirlwind. The youngest is a boy named
Pepe. He’s adorable and whatever feelings you have about kids in film, this
little guy is a marvel. His running thread is recalling past adventures from
when he was “older.” Once a fighter pilot; later as a ship’s captain. You could
either pass it off as nonsensical child’s speak or headcanon him, as I do, as
a primordial guardian. His was a delightful presence.
We even see Cleo begin a romance of her own. It goes well
enough – until it doesn’t. And soon Cleo finds herself alone just like her
boss. This is as close to a subplot as we get in this movie free of classic
A-to-B storytelling as this young servant girl’s personal story is superimposed
onto a period of political upheaval in Mexico City. A clash between students
and city officials that leads to a tragedy and one of the most arresting
sequences I’ve seen in a movie this year. Later, when we see Cleo coming to
terms with the events, is the best example of this film’s artistry.
Funny that
my favorite shot is also the least complicated, but I think it works precisely
for that reason. It’s Cleo sitting in her room – centered in the frame –
as a storm of sadness cascades down her face. A brutal combination of
Postpartum Depression and PTSD. Brilliantly acted; thoughtfully composed;
gorgeous in subject, concept and execution. This frame alone could see Alfonso
get his first Academy Award for Best Cinematography.
Purely from a standpoint of technical prowess this movie is
flawlessly done. We don’t grade on technique alone here, though. The question as
always is, who is the movie for? Undoubtably, the movie is for the film buffs
who wouldn't even step sideways near a multipliex. It’s also for the director
himself who draws heavily from his own upbringing in his native Mexico. The
good thing, though, about Netflix distributing this movie is that everyone has
a chance to see it. Everyone should
see it.
This is a story for everyone who thinks of a certain group
of people in a certain type of way. The citizens of Central America who have
been described as invaders and criminals and rapists. They are…wait for it…none
of these things. They’re parents. They’re cousins. They’re mother. They have
families. They hold parties. They dance and eat and drink together. At one point
in the movie during Christmas festivities a section of forest is set ablaze by
an errant fireworks display. The. Entire. Village. Leaves the party to go fight
the fire. This is a community effort. In front of and behind the camera.
These are people. Just like you. Just like me. They don’t
want to take your jobs or your Michigan summer homes. They want a quiet life, a
safe future for their kids and a chance to listen to their records in peace. A
family comes in all sizes. That’s the thesis of ROMA. The children have their mother, yes. They also have their
grandmother and their driver and the two maids who bathe and feed them.
A distraught Sofia stumbles into the house and tells Cleo
that they are alone. “No matter what they say, women are always alone.” But
that isn’t true. The women have each other. And that’s the way it should be.
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