Roma (2018)

☆ ☆ ☆ ☆ ☆

Roma (2018) – A. Cuarón

Alfonso Cuarón’s Mexican memoir is a tour-de-force of B&W cinematography (he shot the film himself, as well as wrote it, edited it, and directed it).  It feels as though we are back in the ‘50s or ‘60s watching the classic arthouse cinema of the time (I thought I caught a nod to Fellini in the traffic jam sequence) where every image is a revelation.  After a slow build that sets the stage, a Mexico City neighbourhood called Colonia Roma, and introduces the central character, a maid named Cleo (newcomer Yalitza Aparicio), it only gradually sinks in what a technical feat the film really is:  this version of Mexico City from 1970-71 no longer exists and has been completely, seamlessly, recreated for the camera (including cars, furniture, etc.).  But this is not really a neorealistic film -- we attain lift-off with the first of many surreal sequences:  on a date, her partner performs full frontal naked martial arts moves complete with Japanese commands.  Later, the camera is awestruck by a pro-wrestler doing yoga, a singing man in a strange costume during a bushfire, a student protest countered by the police, kids in the maid’s charge nearly drowning in huge waves, and countless other incredible sequences.  The camera is mobile throughout, slowly tracking (no shaky cam here), to take it all in, reminding one of the shots in earlier Cuarón films such as Children of Men, 2006 (his previous film, Gravity, 2013, also gets a nod when the family watches a film with two astronauts drifting in space).  The plot shows us a year of the maid’s life with her employer’s family, when certain serious events occur (such as, the father abandons them).  It is hard not to think about gender, race, and class as the episodic plot unfolds, given Cleo’s second class status – she is loved and accepted (especially by the kids) but does she ever truly belong?  A beautiful (and heartfelt) work of art.