We’ve had a Spring and Summer of few new film releases and re-runs on TV so, perhaps like you, my screen time has been largely filled with catching up on films I’d always meant to see but never quite round to. Roma is one of those, and I’m really, really glad that I did put it on.
Made in 2018, Roma is a beautiful, black-and-white film set in Mexico. The restrained aesthetic and the film’s simple focus, following the life of a maid to a middle-class family over 12 months in 1970-1, still allows for real charm and an overwhelming emotional impact. And, in many ways, the film speaks into our current conversations about race and privilege with a distinct voice. So, don’t let the subtitles and the lack of colour put you off. Roma may be an artistic film, but it isn’t an inaccessible ‘arty’ one. It tells a compelling, even epic, story.
Quiet detail
Roma is in parts autobiographical: filmmaker Alfonso Cuaron grew up in the well-to-do Roma district of Mexico City and the film is dedicated to his childhood maid, Libo. Perhaps that explains some of the precision in the beautifully-framed tableaux which establish characters. We see the maid Cleo on the rooftop where she does the family’s laundry; water being swilled over the yard; the high gate which separates the secluded home from the busy street; children fighting over toys. It is a quiet film too, leaving space to hear caged birds sing, marching bands, horns honking and the family dog barking excitedly. Against this background we see Cleo and her mistress Sofia go through devastating loss.
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