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Andy K (10821 KP) created a poll
Jan 22, 2019
Andy K (10821 KP) rated Roma (2018) in Movies
Jan 8, 2019
Beautiful but pointless
I guess I expect a little more from Alfonso Cuarón, director of Gravity and Children of Men, than a slightly boring film about a year in the life of a Mexican family in the 1970s. The film focuses on the lives of an upper middle class couple, their kids and their maid as they go through the events of their daily lives and have a few unexpected things happen to them.
I guess it's kind of interesting as events unfold; however, I was kind of waiting for some meaning or point of which there was none. I would say normally I am not a huge fan of the "slice of life" sort of movie as they usually are devoid of point and this one was no exception.
The beautiful black and white cinematography and long takes make the film a technical marvel, but I wish there was more substance here.
Not sure why it is getting all the hype and attention other than because of its famous director. In a year, no one will remember this film.
I guess it's kind of interesting as events unfold; however, I was kind of waiting for some meaning or point of which there was none. I would say normally I am not a huge fan of the "slice of life" sort of movie as they usually are devoid of point and this one was no exception.
The beautiful black and white cinematography and long takes make the film a technical marvel, but I wish there was more substance here.
Not sure why it is getting all the hype and attention other than because of its famous director. In a year, no one will remember this film.
Justin Patchett (42 KP) rated Roma (2018) in Movies
Mar 3, 2019
Caught in a bad Roma
Contains spoilers, click to show
It’s been a long while since I watched a film deserving of a truly, harshly negative review. I have gotten so close so many times, and I’ll be damned if Netflix hadn’t gotten close to earning that with the fridge-logic that ruined Bird Box. Even Bird Box, though, feels enjoyable in retrospect compared to another Netflix exclusive: Alfonso Cuarón’s Roma.
Since I’m in a clear minority on this film, I feel obligated to preemptively address some common criticisms. If Roma had been produced in English, presented in color and with any score, it couldn’t fix the fact that I simply dislike Roma’s genre. Sure, I’ve liked slice-of-life drama films, and modern period pieces do fine by me. Pretentious Oscar-farming arthouse flicks like this, though, never win my praise.
Roma follows Cleo, a housemaid in Mexico City. Cleo has gotten pregnant and the presumed father, Fermín, leaves her to buy cigarettes before the baby’s even born. Her employer, Sofía, is dealing with a cheating spouse. What follows is two hours of both of these women marginally helping each other with their respective situations. As slice-of-life films do.
Since it's a slice-of-life film, much of the story just basically happens. You'll remember a scene here or there that happened, even if it was ultimately insignificant. In one scene for instance, Cleo goes to confront the baby daddy, who’s at a huge martial arts class. She spectates and proves to be the only one able to perform a certain yoga pose. Which is important because it helped add another few minutes to the film.
Cleo goes into labor not long after this confrontation, but her daughter ends up being stillborn. This all happens in the midst of the Corpus Christi Massacre. What the heck was the Corpus Christi Massacre, you may ask? According to this film, it was a brutal inconvenience on Cleo’s way to the hospital after her water breaks. This actual historical event simply happens and is never addressed for one second more. You know, just like in Titanic where the shipwreck just makes things inconvenient for Rose and Jack.
The last major scene in the film comes when Sofía invites Cleo to come with her family on a trip to the beach, not as staff but to help Cleo cope with the tragedy of losing her child. While they’re there, Sofía leaves the children in Cleo’s care for two freaking minutes, and two of the kids nearly drown. Cleo, though, can’t swim, and so she stands out in the water as the kids rescue each other. And that's about as close as Roma gets to a cohesive plot. Cleo only came with them to help her grieving, which meant she could be there to be powerless while her employer’s kids save each other’s lives. Bad things happen to us, the film teaches, so that good things can coincidentally happen in our proximity.
In fact, coincidence seems to be the running theme, here. Remember the Corpus Christi Massacre? No? What if I call it “the scene where Cleo goes into labor”? Maybe that helps? Fermín briefly held Cleo at gunpoint in the middle of it. Again, mere coincidence. Just like it’s a mere coincidence that she goes into labor the same day as a massacre that killed 120 people. As coincidences do.
Roma isn’t an aggressively bad film. There are a rare few moments within Roma’s 2-hour runtime where you think, “I can see that clip showing up during a Facebook video binge,” but again: These are moments more rare than our current president ordering a rare steak. That rarity has everything to do with the fact that the movie has so few moments, at all. The rest is shots that linger too long from angles that repeat themselves all too often. It’s like Cuarón asked someone, “What does a movie like Juno need to be better?” They responded, “Nothing.” So Cuarón packed Roma with nothing.
Which brings up one of my biggest criticisms of Roma: The cinematography is bland. Cuarón shot practically the entire film on one camera, set a specific distance from the subject, and kept takes running as longer than they should have, padding out a short-film’s worth of content to feature length. It’s bland cinematography that somehow earned an Oscar for Best Cinematography.
Gravity showed us what Cuarón was capable of. Beyond bringing a seemingly authentic view of space to the big screen, Gravity offered variety. Yes, the huge collision scene in Gravity takes on the feel of a one-take scene, but even then, the camera moves with the action. And if your attention moves away from the foreground the shot, you’re able to see other important things going on. With Roma, though, your foreground is your film. Period. And to be sure, you'll be kept at arm's length from that foreground at all times, both metaphorically and cinematically.
There's a number of reasons why Roma wasn't the Best Picture, this year. Gravity proved that Roma is not Cuarón’s best film. Bo Burnham–yes, that Bo Burnham–wrote and directed a better slice-of-life film with Eighth Grade. And Roma might not even be the past year’s best black-and-white film; I dare suggest that Cold War may have been better.
To give it the credit it’s due, Roma’s cast rightly earned nominations for their performances. Yalitza Aparicio and Marina de Tavira earned Best Actress nominations for their roles, and for their part, their performances were authentic as can be. It's the least the Academy could do for having them endure Cuarón's lengthy takes.
But now that I've given it credit, I demand my time back for the scene of Fermín going Star Wars Kid meets Full Monty.
Since I’m in a clear minority on this film, I feel obligated to preemptively address some common criticisms. If Roma had been produced in English, presented in color and with any score, it couldn’t fix the fact that I simply dislike Roma’s genre. Sure, I’ve liked slice-of-life drama films, and modern period pieces do fine by me. Pretentious Oscar-farming arthouse flicks like this, though, never win my praise.
Roma follows Cleo, a housemaid in Mexico City. Cleo has gotten pregnant and the presumed father, Fermín, leaves her to buy cigarettes before the baby’s even born. Her employer, Sofía, is dealing with a cheating spouse. What follows is two hours of both of these women marginally helping each other with their respective situations. As slice-of-life films do.
Since it's a slice-of-life film, much of the story just basically happens. You'll remember a scene here or there that happened, even if it was ultimately insignificant. In one scene for instance, Cleo goes to confront the baby daddy, who’s at a huge martial arts class. She spectates and proves to be the only one able to perform a certain yoga pose. Which is important because it helped add another few minutes to the film.
Cleo goes into labor not long after this confrontation, but her daughter ends up being stillborn. This all happens in the midst of the Corpus Christi Massacre. What the heck was the Corpus Christi Massacre, you may ask? According to this film, it was a brutal inconvenience on Cleo’s way to the hospital after her water breaks. This actual historical event simply happens and is never addressed for one second more. You know, just like in Titanic where the shipwreck just makes things inconvenient for Rose and Jack.
The last major scene in the film comes when Sofía invites Cleo to come with her family on a trip to the beach, not as staff but to help Cleo cope with the tragedy of losing her child. While they’re there, Sofía leaves the children in Cleo’s care for two freaking minutes, and two of the kids nearly drown. Cleo, though, can’t swim, and so she stands out in the water as the kids rescue each other. And that's about as close as Roma gets to a cohesive plot. Cleo only came with them to help her grieving, which meant she could be there to be powerless while her employer’s kids save each other’s lives. Bad things happen to us, the film teaches, so that good things can coincidentally happen in our proximity.
In fact, coincidence seems to be the running theme, here. Remember the Corpus Christi Massacre? No? What if I call it “the scene where Cleo goes into labor”? Maybe that helps? Fermín briefly held Cleo at gunpoint in the middle of it. Again, mere coincidence. Just like it’s a mere coincidence that she goes into labor the same day as a massacre that killed 120 people. As coincidences do.
Roma isn’t an aggressively bad film. There are a rare few moments within Roma’s 2-hour runtime where you think, “I can see that clip showing up during a Facebook video binge,” but again: These are moments more rare than our current president ordering a rare steak. That rarity has everything to do with the fact that the movie has so few moments, at all. The rest is shots that linger too long from angles that repeat themselves all too often. It’s like Cuarón asked someone, “What does a movie like Juno need to be better?” They responded, “Nothing.” So Cuarón packed Roma with nothing.
Which brings up one of my biggest criticisms of Roma: The cinematography is bland. Cuarón shot practically the entire film on one camera, set a specific distance from the subject, and kept takes running as longer than they should have, padding out a short-film’s worth of content to feature length. It’s bland cinematography that somehow earned an Oscar for Best Cinematography.
Gravity showed us what Cuarón was capable of. Beyond bringing a seemingly authentic view of space to the big screen, Gravity offered variety. Yes, the huge collision scene in Gravity takes on the feel of a one-take scene, but even then, the camera moves with the action. And if your attention moves away from the foreground the shot, you’re able to see other important things going on. With Roma, though, your foreground is your film. Period. And to be sure, you'll be kept at arm's length from that foreground at all times, both metaphorically and cinematically.
There's a number of reasons why Roma wasn't the Best Picture, this year. Gravity proved that Roma is not Cuarón’s best film. Bo Burnham–yes, that Bo Burnham–wrote and directed a better slice-of-life film with Eighth Grade. And Roma might not even be the past year’s best black-and-white film; I dare suggest that Cold War may have been better.
To give it the credit it’s due, Roma’s cast rightly earned nominations for their performances. Yalitza Aparicio and Marina de Tavira earned Best Actress nominations for their roles, and for their part, their performances were authentic as can be. It's the least the Academy could do for having them endure Cuarón's lengthy takes.
But now that I've given it credit, I demand my time back for the scene of Fermín going Star Wars Kid meets Full Monty.
Bob Mann (459 KP) rated Roma (2018) in Movies
Sep 28, 2021
“Siempre estamos solas”
Alfonso Cuarón‘s “Roma” has been lauded with praise and award’s hype, and I must admit to have been a little bit snooty about it. A black-and-white Spanish language film with subtitles that – to be honest – looks a bit dreary: can it really be that good? Having now (finally) seen it on Netflix I can confirm that’s a big YES from my point of view. It’s a novelty of a glacially slow film that grips like a vice.
A primer on 70’s Mexican History.
This is a film about ordinary life set against tumultuous times. Set in the Colonia Roma district of Mexico City (if you were puzzled, as I was, where the title came from) it is an “Upstairs, Downstairs” tale of Cleo (Yalitza Aparicio), a maid and nanny to a middle class family in the early 70’s.
There are two intertwined stories here: Cleo’s personal story and that of the family background in which she works.
Cleo has a pleasant enough life working as partners in crime in the household with Adela (Nancy García García). Life is about getting the work done (well, more of less), keeping the four children happy – to who she is devoted – and scraping enough by to spend her downtime with her martial arts boyfriend Ramón (José Manuel Guerrero Mendoza).
Meanwhile the lady of the house Senora Sofia (Marina de Tavira) has an affluent and cosseted lifestyle amid her loving family.
But times are about to change for all of the players, as events – not just the events of the ‘Mexican Dirty War’ of 1971 going on in the background – transpire to change all their lives forever.
A masterclass in framing.
It’s criminal that I wasn’t able to get to see this in the cinema. Since every frame of this movie is a masterpiece of detail. There is just so much going on that your eyes dart this way and that, and you could probably watch it five times and see more. Even the opening titles are mesmerising, as the cobbled floor becomes a screen and an airliner lazily flies across it.
Even major action sequences, that other directors would fill the screen with (“Do you KNOW how much this scene is costing for God’s sake??”), are seen as they would typically be seen in real life – second hand, from a place of hiding. This is typified by the depiction of the Corpus Christi Massacre of June ’71, where the military, and more controversially the elite El Halconazo (The Hawks) of the Mexican army, turned on a student protest. Most of the action is seen as glimpses through the windows by the characters during a shopping trip to the second floor of a department store. How this was enacted and directed is a mystery to me, but it works just brilliantly.
A masterclass in pacing and panning.
One of Cuarón’s trademarks is the long take (think “Children of Men”) and here he (literally!) goes to town with the technique. An incredibly impressive scene has Cleo and Adela running through the streets of the City to meet their lovers at the cinema. It’s a continuous pan that again defies belief in the brilliance of its execution.
Even the mundane act of Cleo tidying up the apartment is done with a glorious slow pan around the room. Some of this panning is done to set the mood for the film (“Get settled in… this is going to be a long haul”) but others manage to evoke a sense of rising dread, an example at the beach being a brilliant case in point.
The cinematography was supposed to have been done by the great Emmanuel Lubezki, but he was unavailable so Cuarón did it himself! And it’s quite brilliant. So, that’s a lesson learned then that will reduce the budget for next time!
A personal story.
Cuarón wrote the script. Of course he did… it’s his story! He’s the same age as I am, so was nine years old for the autobiographical events featured in the film (he is the kid who gets punished for eavesdropping). Numerous aspects of the film are from his own childhood, including the fact that his younger brother kept spookily coming out with things that he’d done in his past lives! It’s a painful true story of his upbringing and of the life of Liboria Rodríguez: “Libo” to whom the film is dedicated.
Where the script is delightful is in never destroying the mood with lengthy exposition. Both of the key stories evolve slowly and only gradually do you work out what’s really going on. This is grown-up cinema at its finest.
It’s also a love letter from Cuarón to the cinema of his youth, a passion that sparked his eventual career. We see a number of trips to the local fleapit, and in one cute scene we seen a clip from the Gregory Peck space epic “Marooned”: the film that inspired Cuarón’s own masterpiece “Gravity“.
A naturalistic cast.
Casting a large proportion of the cast from unknowns feels like a great risk, but its a risk that pays off handsomely, particularly in the case of Yalitza Aparicio, who is breathtakingly naturalistic. Cuarón withheld the script from his cast, so some of the “acting” is not acting at all – specifically a gruelling and heartrending scene featuring Cleo later in the film. That’s real and raw emotion on the screen.
Marina de Tavira, although an actress with a track record, is also mightily impressive as the beleaguered and troubled wife.
Final Thoughts.
This is a masterpiece, and thoroughly deserves the “Best Picture” awards it has been getting. It’s certainly my odds on favourite, as well as being my pick, for the Oscar on Sunday. Will it be for everyone? Probably not.
There are some scenes which feel slightly ostentatious. A forest fire scene is brilliantly done (“Put out the small fires kids”), but then a guy in a monster suit pulls off his head-wear and starts singing a long and mournful song. Sorry?
There will also be many I suspect who will find the leisurely pace of the film excruciating; “JUST GET ON WITH IT” I hear them yelling at the screen. But if you give it the time and let it soak in, then you WILL be moved and you WILL remember the film long after you’ve seen it.
I remain cross however that this was released through Netflix. This is a film that deserves a full and widespread cinema release in 70mm format. It’s like taking an iPhone snap of the Mona Lisa and putting the phone on display instead.
A primer on 70’s Mexican History.
This is a film about ordinary life set against tumultuous times. Set in the Colonia Roma district of Mexico City (if you were puzzled, as I was, where the title came from) it is an “Upstairs, Downstairs” tale of Cleo (Yalitza Aparicio), a maid and nanny to a middle class family in the early 70’s.
There are two intertwined stories here: Cleo’s personal story and that of the family background in which she works.
Cleo has a pleasant enough life working as partners in crime in the household with Adela (Nancy García García). Life is about getting the work done (well, more of less), keeping the four children happy – to who she is devoted – and scraping enough by to spend her downtime with her martial arts boyfriend Ramón (José Manuel Guerrero Mendoza).
Meanwhile the lady of the house Senora Sofia (Marina de Tavira) has an affluent and cosseted lifestyle amid her loving family.
But times are about to change for all of the players, as events – not just the events of the ‘Mexican Dirty War’ of 1971 going on in the background – transpire to change all their lives forever.
A masterclass in framing.
It’s criminal that I wasn’t able to get to see this in the cinema. Since every frame of this movie is a masterpiece of detail. There is just so much going on that your eyes dart this way and that, and you could probably watch it five times and see more. Even the opening titles are mesmerising, as the cobbled floor becomes a screen and an airliner lazily flies across it.
Even major action sequences, that other directors would fill the screen with (“Do you KNOW how much this scene is costing for God’s sake??”), are seen as they would typically be seen in real life – second hand, from a place of hiding. This is typified by the depiction of the Corpus Christi Massacre of June ’71, where the military, and more controversially the elite El Halconazo (The Hawks) of the Mexican army, turned on a student protest. Most of the action is seen as glimpses through the windows by the characters during a shopping trip to the second floor of a department store. How this was enacted and directed is a mystery to me, but it works just brilliantly.
A masterclass in pacing and panning.
One of Cuarón’s trademarks is the long take (think “Children of Men”) and here he (literally!) goes to town with the technique. An incredibly impressive scene has Cleo and Adela running through the streets of the City to meet their lovers at the cinema. It’s a continuous pan that again defies belief in the brilliance of its execution.
Even the mundane act of Cleo tidying up the apartment is done with a glorious slow pan around the room. Some of this panning is done to set the mood for the film (“Get settled in… this is going to be a long haul”) but others manage to evoke a sense of rising dread, an example at the beach being a brilliant case in point.
The cinematography was supposed to have been done by the great Emmanuel Lubezki, but he was unavailable so Cuarón did it himself! And it’s quite brilliant. So, that’s a lesson learned then that will reduce the budget for next time!
A personal story.
Cuarón wrote the script. Of course he did… it’s his story! He’s the same age as I am, so was nine years old for the autobiographical events featured in the film (he is the kid who gets punished for eavesdropping). Numerous aspects of the film are from his own childhood, including the fact that his younger brother kept spookily coming out with things that he’d done in his past lives! It’s a painful true story of his upbringing and of the life of Liboria Rodríguez: “Libo” to whom the film is dedicated.
Where the script is delightful is in never destroying the mood with lengthy exposition. Both of the key stories evolve slowly and only gradually do you work out what’s really going on. This is grown-up cinema at its finest.
It’s also a love letter from Cuarón to the cinema of his youth, a passion that sparked his eventual career. We see a number of trips to the local fleapit, and in one cute scene we seen a clip from the Gregory Peck space epic “Marooned”: the film that inspired Cuarón’s own masterpiece “Gravity“.
A naturalistic cast.
Casting a large proportion of the cast from unknowns feels like a great risk, but its a risk that pays off handsomely, particularly in the case of Yalitza Aparicio, who is breathtakingly naturalistic. Cuarón withheld the script from his cast, so some of the “acting” is not acting at all – specifically a gruelling and heartrending scene featuring Cleo later in the film. That’s real and raw emotion on the screen.
Marina de Tavira, although an actress with a track record, is also mightily impressive as the beleaguered and troubled wife.
Final Thoughts.
This is a masterpiece, and thoroughly deserves the “Best Picture” awards it has been getting. It’s certainly my odds on favourite, as well as being my pick, for the Oscar on Sunday. Will it be for everyone? Probably not.
There are some scenes which feel slightly ostentatious. A forest fire scene is brilliantly done (“Put out the small fires kids”), but then a guy in a monster suit pulls off his head-wear and starts singing a long and mournful song. Sorry?
There will also be many I suspect who will find the leisurely pace of the film excruciating; “JUST GET ON WITH IT” I hear them yelling at the screen. But if you give it the time and let it soak in, then you WILL be moved and you WILL remember the film long after you’ve seen it.
I remain cross however that this was released through Netflix. This is a film that deserves a full and widespread cinema release in 70mm format. It’s like taking an iPhone snap of the Mona Lisa and putting the phone on display instead.
Kirk Bage (1775 KP) rated Roma (2018) in Movies
Mar 2, 2020 (Updated Mar 3, 2020)
I watched Roma exactly a week ago today. And although I knew 20 minutes in that I loved it, and at the end that I really loved it, I have taken that time to let it settle within me in before coming to write about it. Some films are so good that you have to do that: let it sink into you fully, before doing anything so trivial as judging and comparing them. Roma is incomparable! I have never seen anything like it, or felt as deeply moved by a film in a long time.
Not that it didn’t get attention at the time of its release, it did, receiving 10 Oscar nominations and winning 3, for best foreign language film, director and cinematography, but it certainly wasn’t seen by as many people as it should have been, despite its presence on Netflix from the start. Having digested it now, and spending some time reading about how and why it was made, I feel a slight mission to recommend it to as many people as I can.
Based on Alfonso Cuarón’s own childhood in Mexico City, and his memories of his family and especially their housemaid, Liboria (Libo) Rodriguez, to whom the film is dedicated, it is a masterpiece labour of love that few directors ever achieve or even attempt to make. After a strong career of exceptional films, including Y Tu Mamá También, Children of Men and Gravity, it was the box office and critical success of the latter that gave Cuarón carte blanche to go and make whatever project he chose. Where many might have been tempted by the big money of superhero or fantasy movies (for which he had some experience with Harry Potter and the Prisoner of Azkaban) he went back to his roots and shot a very personal non-English film, in black and white, where no music exists except that which occurs naturally, and on the surface not much happens.
At least it feels like not much is happening, such is the naturalistic, almost improvised (although it wasn’t) style and pace; shot with a lens capturing detail and nuance with some of the most beautiful photography I have ever had the privilege to see. Truly, an awful lot is happening, but you have to feel and experience it, not simply be told it by the narrative. It takes a while for our Hollywood conditioned brains to accept this at first, and many might come to it and give up half an hour in because of that challenge. I can promise, however, there is not a single thing boring about this film, unless humanity is boring.
Oscar nominated lead Yalitza Aparicio as the shy, loving maid, Cleo, was not an actor before this film. She auditioned and was hand picked by Cuarón from hundreds of young women, without knowing who he was or what the film was about. Apparently, the film was shot in sequence so as not to confuse her emotionally on her extraordinary journey. She is so unassuming and natural that part of you falls in love with her immediately. In time, we almost come to forget we are watching an act at all, and almost become her, such is the empathy she evokes.
Which isn’t an easy ride, as we watch her be gently and then cruelly ignored, mistreated and used; climaxing in one of the most astonishingly painful and jaw-dropping scenes imaginable, and then a scene of such powerful redemption and humanity it instantly breaks the heart and lifts the soul. All the while she never asks for attention or love, but is just herself: a young woman living a difficult but beautiful life in a country and time full of turmoil, prejudice and social change.
The recreation of Mexico in 1970 is so breathtaking, it is hard to imagine at times we are not watching a documentary from that era. But, it is the detail the lens chooses to capture that reminds you this is a visual poem and a love-letter to a time, a place and a family far away in history and the memory of one man (represented by ten year old Carlos Peralta as Paco). At times it evokes the work of the very greatest film artists of all time: Bergman, Fellini, Hitchcock etc. Not one image is wasted or insignificant, from the reflection of the sky in water, to the dog-shit constantly lining the driveway. Everything is chosen and meaningful in the full context of the work.
There is no awkward exposition, no dramatic moments milked for all they are worth, no sequences of heightened excitement that manipulate us; simply truthful moments that hang in the air for what they are, leaving us to decide how we relate to them without ever preaching or teaching us how. In that way, it is a work of such maturity that I doubt many living directors could emulate it at all. The closest comparison I can think of is the personal passion Spielberg put into Shindler’s List, but really it is a moot comparison, and in fact owes much more to films like Haneke’s The White Ribbon.
Can it be faulted? Well, yes, certainly. But, honestly, I don’t see the point in trying. It is as close to perfection a small story of this kind can be. Importantly, I think it is an open film, that allows us to take from it whatever we like, relating to our own experiences and cares. For me, it said that any pain and hardship can be overcome, as long as there is love and beauty walking by its side. A message of no small importance. If you haven’t seen it, I urge you to do so. If you have, then please keep spreading the word. I believe it to be a genuine classic that will endure the criticism of many decades to come. Without a doubt in my mind something very special indeed.
Not that it didn’t get attention at the time of its release, it did, receiving 10 Oscar nominations and winning 3, for best foreign language film, director and cinematography, but it certainly wasn’t seen by as many people as it should have been, despite its presence on Netflix from the start. Having digested it now, and spending some time reading about how and why it was made, I feel a slight mission to recommend it to as many people as I can.
Based on Alfonso Cuarón’s own childhood in Mexico City, and his memories of his family and especially their housemaid, Liboria (Libo) Rodriguez, to whom the film is dedicated, it is a masterpiece labour of love that few directors ever achieve or even attempt to make. After a strong career of exceptional films, including Y Tu Mamá También, Children of Men and Gravity, it was the box office and critical success of the latter that gave Cuarón carte blanche to go and make whatever project he chose. Where many might have been tempted by the big money of superhero or fantasy movies (for which he had some experience with Harry Potter and the Prisoner of Azkaban) he went back to his roots and shot a very personal non-English film, in black and white, where no music exists except that which occurs naturally, and on the surface not much happens.
At least it feels like not much is happening, such is the naturalistic, almost improvised (although it wasn’t) style and pace; shot with a lens capturing detail and nuance with some of the most beautiful photography I have ever had the privilege to see. Truly, an awful lot is happening, but you have to feel and experience it, not simply be told it by the narrative. It takes a while for our Hollywood conditioned brains to accept this at first, and many might come to it and give up half an hour in because of that challenge. I can promise, however, there is not a single thing boring about this film, unless humanity is boring.
Oscar nominated lead Yalitza Aparicio as the shy, loving maid, Cleo, was not an actor before this film. She auditioned and was hand picked by Cuarón from hundreds of young women, without knowing who he was or what the film was about. Apparently, the film was shot in sequence so as not to confuse her emotionally on her extraordinary journey. She is so unassuming and natural that part of you falls in love with her immediately. In time, we almost come to forget we are watching an act at all, and almost become her, such is the empathy she evokes.
Which isn’t an easy ride, as we watch her be gently and then cruelly ignored, mistreated and used; climaxing in one of the most astonishingly painful and jaw-dropping scenes imaginable, and then a scene of such powerful redemption and humanity it instantly breaks the heart and lifts the soul. All the while she never asks for attention or love, but is just herself: a young woman living a difficult but beautiful life in a country and time full of turmoil, prejudice and social change.
The recreation of Mexico in 1970 is so breathtaking, it is hard to imagine at times we are not watching a documentary from that era. But, it is the detail the lens chooses to capture that reminds you this is a visual poem and a love-letter to a time, a place and a family far away in history and the memory of one man (represented by ten year old Carlos Peralta as Paco). At times it evokes the work of the very greatest film artists of all time: Bergman, Fellini, Hitchcock etc. Not one image is wasted or insignificant, from the reflection of the sky in water, to the dog-shit constantly lining the driveway. Everything is chosen and meaningful in the full context of the work.
There is no awkward exposition, no dramatic moments milked for all they are worth, no sequences of heightened excitement that manipulate us; simply truthful moments that hang in the air for what they are, leaving us to decide how we relate to them without ever preaching or teaching us how. In that way, it is a work of such maturity that I doubt many living directors could emulate it at all. The closest comparison I can think of is the personal passion Spielberg put into Shindler’s List, but really it is a moot comparison, and in fact owes much more to films like Haneke’s The White Ribbon.
Can it be faulted? Well, yes, certainly. But, honestly, I don’t see the point in trying. It is as close to perfection a small story of this kind can be. Importantly, I think it is an open film, that allows us to take from it whatever we like, relating to our own experiences and cares. For me, it said that any pain and hardship can be overcome, as long as there is love and beauty walking by its side. A message of no small importance. If you haven’t seen it, I urge you to do so. If you have, then please keep spreading the word. I believe it to be a genuine classic that will endure the criticism of many decades to come. Without a doubt in my mind something very special indeed.
