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Jan 22, 2019 (Updated Jan 22, 2019)
Roma (2018)
7.4
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A story that chronicles a year in the life of a middle-class family in Mexico City in the early...
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.
BankofMarquis (1832 KP) rated Roma (2018) in Movies
Jan 16, 2019
A lush and beautiful memory
Alfonso Cuaron - the magnificent Director from Mexico who directed such big Hollywood hits as HARRY POTTER AND THE PRISONER OF AZKABAN (the best HP flick, IMHO) and GRAVITY (one of the best films of 2013, IMHO) has made a little "personal" film that was financed and released by Netflix. Netflix, in their wisdom, realized they might have an Oscar contender on it's hands, so has released ROMA in limited release to Theaters (mostly Art Houses) and...in some instances...you can catch a 70mm print of this film. Or...you can watch it on your TV via your Netflix subscription.
I would highly recommend checking this film out at your local movie theater house and, if you are lucky enough to have a theater that is showing the 70mm print, I would tell you to run...don't walk...to check this out.
For ROMA is a beautifully filmed Black and White film, in Spanish (with English subtitles) that tells a very personal story of a family in Mexico City in the early 1970's - as seen through the eyes of their house maid. This story is based (according to what I have read) on Cuaron's own childhood and he has lovingly, beautifully recreated this world and populated it with some interesting characters/experiences.
It is also languidly paced (read: slow) and - if I am honest about it - not much happens. So if you add languid pace with black and white photography with Spanish language (and English subtitles) with not much in the way of plot or action, your attention span will be stretched and, I'm afraid, if you're home, you will be tempted to be distracted by your phone, the dog, the dishes, a magazine, etc...
And that would be a shame, for I fell in love with this film, the beauty of the cinematography and the slow pace of it all and I think you will too if you give it a chance.
Cuaron, most certainly, will be nominated for an Oscar for his writing and directing of this piece - and I am sure that this film will be nominated for Best Picture (and deservedly so), but it is in two other places that I was entranced by ROMA. I have mentioned the first - the Cinematography. This film is a shoo-in for a Best Cinematography Oscar, the black and white is lush and rich throughout the film and adds to the memory-style idealized world that Cuaron has put on screen. So, the Best Cinematography Oscar should go to...Alfonso Cuaron.
The other area that I am surprised to say worked very well for me is the performances of the cast, all Mexican actors, unknown to U.S. audiences. Standing out most notably are Marina de Tavira as the matriarch of the family, Senora Sofia and, most surprisingly, Yalitza Aparicio as the focal point of this film, Cleo. Her part is mostly mute (or at least mute for me, for I don't speak Spanish) so the emotions I felt coming from her were brought forth through her facial features, looks and reactions, much more than what she says. I would be fine with either of these two getting an Oscar nomination.
Despite a slow start - and a slow pace throughout this film - and not much going on, I was entranced and enthralled by the world that Cuaron put on screen. A world that exists, mostly, in Cuaron's memory and that, now, exists for us to see in this wonderful film.
Letter Grade: A
9 (out of 10) stars and you can take that to the Bank(ofMarquis)
I would highly recommend checking this film out at your local movie theater house and, if you are lucky enough to have a theater that is showing the 70mm print, I would tell you to run...don't walk...to check this out.
For ROMA is a beautifully filmed Black and White film, in Spanish (with English subtitles) that tells a very personal story of a family in Mexico City in the early 1970's - as seen through the eyes of their house maid. This story is based (according to what I have read) on Cuaron's own childhood and he has lovingly, beautifully recreated this world and populated it with some interesting characters/experiences.
It is also languidly paced (read: slow) and - if I am honest about it - not much happens. So if you add languid pace with black and white photography with Spanish language (and English subtitles) with not much in the way of plot or action, your attention span will be stretched and, I'm afraid, if you're home, you will be tempted to be distracted by your phone, the dog, the dishes, a magazine, etc...
And that would be a shame, for I fell in love with this film, the beauty of the cinematography and the slow pace of it all and I think you will too if you give it a chance.
Cuaron, most certainly, will be nominated for an Oscar for his writing and directing of this piece - and I am sure that this film will be nominated for Best Picture (and deservedly so), but it is in two other places that I was entranced by ROMA. I have mentioned the first - the Cinematography. This film is a shoo-in for a Best Cinematography Oscar, the black and white is lush and rich throughout the film and adds to the memory-style idealized world that Cuaron has put on screen. So, the Best Cinematography Oscar should go to...Alfonso Cuaron.
The other area that I am surprised to say worked very well for me is the performances of the cast, all Mexican actors, unknown to U.S. audiences. Standing out most notably are Marina de Tavira as the matriarch of the family, Senora Sofia and, most surprisingly, Yalitza Aparicio as the focal point of this film, Cleo. Her part is mostly mute (or at least mute for me, for I don't speak Spanish) so the emotions I felt coming from her were brought forth through her facial features, looks and reactions, much more than what she says. I would be fine with either of these two getting an Oscar nomination.
Despite a slow start - and a slow pace throughout this film - and not much going on, I was entranced and enthralled by the world that Cuaron put on screen. A world that exists, mostly, in Cuaron's memory and that, now, exists for us to see in this wonderful film.
Letter Grade: A
9 (out of 10) stars and you can take that to the Bank(ofMarquis)
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.