LIFE’S LIKE THAT
Every movie is about experiences, but there’s never been one like this before
What would the trailer for your life look like? I ask because if you’ve seen the trailers for Alfonso Cuarón’s personal-yet-universal story Roma, you’re probably no closer to understanding what the film is about. Well, it’s about life, which pretty much describes every movie, though there’s never been a movie like this.
The plot — lives don’t have plots, but we need to talk about this somehow — centres on Cleo (Yalitza Aparicio), one of two maids for an upper-middleclass family in Mexico in the early 1970s. (Similarities to the 57-year-old writer-director’s life are intentional; the film is dedicated to Libo, the real-life Cleo.) Part of the sprawling underclass of Mexican society, Cleo speaks Spanish to her employers, and Mixtec to Adela, the other maid.
Every country in the Americas has its Indigenous peoples.
Cleo also has a boyfriend, Fermin (Jorge Antonio Guerrero), who is more interested in martial artistry than matters of the heart. In fact, the men in this movie have a way of disappearing after being hardly there in the first place. If a ghost could ghost, that would describe the behaviour of Dr. Antonio (Fernando Grediaga), who departs mid-picture, leaving his wife, Sofia (Marina de Tavira), with four children, a dog and a Ford Galaxy. She takes her frustrations out on the car. I really felt for that car.
Cleo helps with the kids; there’s a clear bond here that transcends the service contract, and when the maid runs into problems with her boyfriend, Sofia, a weekend Communist, doesn’t hesitate to pitch in and help.
Cuarón expertly weaves leitmotifs into his picture without them becoming overwhelming; the long, immersive opening shot introduces water and aircraft, both of which return throughout the film. Water in particular is an important element, the stuff we would soon die without, and in some cases die within. But its inclusion is natural, flowing from the story rather than being “cleverly” piped into it.
And if you love movies within movies, you’ll get a kick out of the occasional entertainment enjoyed by this family.
One scene in a cinema features a bonkers Franco-British Second World War comedy called La Grande Vadrouille (literally “the big mop”). Another made me realize that Cuarón’s last film, the 2013 best-picture nominee Gravity, was in fact a stellar remake of 1969’s Marooned.
It’s worth noting here that Roma deserves to be seen on a big screen if at all possible. Netflix is doing a limited theatrical release before and in some cities concurrent with its streaming release.
Shot in luminous black and white, it features many scenes that fill the screen as the camera tracks along a street or captures an intriguing balancing trick you’ll want to try at home. (Notice which character manages to do it most easily, and what that says about her.)
Similarly, Roma’s soundscape will tax even the best homeentertainment setup; I was in awe of the thunderous waves when the family visits a secluded beach, though also gripping the armrests in terror at the thought that the kids might venture more than a few feet past the shoreline.
So what’s it about? It’s about two and a quarter hours, and not a minute wasted. It’s about the quiet figure of Cleo, buffeted by the forces of history — Mexico’s student protests loom large, as do natural disasters — but ultimately the centre of her own story, as are we all. Roma is the name of the neighbourhood where it all takes place, but spell it backwards and translate it into English.
It’s about that too.