Roma

Alfonso Cuarón’s 2018 black-and-white, slow-paced film Roma, follows Cleo, played by Yalitza Aparicio, the live-in housekeeper of a well-off middle-class family in 1970s Mexico, for one year as she traverses love, pregnancy, a violent protest, caring for the family, and coming to terms with a tragic event.

Despite having a theatrical release, you may have noticed that this film bears the ever-familiar “Netflix Original” title on it. Usually, I am a passionate proponent of watching movies in movie theaters, but there is an interesting conversation to be had about Roma. While Alfonso Cuarón is one of my favorite directors for his employment of immensely impressive long takes that are present in all of his films, and Roma is no exception, I actually believe your viewing experience will be heightened by not seeing this film in a theater. I found myself waiting for the perfect opportunity to watch this movie and actually waited almost a month after its release to see it. I did not want to disrespect what I had already expected to be a cinematic marvel by simply watching it on my phone or laptop, but I could not get out to a theater that was playing it. I was satisfied with having watched the film with my friends on their large television: comfortable, relaxed, and fairly close to the screen. The combination of the film following one character the entire time whose job is to care for a family’s home and children, the slow pace of the movie, and the vehemently emotional events of the story, makes this film extraordinarily personal. That being said, watching this film on a phone or laptop forces you to be physically close to it, adding to the personal experience and thus heightening the intense emotions, of both comfort and discomfort, translated through the screen.

The film’s opening shot and title sequence is a shot looking down at a tile floor being mopped by Cleo, a literal cleansing. Another aspect to mention that appears at the beginning, ending, and throughout the film, is an airplane that flies by: once in the reflection of the water on the floor at the beginning, and again in the sky at the end. Later in the film and almost at the end, water plays another important role when Cleo goes into the ocean to save a couple of the children she takes care of from drowning. While the family embraces after this frightening event, Cleo vocalizes a confession about a previous heart-wrenching event (which despite the name of my column, I will not spoil for you so as to ensure that the scene remains emotional). Here, water reappears as a cleansing agent; however, it is now vast and intimidating as opposed to full of literal sh*t and on the floor like it was in the opening. The film closes with a shot of Cleo walking up a set of outdoor stairs, and the camera lingers on the sky as the closing credits appear.

There are many other things I love about this film, but I think the topics I wrote about this week were the two most captivating aspects. Like I mentioned last week, Roma is my personal pick for Best Picture, but no matter what the results are at the Oscars, I’m just happy that it is receiving plenty of attention and praise.