“I consider myself a lucky person, as I managed to see my favorite film of 2018 not only once, but twice, and both times it was in a theater setting, which is surprising considering the Netflix logo that opens the film. I’m not here to bludgeon you with the same points made over and over again for the past months by Alfonso Cuarón and the critics that loved Roma, but I believe there’s no turning it around; it’s a film with the big screen in mind, made for that canvas and that overwhelming capability that usually films shot in 70mm hold onto the viewer’s mind and eyes. Cuarón managed to made a film about the routine of a Mexican maid in the early 1970s that’s as visually imposing and emotionally involving as 2001: A Space Odyssey or The Master, just to name just two classics shot in 70mm.
“There’s a clear intention behind the use of the space inside the frame in Roma. Most of the time the characters are relegated to the background, so we get the time to fully explore the surroundings, trying to capture any period detail (or fault in it), expanding upon the ambience, helped through the impeccable sound design (which puts the camera as a physical entity where the ears capture sound as much as a person in that position is able to). This isn’t because the period detail or the sets are more important than what’s happening to the characters that inhabit them, but because those objects and sounds inform of the choices they end up making. It speaks of their social, racial and gender positions inside society. But it’s not an explicit dig by Cuarón to make these apparent or obvious, as he just decides to make a portrait of the normalcy of that moment.
“Of course, the camera doesn’t always shy away from doing close-ups, or shots where the characters are near the lens. It doesn’t happen often, which is essentially strange for a film that bases most of its raw force in the emotions it can produce in the viewer, but it happens enough times for it to matter and make an impact. We see Cleo (the maid) and her face, her dark eyes, looking at us or at someone or something that’s right behind the camera in essential plot moments, the times where we most need to know what’s inside of her: her smiles, her eyes brightening, the way she looks down when she can’t say something she wants. All of it speaks volumes of both her position and draws us closer to her life.
“Most of the criticism aimed at Roma is related to its supposed lack of class awareness. If anything, Roma is exactly a film about class privilege and how that is stagnated in a lifestyle that is never willing to change, not even in the face of tragedy. There are many tragedies represented in Cleo’s body, face and movements. She will be the servant: no matter what happens, no matter how many times the kids she takes care of says that they love her, no matter how many times the mother says that things will change around the house. No matter what happens, there’s a chasm between them that can never be salvaged, not even by Cuarón homself. Some people read the ending as wiping the board and showing how Cleo is now part of the family. But if you look closer you’ll see that it’s entirely sad, an admission of guilt on Cuarón’s part.
“To act like a movie where a rich man admits that he’s a piece of shit isn’t the best movie of the year is bewildering to me.” ~ Jaime Grijalba
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