Roma and the Phantasms of Memory

Sometimes the most haunting of ghosts are our own memories.

 

Alfonso Cuarón is one of our most transcendent filmmakers, having made films as diverse as Y Tu Mamá También, Harry Potter and the Prisoner of Azkaban, Children of Men, and Gravity, for which he won the best director Oscar. 

 

With Roma, Cuarón has made his most personal film yet, a nostalgic recreation of his childhood in a middle class Mexico City family in the Roma neighborhood of the early 1970s. It’s a singular vision, and Cuarón wears many hats, including writer, editor and cinematographer. The central character is Cleo (Yalitza Aparicio), the family’s housekeeper, who in addition to managing the chores, also serves as the emotional anchor for the children. Cuarón shoots in a documentarian black and white, foregoing any rapid, hand-held movement in favor of long, voyeuristic pans.

 

The film is more naturalistic in its rhythms, taking its time. There’s a hazy, washed-out quality to the aging buildings and neighborhoods. We spend time getting to know Cleo, as well as the family – and with the father’s increasing absence, we begin to see this is a family that’s starting to lose its moorings.

 

Cuarón has immersed himself in his childhood remembrances, casting the film with unknowns and non-actors, encouraging improvisation, sometimes giving contradictory direction to help capture the chaotic nature of the times – and while there’s upheaval in the family, there’s upheaval in the streets as well – and growing turmoil for Cleo, who clearly served as a veritable savior for this family. 

 

I respect the hell out of what Cuarón achieved here. There’s a lot of Fellini lurking in the shadows, and his excitement to revisit these environments and people feels palpable behind the camera. But I have to confide, this was an incredibly difficult film for me, one that gut-punched me hard. There’s a scene with Cleo that I wasn’t expecting and that is filmed with such drawn-out, unflinching immediacy that it unearthed my own traumas and brought back things I was not looking to deal with or stare right in the face – not that closely. It wasn’t cathartic, it was invasive and felt close to being abusive. The same way I’d urge caution seeing A Star Is Born for anyone who’s coping with the trauma of addiction, there are moments in Roma that may be extremely upsetting for parents, or those who’ve struggled to become parents. Beyond that, I found the overall melancholy of witnessing these children face their family’s collapse just too hard to take.

 

Produced for Netflix, Roma is also getting a theatrical release, giving the streaming entity their first-ever best picture Oscar nomination.

I definitely recommend it, but depending on your past experiences, your mileage may vary – so drive carefully. Roma is a challenging movie that’s not for everyone, and it can often be hard to take. But then so is life.