Nominations:
Best Picture
Best Actress (Yalitza Aparicio)
Best Supporting Actress (Marina de Tavira)
Best Director
Best Foreign Language Film
Best Original Screenplay
Best Cinematography
Best Sound Mixing
Best Production Design
Best Sound Editing
Alfonso Cuarón’s slow-paced Mexican drama Roma is one of the most unusual Best Picture contenders we have seen in years. Filmed entirely in black-and-white, with a nomination in the Best Foreign Language Film category, and as the first Netflix movie to ever be nominated for Best Picture, it seems pretty out of place in an awards season that is leaning into movies that have mainstream success. But like Bohemian Rhapsody, it has rapidly gathered a huge following of fans who absolutely adore its premise, visual imagery, and stunning cinematography.
Based primarily on Cuarón’s own childhood housekeeper, Roma follows the journey of Cleo as she falls pregnant to a man who quickly abandons her, her search for love in all its forms, and her attempts to keep her life together in the process. Cuarón’s reputation precedes him as a master of mise-en-scène, and in Roma we see so many variations of the same techniques that the slowness of the plot is barely noticeable.
His employment of long, single takes allow us to watch each scene unfold in real-time, so that each mundane household chore, genuine human connection, or moment of trepidation is fully felt, and not just observed as an outsider. The choice to linger on each image lets us examine their composition as if they were paintings, which in turn forces Cuarón to carefully consider the framing of each shot, the physical use of space, and what is best left unseen.
The climax of Roma comes when Cleo finally gives birth. As she lies on the hospital bed in the foreground, the background is occupied by her newborn baby as it is attended to by nurses and doctors, just slightly out-of-focus. As the scene goes on we soon come to the gut-wrenching realisation that her child was stillborn. It is almost excruciating that this shot lingers for so long and makes us watch Cleo left alone to suffer while everyone else ignores her, but it lets us experience each stage of her grief setting in. Through some smart camerawork and a bold resistance to cut away, the audience is able to develop a deep empathy for this character who otherwise has difficulty expressing herself.
For a long time the family she works for seem to be the closest thing she will get to having a family of her own, and while they go out of their way to make her feel included she is constantly reminded that she is nothing more than a paid servant. There is little connection elsewhere in her life as well – her baby’s father wants nothing to do with her, and her best friend is more preoccupied with her own boyfriend.
Over time the baby comes to represent a figure that Cleo can finally belong to. Yet when it becomes apparent how she is projecting her own desire for affection onto the child without feeling any real love for it, she is wracked with guilt for feeling that she would much rather keep the connection she currently has with the family over her own kin.
This entire story is set against a backdrop of 70’s Mexico where disasters and civil unrest were common. The earthquakes, wildfires, and riots all echo the smaller tragedies that occur in Cleo’s life, and remind us of a world beyond her own where none of her problems really matter. But for as long as we stick with Cleo her issues really do matter, if not to anyone else then at least to us.
Roma currently holds ten nominations at this year’s Oscars, the most of any film along with The Favourite, and it is absolutely deserving of all of them. It is currently at the top of a lot of people’s list to take out Best Picture, although the Academy’s longstanding prejudice against Netflix and their current inclinations toward crowd-pleasing movies may threaten its chances. But even if it doesn’t win, I have no doubt that Roma will stand the test of time and be remembered as one of the greatest films of 2018.
