Roma

A lot of beautiful pieces have been written about Roma and that is because it is a truly beautiful film. Beautiful in its humanity, its technical expertise, and its original vision. So, I won’t write too much about it here - because others have said it better elsewhere. Even Manohla Dargis loves it! But I will say it is a damn shame that it is a Netflix movie. As such, it barely got a domestic theatrical run, and in many countries there will be no theatrical run. Yet, this is a film that absolutely must be seen on a large screen. That sentiment doesn’t come from a place of snobbery, I swear. There are plenty of action films I am happy to watch on an airplane seat screen. But with Roma, it’s in the DNA of the experience. Whether Cuaron places you in a tight corner of the main character’s shared servant’s quarters, or you’re watching a massive tableau of chaos and violence erupt (one that took weeks of rehearsing on a football field, I’ve since learned)… practically every frame is planned in such a way that you need to take the time to absorb every detail in every corner. It just can’t be done on a screen at home. Cuaron revels in, and plays with, the staged framing styles of European classic cinema. As a result, the frames are long and meticulously set-up. It’s less about tracking quick movement and quick cuts, in the Hollywood style. And all this style is more than style, it’s essential to the rhythm of the film and the rise and fall (and rise again) of our protagonist, Cleo, played by Yalitza Aparicio. You experience intimacy with her as well as the terrifying sublime - being a small invisible piece of a monumental sweep of history. And as far as I can tell that effect will only be felt on the big screen.