“Roma” is a Netflix film. There’s no mistaking that. There’s the Netflix logo -- that familiar red "N" -- right at the beginning.
But, boy, it sure doesn’t feel like a Netflix film. In fact, it feels like an anti-Netflix film -- the kind of movie that shouldn't be streamed on one's phone or iPad, or even through their home theater system. If you consider yourself a lover of cinema, you should consider this a film that must be experienced in theaters.
That is: away from distractions. Away from the fast-forward button. Away from your everyday life.
Failure to do that runs the risk of losing the magic of director Alfonso Cuarón's stunningly beautiful black-and-white meditation on class, culture and his own upbringing in Mexico City of the 1970s.
That being said, I can imagine how many impatient Netflix viewers will grab the remote and fast-forward through the film's opening-credits sequence, which features a single, static shot of a floor being scrubbed. They will be making a terrible mistake.
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That initial shot -- set against the sound of scrubbing and barking dogs, and which ends with the reflection of an airliner flying free overhead (a recurring motif in "Roma") -- lasts nearly five full minutes. But it sets the perfect tone for Cuarón's film, forcing his audience to take a few deep breaths, to slow their heart rate, to settle in for a deliberately paced story that makes an effort to put distance between what's playing out on the screen and what's playing out on the street outside the theater.
Suffice it to say, this in no way resembles “Gravity,” the 2013 sci-fi thriller that earned seven Academy Awards, including a best director trophy, for Cuarón (although “Roma” does offer a cool nod to “Gravity” in a scene set inside a Mexico City movie theater).
In fact, it's not a whole lot like any previous film from Cuarón, who -- aside from telling stories steeped in emotional resonance -- hasn't demonstrated much of an interest in repeating himself. See: "Children of Men," "Y Tu Mamá También" and "Harry Potter and the Prisoner of Azkaban."
Rather, "Roma" is its own sublime thing, a textbook example of Roger Ebert's description of cinema as an "empathy machine," opening a window onto a world and a human experience most of us would never otherwise have had a way of knowing even existed.
In this case, that world is the home of a financially comfortable Mexican family -- mother, father, four children -- that is, alas, in the middle of falling apart. From the start, though, it's clear that the story's central pivot is Cleo, the family's indigenous housekeeper who is sweet and young and hard-working but who also knows well her place in the household.
She is there to clean the floors and do the laundry. She is there to sweep up the dog poop and help prepare dinner. She is also there to stroke the kids' foreheads when they need stroking and to gently, sweetly coax them awake in the morning.
Then, Cleo learns she is pregnant, threatening to upend her otherwise well-ordered -- and strictly defined -- life.
The story that follows doesn't so much consist of a straight-arrow narrative as it does a series of character-defining -- and character-altering -- vignettes. But at every step along the way, it drips with authenticity, both in the details Cuarón clearly plucked from his childhood in Mexico City's Roma neighborhood and in the film's general sense of pathos.
That shouldn't come as a surprise. There was, indeed, a real Cleo in Cuaron's early life. He consulted her to help bring "Roma" to the screen.
What we end up with is a film -- shot beautifully on 65mm black-and-white film -- that feels as much like a living photo album from Cuarón’s youth as it does a love letter to the strong women in his life. (Almost to a one, the men in “Roma” are either scoundrels or inconsequential. The women, on the other hand, are without question the central animators, both of life and of the story.)
In the process, we get what is easily the most personal and intimate film of Cuarón's career to date.
His "Roma" is a movie with a clear and distinct setting but one that boasts universal appeal. It's also built around a relatively small, narrowly focused story -- but one that deserves to be seen on as big a screen as possible.
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ROMA, 5 stars, out of 5
Snapshot: Alfonso Cuarón directs a deeply personal drama, inspired loosely by his upbringing in 1970s Mexico City and following the experiences of a young housekeeper working for a comfortable middle-class family.
What works: Shot beautifully on 65mm black-and-white film and steeped in emotional resonance, it drips with authenticity, opening a window on a distinct time and place -- and existence -- most people wouldn't otherwise have the privilege of experiencing.
What doesn’t: Moving along at its own, deliberate pace, it is not a film for impatient viewers.
Cast: Yalitza Aparicio, Marina de Tavira, Diego Cortina Autrey, Carlos Peralta, Marco Graf, Danilea Demesa, Nancy García García. Director: Curarón. Rating: R, for graphic nudity, some disturbing images, and language. Running time: 2 hours 15 minutes. When and where: Opens Friday (Dec. 14) at the Broad Theater and on Netflix.
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