Roma is a film of ironies, antipodes and contradictions, a finely crafted paradox given form. It is a movie of scales both personal and epic, a tale crafted from director Alfonso Cuaron's own personal experiences as well as a chronicle of 1970's Mexico, which was, at the time, a country under significant tumult. It is a testament to the power of empathy, as it is told through the perspective of Cleo (Yaritza Aparicio), the maid serving the middle class family at the center of the story.
Empathy is an interesting trait; it helps people understand the lives of others by trying to place one's self in their shoes. Through empathy, people can love someone who is not related to them by blood. In a sense, Cuaron exercises empathy in his creation of this film - Cleo's story is also the story of Cuaron's own childhood housekeeper - and the film is basically her story told through Cuaron's eyes. And yet, it remains acutely sensitive to the fact that this relationship is still that of master and servant, shaped by colonial and capitalist forces. It's a dynamic that shares lineage with Philippine Cinema, with films like Ano ang Kulay ng Mga Nakalimutang Pangarap? (2013) and Inang Yaya (2006). It is yet another paradox, embodied in two separate shots: the shot you see in the poster above, and another shot, happening minutes before the previous one, with Cleo observing at a distance, watching her wards play in the sand. And yet, as the movie's final sequence shows us this disparity through architecture (Cleo and her fellow housemaid Adela dwelling in the ground floor, while the family dwells in the upper floors), Cleo manages to ascend beyond them, to the roof. Like her namesake, from Agnes Varda's Cleo from 5 to 7 (1962), she is her own woman, a flesh and blood human being.
It's these little details that make Roma an outstanding work of art. Cuaron packs the frame with detail. It's camera is floaty, detached, almost like a ghost. These frames are memories, intimate yet viewed at a distance. Another interesting quirk of Cuaron's rears its head during the climactic sequence, where the sea (or bodies of water) becomes both a menace and an instrument towards catharsis. In his earlier Y Tu Mama Tambien (2001), the sea is the final entryway to sexual awakening and adulthood; in Gravity (2013), the shore is a refuge from death. In Children of Men (2006), the sea becomes hope.
Perhaps Roma's greatest irony is in the way it was distributed: although this is a cinematic work deserving of biggest and grandest screen available, Roma was distributed via Neflix, with a limited theatrical release. One wonders how many people will see this film in such a limited form and not be able to witness its true potential.
Carlo Enciso Catu's been busy making films in 2018. His third film of this year, Aria, is perhaps Catu at his most straightforward. It is divided into two storylines: a WWII era love story, as well as a story set in more contemporary times. At the center of both is Piding, a woman who joins the Hukbalahap just as Japanese forces manage to drive away the Americans and begin their occupation of the Philippine Islands. In the present day, Piding is an elderly woman whose pension (owing to her service as a guerrilla fighter) has been taken away, leading her to challenge the government in order to get it back.
The present day storyline is far more interesting on paper (and it's also based on a true story). Unfortunately, it is relegated to an afterthought, the film preferring to concentrate more on the conventional love story that is at the center of this film. While not bad per se, this love story is a path well trodden, reminiscent of several other WWII love stories in the Philippine setting. As is, Aria is a perfectly serviceable film, if a little unremarkable.
Meanwhile, over in India, the box office is still being dominated by Shankar's science fiction blockbuster 2.0, sequel to the 2010 film Enthiran (Robot), managing to survive the onslaught of not one, but two superhero movies. 2.0 is a patently absurd, insane mess of a film, yet also immensely enjoyable because of that fact. I mean, who wouldn't want to see thousands of dove-riding Rajinikanths fighting against a giant cellphone monster? I would.
The sequel takes the lore of the first movie and spins it in a more conventional way. The original Enthiran was a sci-fi film through and through, a Kollywood riff on films like I, Robot and A.I. and Bicentennial Man; a thought experiment that posed the question: what would happen if a sentient robot was built in an Indian milieu? How would it react to and learn from cultural ideas and stimuli? This film, on the other hand, follows a more conventional route, following the standard South Indian Revenge Film plot structure (a structure that's been around since ancient times) and incorporating Hollywood blockbuster tropes into its programming. It's carried by tons of top quality VFX, Rajinikanth's undeniable charisma and an excellent performance by an otherwise unrecognizable Akshay Kumar.
Although less song and dance and more Michael Bay style mayhem, 2.0 is still an enjoyable ride, as long as you don't think about it too much.
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