Review #1,463: 'Roma' (2018)

You wouldn't know it, but director Alfonso Cuaron has being paying homage to one of the women that helped raise him as a child throughout his career. This woman, Liboria Rodriguez, is clearly close to the filmmaker's heart, and he cast her in cameos in a few of his films, including 2001's Y Tu Mama Tambien. Now, Rodriguez is the topic of her very own film, Roma, Cuaron's ode to the network of women that were key to his upbringing in 1970s Mexico. Of late, Cuaron has mainly focused on big-budget movies for Hollywood, such as last year's Gravity, the riveting thriller Children of Men, and the best Harry Potter film of the series, The Prisoner of Azkaban, but he has dialled things way down for his latest. Roma is about as small-scale as you can get, focusing on a humble maid working for a middle-class family in Mexico City, but complete with the director's trademark dizzying camerawork and gorgeous cinematography.

In a debut appearance, Yalitza Aparicio plays Cleo, a maid working in an affluent household in the Colonia Roma neighbourhood in Mexico City. The four children are incredibly affectionate towards her, scrambling for a cuddle when they sit down to watch television, and parents Sofia (Marina de Tavira) and Antonio (Fernando Grediaga) clearly rely on her as they get on with their busy lifestyles. But there are cracks starting to appear in the marriage. Antonio squeezes his bulky, show-off car into the narrow garage every night, hinting at the father's growing dismay with his surroundings, and he quickly grows frustrated when Cleo fails to clean up the dog shit littering the patio. However, as happy and content as she may appear on the surface, Cleo has to deal with her own problems when she falls pregnant to a martial-arts obsessed military type who is nowhere to be found. With her employers' marriage falling apart and a baby on the way, Cleo struggles to juggle attempting to hold the family together for the sake of the children, and the idea of starting life as a single mother.

Trying to summarise the plot of Roma is no easy task. This is a slice of life plucked from Cuaron's own memories, shot in luscious black-and-white that almost feels like remembering the past through an old photograph. Roma is about class, politics and poverty, but mainly it wishes to tell a story of an unseen hero whose stories are rarely told. It's a film of moments that leave a mark despite how inconsequential they appear, very similar to the neo-Realist films of Satyajit Ray and Robert Rossellini, somehow telling a story that feels vast and epic in scale while keeping the focus on an incredibly personal level. Cuaron is a true craftsman, and, with regular collaborator Emmanuel Lubezki unavailable, actually steps up to the role of cinematographer. This compromise actually worked out in the film's favour, as you couldn't imagine anyone else recreating a time and place from one's childhood with such detail and intimacy. Liboria Rodriguez is clearly a huge inspiration in Cuaron's life, and here the director steps aside to shine the spotlight on her and many other that disappear into the crowd. It was a surprise to learn that Roma would be distributed through Netflix, but after seeing the film, it's hard to believe that any studios would take a gamble on what is essentially a collection of memories played out on screen. But what beautiful memories they are.


Directed by: Alfonso Cuarón
Starring: Yalitza Aparicio, Marina de Tavira, Diego Cortina Autrey, Carlos Peralta, Marco Graf, Daniela Demesa, Nancy García García
Country: Mexico/USA

Rating: *****

Tom Gillespie

Review #1,013: 'Children of Men' (2006)

When I first saw Alfonso Cuaron's Children of Men 10 years ago, I loved it for its kinetic action and terrifying vision of a world devoid of newborns, made to feel closer to home by the fact that it was set in England. The grim near-future it depicted (set in 2027) felt authentic, with the lack of flying cars, fancy gadgets and futuristic fashion sense making for a more grounded experience. But it felt a world away. Ten years on, the film's unglamorous and sobering scenes of terrorism and refugee overcrowding takes on a whole new level of prescience. Switch on the news now and chances are you'll see footage similar to the grey landscape of Children of Men.

Activist turned paper-pusher Theo (Clive Owen) cynically drinks away his days, with the United Kingdom now one of the few safe havens left in the world, albeit a police state struggling to cope with the influx of migrants. He is kidnapped by militant group the Fishes, led by Theo's former lover Julian (Julianne Moore), and is forced to use his influence within the government to acquire transit papers for a young immigrant named Kee (Clare-Hope Ashitey). With the Fishes' motivations somewhat unclear and divided, Theo flees with Kee and nurse Miriam (Pam Ferris) through hostile terrain in the hope of delivering her to a group dedicated to curing infertility.

Politics and social awareness aside, the action more than holds up to today's standards, with three-Oscars-in-a-row cinematographer Emmanuel Lubezki's long takes and swirling camera still managing to take the breath away. In the films best sequence, Theo, Julian, Kee and Fishes muscle Luke (Chiwetel Ejiofor) are subject to a surprise attack by an armed gang. Action nowadays tends to be edit-heavy with a hand-held camera blurring the proceedings, but Lubezki's fluid camerawork captures the immediacy of the situation while maintaining clarity. Mixing special effects and breathtaking choreography, it's a moment that terrifies, excites and shocks all at once. It is a technique that innovates without feeling gimmicky.

On a deeper note, Children of Men is not just a tale of caution, but also a study of what humanity desires of their children. Here, without children there is no hope. The youngest boy in the world has been stabbed to death, and the world has fallen into complete chaos with the sudden emergence of infertility. While some parents may view their children as an extension of their bloodline and a way to live on after death, some see them as the next generation with an opportunity to affect the world they will inherit. This sentiment is etched on Theo's face when Kee reveals her secret and his task becomes clear. As Theo, Owen proves why he was such a solid leading man for a brief time before retreating from the spotlight, and is backed by an subtly intimidating Ejiofor and a comic-relief Michael Caine as political cartoonist turned pot-grower Jasper.  The real stars, however, are Cuaron and Lubezki, who have crafted a nightmarish vision that is both terrifyingly plausible and uncomfortably gripping.


Directed by: Alfonso Cuarón
Starring: Clive Owen, Clare-Hope Ashitey, Julianne Moore, Chiwetel Ejiofor, Michael Caine, Pam Ferris, Charlie Hunnam
Country: USA/UK

Rating: ****

Tom Gillespie

Review #766: 'Harry Potter and the Prisoner of Azkaban' (2004)

With Chris Columbus abdicating at the sight of dark material, the Harry Potter was gratefully gobbled up by Alfonso Cuaron, a director having only at that point turned heads with the incredibly sexy Y Tu Mama Tambien (2001). This is a vastly different Potter to that which came before. When his dead parents are insulted by an obnoxious aunt (Pam Ferris), Harry blows her out of the window, kicking his bedroom cupboard in a rage. There's no plinky-plonky music or pie-in-the-face sight gags, and when Harry steps outside of his house, the streets are grey and grim, not a cosy suburban horror show.

After fleeing another run-in with the Dursleys, Harry (Daniel Radcliffe) hops on the Knight Bus, which takes him to the Leaky Cauldron where he is to learn his fate having used magic outside of Hogwarts. Best friends Ron (Rupert Grint) and Hermione (Emma Watson) are there waiting for him, when they all learn that convicted serial killer Sirius Black (Gary Oldman) has escaped from notorious prison Azkaban, possibly with Harry in his sights. With the ghostly guardians of Azkaban, the Dementors, surrounding Hogwarts in search of Black, Harry finds his own life in danger, and seeks help from new Defence Against the Dark Arts teacher, and friend of his parents, Professor Lupin (David Thewlis).

With Columbus's kid-friendly approach ditched and Cuaron's more focused direction, the franchise at this point could finally be taken seriously, with real threats finally entering Harry's life, and the trio's characters hitting puberty and becoming more feisty in the process. Cuaron also wisely adapted the book, rather than simply filming the pages, and this is noticeably shorter than it's predecessors despite being the biggest book at this point. Hermione is less precocious, Ron is less gurny, and Daniel Radcliffe finally puts in a decent performance. He isn't perfect, but there's a delightful eccentricity to the actor's mannerisms which make him endearing to watch.

Apart from a climax that makes as little sense as it does in the novel, the story is also more gripping. We finally see Harry's past intertwine with his present, with revelations coming out of the woodwork, and Harry finally starting to learn more about his parents. There's also some genuinely frightening scenes, including the Dementors - hooded, faceless ghouls - and a scene involving a certain character's dangerous affliction. In Cuaron's hands, Harry Potter is genuinely magic, funny when it should be, dark when it needs to be, and it's rather disappointing he didn't go on to direct more of them.


Directed by: Alfonso Cuarón
Starring: Daniel Radcliffe, Rupert Grint, Emma Watson, Gary Oldman, Michael Gambon, David Thewlis, Alan Rickman, Maggie Smith, Robbie Coltrane, Timothy Spall
Country: UK/USA

Rating: ****

Tom Gillespie

Review #721: 'Gravity' (2013)

Movies in space are as common as they come, be it the shaky sets and questionable science of the 1940's and 50's, the camp and kitschy 60's and 70's, the alien-filled deep space of the 80's and 90's, or the explosive CGI of nowadays, audiences have always had a thirst for space opera and film-makers have always had a vision of the great darkness above the sky. But never has it seemed so real, so beautiful and so utterly terrifying as it is in Gravity, Alfono Cuaron's first movie since the excellent Children of Men (2006). It is a truly stellar vision, possibly the finest use of special effects ever. Yet oddly, I kinda hated Gravity, because for all it's promise and early vigour, it's just your average Hollywood popcorn-muncher wrapped in a pretty bow.

Deep into a space mission to service the Hubble Space Telescope, rookie engineer Dr. Ryan Stone (Sandra Bullock) focuses on her work while the wily veteran Matt Kowalski (George Clooney) hums pop tunes and makes cocky remarks. Suddenly, they are hit by high-speed debris from a Russian satellite and are flung into space. Their shuttle, Explorer, is destroyed and their entire crew dead, and their only hope is to float across the great nothing to a Chinese space station, where they hope to re-connect with Houston and find a way home. But with the debris quickly making it's way back around and the perils of nothingness in their way, Stone is faced with some quick and tough decisions.

It's a shame I didn't get to see this in the cinema, as, although I'm not a fan of the 3D revolution, the staggering visuals and wonderful cinematography would have no doubt complimented the medium. Space here is a terrifying beast, the first time cinema has really captured how vast it really is. When Stone is first flung away from the Hubble, she spins manically out of control, reaching out for objects that aren't there, screaming when there's no-one there to hear her. Of course, smooth operator Kowalski is on hand to fly out and rescue her, but in those few minutes of desperation, she is truly alone.

Yet away from the action, Gravity dabbles in terrible, ham-fisted dialogue, familiar disaster-movie set-pieces, and heavy-handed metaphorical imagery about birth, death and life. This is the kind of film that has lines like "you've got to learn to let go" and "clear skies with a chance of satellite debris." Normally I would brush this off as your typical pap but I wanted and expected so much more from Gravity. After the heart-pounding opening 20 minutes, the film begins to drag, and actually feels long for a movie of just 90 minutes. Bullock's character is meant to an underdog, sympathetic in her never-say-die attitude, but she comes off as inept and annoying, and I fail to see why the Academy found her performance worthy of an nomination. A massive disappointment, but certainly a beautiful one.


Directed by: Alfonso Cuarón
Starring: Sandra Bullock, George Clooney
Country: USA/UK

Rating: **

Tom Gillespie