Alfonso Cuarón’s Roma is more than just a film — it is a meditation on memory, love, class, and resilience. Set in 1970s Mexico City and filmed in luminous black-and-white, the Netflix original draws from the director’s childhood to portray the quiet heroism of Cleo, a domestic worker whose presence anchors a family amid personal and political turbulence.
A Story Rooted in Memory
Cuarón builds Roma from fragments of his own boyhood, weaving them into a cinematic family album. The story unfolds through Cleo (Yalitza Aparicio), the live-in maid whose quiet devotion sustains a middle-class household. From waking the children with songs to tucking them into bed, Cleo embodies both warmth and restraint.
What makes the film extraordinary is not just the portrayal of her daily routines — cooking, scrubbing, washing — but how these seemingly mundane rituals become acts of resilience, almost spiritual in their repetition. They form the foundation of a home quietly falling apart as the father leaves, the mother struggles with heartbreak, and political unrest shakes Mexico’s streets.
Cleo at the Heart of Roma
While Roma is deeply personal to Cuarón, it is Cleo who gives the film its emotional core. Aparicio, in her debut performance, embodies stillness and dignity. Her restrained expressions capture an ocean of emotions, from her silent heartbreak after being abandoned during pregnancy to her quiet bravery in saving the children from drowning in the sea.
But Roma is also a story of Cleo and her employer finding comfort in each other’s presence. Even in moments of personal despair, Sofia (Marina de Tavira) does not abandon Cleo. Instead, their bond strengthens in subtle gestures of support — a hand held during heartbreak, a shared silence in times of loss. Though class divides remain, their shared struggles reveal the fragile yet profound ways women carry each other through adversity.
Visual Poetry and Technical Brilliance
Cuarón, who also served as cinematographer, creates images of breathtaking clarity. His wide 360-degree sweeps expand domestic life into something universal, capturing both the intimacy of a household and the chaos of history unfolding outside.
Moments like the father parking his massive car with comic precision, the New Year’s Eve party cutting between owners and servants, or the violent student protest erupting inside a furniture store, all linger long after the credits. Each frame is alive with layers — personal drama set against the backdrop of national upheaval.
Themes of Class, Love, and Resilience
Roma thrives in its silences. It acknowledges the invisible labor of women like Cleo, whose loyalty and kindness often mask the inequalities that bind them. The family loves her, but the boundaries of class are never erased — shown most poignantly when Cleo sits briefly with them during a TV show only to be asked to fetch tea moments later.
Still, beyond the divides, Roma highlights the quiet solidarity between women — Cleo and Sofia, both abandoned by men, find a fragile companionship in each other. The film becomes not just a tribute to memory, but also a meditation on shared resilience.
A Cinematic Experience for the Ages
Roma is not a film of fast plots or dramatic twists; it is an experience to be absorbed. It rewards patience with moments of profound emotional truth. From the opening scene of washing a tiled floor to the haunting stillness of the closing frames, Roma reflects on how memory, ritual, kindness, and human connection endure amid chaos.
Bullseye Rating:★★★★½ (4.5/5 stars)
Alfonso Cuarón’s Roma is a poetic, visually stunning, and emotionally resonant tribute to memory and the unsung women who hold families together. At its core, it is also the story of Cleo and her employer — two women bound by hardship, resilience, and a quiet companionship that transcends social boundaries.
The movie is currently streaming on Netflix.
