There’s no place like Roma

Roma is the latest film from Alfonso Cuaron (Gravity,Y Tu Mama Tambien, Harry Potter and the Prisoner of Azkaban) and you’ll probably already have heard that it’s wonderful, a masterpiece, magnificent, Oscar-worthy. But as I know you won’t believe it until you hear it from me (sigh, the responsibility is too much sometimes) I can confirm all of the above.

At this point I should note that many cinephiles have complained that it deserves to be seen at the cinema, on a full-sized screen with full-sized sound, but as it’s a Netflix film (sneer, sneer) most won’t be able to watch it this way. I did see it at the cinema, at one of the very limited London showings (£18.50!), and can say that if you wish to recreate the experience at home all you have to do is pay £7 for a glass of wine, have someone eat popcorn in your ear, have someone trample all over you as they push past to get to the toilet and, of course, play 79 hours of trailers to yourself beforehand. That’s it. Job done.

Now back to the film, which is shot in black and white and is semi-autobiographical, inspired by Cuaron’s own childhood in Mexico City. Opening in 1970, it is essentially a year in the life of a family, which sounds simple, and it is, but it’s so richly textured and layered that it is entirely mesmerising from the first frame to the very last, 135 minutes later. The family is middle class, and lives in the Colonia Roma district. The patriarch is Dr Antonio (Fernando Grediaga), whose arrival home in his large, shiny Ford Galaxie is always thrilling as he’s so often absent. His wife, Sofia (Marina de Tavira), fears she is losing him and is in a state of high anxiety.