To Practice For Perfection.
Cuaron’s jaunting stay is frankly too practical to handle. Mumbling the mundane lifestyle of a maid in a mellow vocab, Cuaron has made his best film to date. First thing’s first, the notable and yes loud cinematography of his is hauntingly beautiful. No one ever points out the facts that goes behind the camera on screen like such and even though it eerily resonates with Anderson’s symmetric camera work, it is a testament of its own for he himself was never able to speak effervescently like such. Speaking of it, there barely resides a stable conversation in here, the bickerings, the murmurings, the gossip, every bit of narration is piled under such pragmatic state of environment. Cuaron speaks through body language and physical sequences, to a point where they themselves become a character.
The sequence of a car being parked is so absorbing to encounter it on screen, which then enfolds into another layer of perspective to its intention and then another and then another. Cuaron keeps giving you reason- nay- he challenges you to get disengaged from this humble imbalanced world. And the host that he has selected to narrate this saga is a pure delight on terms of character development. Surprisingly, to write such a character is a daunting task. For its persistency ought to be justified and he does it in here as a mere distraction; kudos to him.
Each time the protagonist is helping the younger ones or her employers, Cuaron subconsciously maps out another milestone in your mind. The stillness of a scene staged in a room puts you right there on the spot among the actors, where you have to work your way through to concentrate the gossip or sort out the primary activity in a frame. Amongst many steps that constructs this ingenious behemoth monument called drama, personally that speaks to you is the sort-of-training-camp where Cuaron speaks honestly of his theme without any strings attached.
The cast has done a fabulous work, from the lead Aparicio as a humble supporter of this family and Tavira as the real supporter of Aparicio, along with the young cast which may resemble to the younger cast of Malick’s The Tree Of Life. But Cuaron’s dish is not spiced up with plethora of ingredients like Malick’s, his sweetness is competent enough to tick for its course. Cuaron’s span spent upon screen is a mesmerizing poem weaved out to clean and scrub a house properly.
And boy what a poem it is, dipped into a metaphorical tone, it soars just like those planes hovering around in the background. For the most part of it, Cuaron keeps the frame under the shades, teasing us to seek for the action going on and similar to it the storytelling too feeds on our imagination that is at brisk all the time, especially the last act that scares you with the closure that you are trying to achieve. Roma narrows down cinema to a better quality, Cuaron makes sure it isn’t compromised for any reason whatsoever, not even for him.