<em>Roma</em> Is the Latest Entry in Alfonso Cuarón’s Feminist Oeuvre
A single line of dialogue in Alfonso Cuarón’s Roma, spoken by a character based on his mother to a character based on his childhood caretaker, lays bare the theme of the entire film. “No matter what they tell you,” the mother says, “we women are always alone.”
By the time she makes this pronouncement, more than an hour and a half in, it feels like an understatement. Set in early-1970s Mexico City and photographed in neorealist black-and-white so crystalline that the picture looks as if it could shatter into a million pieces, the film opens on a frantic scramble in a household based on Cuarón’s. Antonio, the character inspired by Cuarón’s father, returns from his job as a surgeon in his growling, monstrous, regal Ford Galaxie and attempts to maneuver it into a garage far too narrow for its girth, smooshing a pile of fresh dog crap along the way.
The space is so tight that he must slide across the passenger seat to get out of the car and into the house. Shortly after we see him for the first time, we hear him berate his wife, Sofia. She tries unsuccessfully to appease him, even though (as we will later learn) she knows he’s having an affair. His mood worsens further the next day, when he steps in the aforementioned pile; in turn, Sofia trains her ire on the family’s maid and
