Roma Review

Cuaron operated the camera himself in 65mm black and white, and the grammar he chose is severe: slow lateral pans and locked-off wides that treat the frame as a proscenium and let events wander in from the edges. It produces sequences almost nobody else attempts, a hospital delivery held in a single unbroken take, the Corpus Christi massacre erupting through a furniture store window while a woman's water breaks, a beach rescue walked into the surf by someone who cannot swim, shot in one continuous move.

The sound design is the other half, an Atmos field that puts street vendors and dogs and distant aircraft in the room until the house feels geographically real. Yalitza Aparicio, cast with no acting experience, is watchful and self-contained, which suits the film and also limits it. That is the central weakness: the memoir structure keeps Cleo observed rather than known, framed as the household's quiet center by a filmmaker remembering his own childhood servant. The dialogue is mostly household noise by design. As pure image-making it is close to unmatched this century.