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Semi-autobiographical drama from Gravity director Alfonso Cuarón chronicling a year in the life of a middle-class family in '70s Roma, Mexico City. Best Film winner at Venice Film Festival 2018 and holds both Golden Globes and Oscars for Best Director and Best Foreign-Language Film.

Cleo (Yalitza Aparicio) works for Sofia (Marina de Tavira), a mother of four coping with the absence of her husband. Cleo loves Sofia’s children as her own, but troubling news threatens to relinquish her employment. While the country faces political upheaval, Cleo and Sofia quietly wrestle with changes infiltrating the family home.



Best Director, Cinematography & Foreign Language Film, Academy Awards 2019; Best Director & Foreign Language Film, Golden Globes 2019; Winner of the Golden Lion for Best Film and the SIGNIS Award (Cuarón), 2018 Venice Film Festival

Directed by

Written by



Rating: MA15+ Strong themes and nudity

Spanish and English with English subtitles

Mexico, USA

Telegraph (UK)


Every individual scene feels filled with the lucid detail of a formative recollection or a recurring dream.

Guardian (UK)


In its engagingly episodic way, it is also at times like a soap opera or telenovela. And at other times it feels resoundingly like an epic.

Hollywood Reporter


It’s absolutely fresh, confident, surprising and rapturously beautiful. Read full review

Variety (USA)


Roma is no mere movie — it’s a vision, a memory play that unfolds with a gritty and virtuosic time-machine austerity.

TimeOut (New York)


A richly textured masterpiece, Roma is cinema at its purest and most human.

Vanity Fair


So full of dazzlingly intricate visual poetry, so teeming with sensory spirit, that trying to review it is a bit like trying to review all of life. Which may sound a bit grandiose, but Cuarón's magnum opus provokes such turgid sentiment.

The Times (UK)


Too often Roma feels dramatically insipid (the family is actually profoundly boring) and unsure of what it's trying to say about Cleo's life and her status - if it's saying anything at all. (Graeme Tuckett)


The term "masterpiece" gets chucked around far too loosely, and I mostly try to avoid it. But once in a lucky blue moon, there really are no other words to do a film justice.



Art in the form of film.

Visually stunning, emotionally powerful and just artfully majestic.

More roads should lead here

If you're only gonna go see one black-and-white foreign film at the movies this Summer, Roma is the one to see (sorry, Cold War), 'cause I predict it's that miraculous rarity: an art-house film, beloved by critics, which the multiplex should also find accessible, moving, and resonant. Don't @me. It's just a guess. Hear me out.

There's little propulsive plot but, rather, Roma accumulates vividly rendered moments, second-hand memories, which add up to a touching snapshot of a life (Cleo, live-in housekeeper of Indian descent), a family (her middle-class Mexican employers and their children), and social upheaval (Mexico City, circa 1970). It is an intimate epic where little really happens, but what does happen - and the way Alfonso Cuaron renders it in those prime cinematic terms of image, sound, and time - is quietly mesmerising. It's cumulative power is real.

It's something intensely personal made universal, that finds beauty in the banal, and wonder in the prosaic. It's made with love but resists easy sentiment or romanticism. It's serious but not humourless, slow but never dull, and it's realised with such assured cinematic confidence, such unpretentious humanity, it feels like a lost masterpiece "unveiled", not brand-new but rescued from decades of unjust obscurity.

I left the theatre elated, feeling privileged to have had the opportunity to experience it that way. The fact it was financed by Netflix notwithstanding, Roma bears out hope that even in our brave new world of digital entertainment, the classic cinematic form is still a vital, magical medium of modern human expression.

Personal, Touching Epic

Alfonso Cuaron makes one hell of a powerful movie, and its every bit as fantastic as you've heard.

Every Frame A Painting

Completely surrender yourself to a serene 1970's Mexico. Where Director Alfonso Cuarón crafts his most personal and finest film yet. Subtle yet so intricate, far from black and white.