Review by Eric Hillis
Directed by: Carla Simón
Starring: Llúcia Garcia, Mitch Martín, Tristán Ulloa, Celine Tyll, León Romagosa, Hans Romagosa, Marina Troncoso, José Ángel Egido
With her excellent 2017 debut Summer 1993, Spanish writer/director Carla Simón channelled her own heartbreaking experience of losing her parents to the AIDS crisis of the '80s. She has now returned to that territory with her third film, Romería (which translates to English as "Pilgrimage"). Where the protagonist of her debut was a six-year-old fictionalised version of herself, here it's an 18-year-old who takes centre stage.
When applying for a scholarship to attend film school, Marina (Llúcia Garcia) discovers that her father's family have removed him from the official paperwork she needs to produce for her application. Hoping to resolve this, Marina travels to the coastal town of Vigo and meets with her father's family for the first time.
In Summer 1993, the cruelty of the perception around AIDS and HIV at that time was largely shielded from its oblivious young protagonist, but as a teenager in 2004 Marina is well aware of the stigma of her parents' demise. When she overhears young cousins speaking about how their parents have told them not to make any physical contact with Marina, it is clear that old prejudices continue to linger. The new aunts and uncles Marina discovers are all outwardly welcoming, but there is a sense that they are putting her off meeting with her grandparents, who don't want reminding of their son's death, which they view as shameful.
Simón clads her young heroine in a red dress early on, suggesting she is Little Red Riding Hood about to meet the Big Bad Wolf in the form of her grandmother (and grandfather). The days leading up to the encounter are marked as chapters, and there is a feeling that Marina is on her way to meet Colonel Kurtz, or the final villain of some video game. When she finally meets her grandparents she discovers that they would rather pay her off than acknowledge her existence in any official records. Along with other revelations of their cruel treatment of her father in his dying days, Marina adopts the rebellious spirit associated with her mother.
Garcia delivers a quiet star-making turn. As the taciturn Marina, who prefers to film others with her camcorder rather than engage in conversation, she exudes the mix of confidence and nervousness that is unique to the artistic soul. When those around her are unwittingly cruel, her sad eyes tell us just how affected she is by a way of thinking from a generation to which she can't relate. The naturalism of the supporting cast creates the impression that these people are real family members, as though the actors have developed a connection by rehearsing separately from Garcia.
As a filmmaker, Simón adds an element of expressionism to her usual vérité approach with a dream sequence in which Marina imagines herself as her young mother. A musical number in an '80s nightclub sees the joyous dancers one by one morph into cartoon ghosts as sheets are thrown over their heads, a blunt but moving visual representation of the impact of AIDS on a generation of young hedonists. We're left with a sense of closure for Marina, and perhaps for Simón, who continues to inspire by taking the cruel hand life dealt her and turning it into something positive through her continually impressive work.
Romería is in UK/ROI cinemas from May 8th.
