Roma was a home run for me. I hasten to say it was not quite what I had expected, yet in some ways it was exactly as advertised, and in any case drew me in. Somehow the reviews I'd seen had downplayed the warmth of the many-faceted relationships between an upper middle class Mexican family in the early 70s and its indigenous live-in help, even though critics correctly pegged the film as an exploration of pervasive racism and class awareness.
The film's ambience was very reflective of some of my own experience of Mexico as an exchange student, even though I was fortunate to be there in 1960, about a decade before the timeframe of the film's setting. Anyway the early 60s were a time of vibrancy in the beginning of an economic and political upswing, before the uprisings and ensuing violent attempts to preserve status quo ante. When I was there, university students were not yet considered a problematic wedge towards abrupt change in the social structure; education was regarded as proper stepping stone for anyone who could somehow get to university, even though racism and classism were still ingrained.
In the movie, set ten years later, the edges of the then upcoming rupture were right on the money: presented in glimpses and still mostly as incipient. I would think that was exactly how it was perceived. No one high in relative power structures likes to think consciously about the ways in which they gradually accommodate perceived need to resist oncoming social change. One tends to avert eyes from protrusion of change into passing scenes of one's commute to work or marketplace, and to take little steps to guard against encroachment. Meanwhile the divisions fester in their separate hideyholes.
The film only broadly hints at the nature of what would become the turmoil of the 1970s, and in at least a few scenes requires a little suspension of disbelief along lines of "uh... of all the guerillas in Mexico who might show up in that middle class retail store, we happen to know this one already?" File under ya gotta hook stuff together somehow, and suspension of disbelief is the glue.
The film rings true for its times: I lived with an upper middle class family in the federal district, the papa was a pharmacist and business owner, and I saw for myself the indisputable caring of the family members towards their maid and yard worker, even if that caring was also infantilizing and rarely acknowledged any of the initiative and drive of "the underclass". On the other hand, as in most societies paying obeisance to any sort of racial/economic caste system, no one ever forgot who was who... and who was light, and right... even within the family itself in the case of marriages between indigenous and Castilians.
Still, the maid loved the kids, the kids loved the maid, the mama loved the maid not least because if something went wrong that maid was the obvious problem and her only recourse was once in awhile using reflexive verbs in her explanations of what happened: "The dish let itself fall to the floor" did become the consensus solution... and life moved on no matter if it was mama reaching for a dish that had ended its useful life. The menfolk of society were on pedestals regardless of class and if they ever cast a too loving eye on a maid it was someone else's maid and some other household's problem. In the film that was a key that unlocked views of both problems and workarounds of Mexican society of the times.
So the film was practically a flashback for me. And why not; the director came from approximately where I was living then, the front of his film's family home might have been that of my home during my time in the DF, and he had set his film a mere ten years later. The main difference to my own experience was that the papa in the film family was not mestizo. In my exchange student family, Papa's ascension spoke to education (and "marrying up") as a stepping stone past race and class expectations, but racism and class awareness persisted into the nextgen in that family anyway, as is still typical around the world despite love reaching across those barriers now and then.
I would say that the English subtitles may have somewhat filed off the rough edges of a few of the aspersions cast at perceived inferiors in the film's dialogue, perhaps as how Americans refer to "the N-word" as such rather than using the word itself. There's one phrase in that movie that was shocking to hear an indigenous man use to address an indigenous woman. My Spanish isn't that great any more, but I heard someone use that particular term on an indigenous woman once when I was in Oaxaca, and the English translation missed the savage dehumanizing intent in that situation. In its viciousness the original exchange sharpened the director's focus on the fact that awareness of "caste" was not limited to the Castilians in Mexican society of that era.