In Romeria, Catalonian Carla Simon returns to what does best: semi-autobiographical filmmaking. She mastered the skill in her filthy genius debut Summer 1993 (2018), about the passing of her biological parents to Aids in the early 1990s, when she was just six. Her second feature, Golden Bear winner Alcarras (2022), is a far less personal – albeit still very Catalonian – and perhaps for that reason less evocative. Her third feature Romeria is a movie as strong as the first one. A cinematic tour-de-force. This time she portrays her travels to Galicia in search of her roots, for both legal and emotional reasons. All three films use a combination of professionals and non-professionals.
Simon’s proxy is Marina (Llúcia Garcia), who grew up with her adoptive parents up in Catalonia, in Northeastern Spain. She has no recollection of her biological parents: her Galician father on and her Catalonian mother. They both died when she was very young. She travels to her Galicia, in Northwestern Spain, in search of her father’s death certificate in order to claim a university scholarship. This is where her parents met, enjoyed a very intense and drug-laced relationship, and died of Aids. At the notary, she finds out that the document omits her existence, stating that her father had no children. Marina has to seek her biological grandparents in order to rectify the error.
Countless uncles, aunts and cousins welcome Marina, and the dark secrets gradually begin to emerge. Fon did not die in the year Marina was told, but several years later instead. The conservative values of Galicia prevented the truth from reaching Marina. The topics of heavy drugs and Aids were a taboo in the deeply Catholic nation, and the grandparents took a very extreme measure in order to shield their family reputation. However shocking, such tactics were not unusual at the time (perhaps they are still widespread?). There are moments of connection, too. Marina bonds with the cousins around her age. They dive into the crystal-clear Ocean waters, and they party together. A doting aunt makes a visible effort to make Marina feel welcome, and her actions do not go unnoticed.
There are many moments of awkwardness, particularly after Marina meets her grandparents. Her grandmother barely acknowledges her presence, while spouting malicious and hurtful comments: “why did it take you so long to come here” and “you don’t look like your mother”. The grandfather hugs all grandchildren except Marina, offering her money instead. Marina confronts the gesture with dignified determination: “This is not what I came here for”. The cold reception impacts Marina’s connection to her relatives. She constantly asks herself fundamental questions about the nature of family: what would her life have been life had she been brought up by her paternal relatives? Does sharing blood with someone means they are your family? These reflections are shown in text format, in brief intertitles.
The cultural differences – however subtle to non-Spanish eyes – are very significant. Marina’s first language is Catalonian (the language in which her mother’s diary is written, and which she reads in voiceover format). She has to communicate with Galicians in Castilian because she doesn’t speak their local language. She feels notably uncomfortable when the loving aunt attempts to dance a local folk song with her. The Galician lyrics contain some strange and old-fashioned sexual innuendo, leaving the teenager uncomfortable. The sea too is very foreign: Marina senses a smell different to the Mediterranean where she grew up, and the water is much colder (Galicia is on the Atlantic Ocean, with polar currents nearby). Thus Romeria celebrates the linguistic and the geographic diversity of Spain. In a way, it is an ode to a country of multiple cultures and nations.
Stylistically, it is austerity and simplicity that prevail. This is a movie devoid of sophisticated technical wizardry. The vaguely grainy texture of the images suggests modest camera equipment. The opening and closing credits are plain black. And the music score is minimal. The outcome is not dull: quite the opposite. The images are infused with beauty and nostalgia. A nudity scene on the Cies Islands is of remarkable seduction (incidentally, The Guardian once elected the Cies the most beautiful beach in the world).
Garcia delivers a quietly devastating performance. She is headstrong yet soft-spoken. Overwhelmed yet calm. An interpretation worthy of the Best Actress Award.
The final third of this 115-minute drama consists mostly of dream sequences, as Marina imagines the predicament of her parents. The scenes are very strong, including moments of intense passion and also very graphic drug-taking (at times, the two coincide). Marina finds vicarious pleasure and also pain in reading her mother’s diary and concocting images of her parents’ tragic and turbulent relationship in her head. This is heartbreakingly honest cinema at its finest. Humble in its sobriety. Confident in its austerity. Urgent in its simplicity.
The film title is Spanish for pilgrimage, in relation to Marina’s travel to the other side of the country. And Galicia is a nation synonymous with pilgrimage. Not only is the capital Santiago de Compostela the final destination of the Camino de Santiago, but also movie directors from other nations have a habit of visiting the Celtic region for filmmaking purposes. This includes French Oliver Laxe’s Fire Will Come (2019), Catalonian Isabel Coixet’s Elisa and Marcela (2019), Madrilenian Rodrigo Sorogoyen’s The Beasts (2022), Basque Jaione Camborda’s The Rye Horn (2023). and now Simon’s Romeria. Some of these directors are of Galician background (like her character, Simon was born to a Galician father, while Laxe had a Galician father and mother). This movie critic and filmmaker too was born to a Galician father (in Brazil), and hopes to make a film in Galicia one day.
Romeria premiered in the Official Competition of 78th Cannes International Film Festival, when this piece was originally written. It was this writer’s favourite film to win the Palme d’Or, something that it did not achieve. Also showing in the 31st Sarajevo Film Festival, in San Sebastian, in the BFI London Film Festival, and at the Tallinn Black Nights.
