Romería reviewed by Emily Hill

With her third feature, Catalan auteur Carla Simón continues to tell personal, semi-autobiographical stories in a realistic, intimate style. Drawing on themes of memory and belonging, and inspired by her own upbringing as an orphan, her debut film Summer 1993 (2017) explored childhood grief, trauma, and displacement. These would inform her second film Alcarràs (2022), in which a family’s resilience is challenged by the threat of modern life in rural Catalonia. Now, reflecting on her life before her parents’ deaths, Simón spins a coming-of-age tale of introspection and growth, as an 18-year-old Marina (Llúcia Garcia) seeks her identity and finds herself on the threshold of adulthood, in ROMERIA.

Set in early 2000s Vigo, Spain, we follow Marina’s search for answers about her father, Alfonso, who she believed had died the year she was born. Applying to study cinema at university, she travels to meet her paternal family in order to have herself recognised on his death certificate, from which her name is mysteriously absent, but several details about her father’s life remain unknown to Marina. The family’s version of history is fuelled by shame, guilt and emotional trauma, offering alternative endings to her father’s life, and leaving the girl without an idea of what came before her.

The film’s structure is anchored by quotes from Marina’s diary. Questions such as ‘Who would I be if my father’s family had raised me?’, and ‘Will I find a trace of my biological parents?’ give a sense of an internal monologue. Simón’s use of different media expresses the idea of searching for the self: early 2000s digital camera footage is contrasted with Super-8 film of her parents’ youth in the 1980s. As we begin to understand how Marina’s parents met, fell in love, and died, this footage also allows us to see them as young adults separate from Marina, with their own flaws, complexities, and secrets. Our viewership becomes inseparable from hers.

While the film’s premise is inherently intriguing - a coming of age story of a young woman discovering her personal identity - the film’s pacing can feel slow at times. Simón’s style is captivating and memorable; its warm, poetic feel favours unspoken scenes with physical poignancy. This serves as both an excellent reflection on time and the long summer days, but can also feel drawn out, sometimes without deeper meaning or intent.

However, any unfulfilling moments of introspection are long forgotten in the final act of ROMERIA. In a truly captivating ending, the same actress plays both Marina and her mother. Scenes of the two women sitting next to each other, both in red against a bright blue summer’s sky, are striking, and defy any rejection offered on behalf of Marina’s extended family. ROMERIA translates to ‘pilgrimage’, and these final moments show how exploring the past can offer closure, solace, and comfort while empowering you to find your place within it.