Cannes Review: Carla Simón's Romería Explores Personal Themes of Intergenerational Conflict

      Following the understated tone of her Golden Bear-winning film Alcarràs, Carla Simón presents Romería, yet another narrative centered on generational conflict. This film explores the family stories that are openly shared and those that remain hidden, set against Spain’s Atlantic coast, where 18-year-old orphan Marina (Llúcia Garcia) seeks to reconnect with her paternal relatives. It also addresses themes of displacement and a longing for lost heritage, which resonate deeply for a director whose parents passed away from AIDS during her childhood, and who reunited with her father's family in Vigo, Galicia, at the same age as Marina. Simón has consistently drawn from her own life experiences in her filmmaking; Romería may be her most intimate project to date.

      The narrative unfolds over five days in 2004, incorporating an extensive flashback to 1983 in the latter half. Marina, an aspiring filmmaker, is preparing to attend college but requires her parents' death certificates to apply for a grant. She travels to Vigo, reconnecting with her uncle Lois (Tristán Ulloa) and, through him, her other relatives. Simón employs her mother’s diary as a structural element, dividing Romería into chapters, each introduced with quotes, as if revealing her life gradually. In one instance, Simón seamlessly integrates her own contemporary digital camera footage from the original journey—though aside from that and the appearance of a Nokia 3310, there is surprisingly little to evoke the era. The film captivates with its sincerity, including moments of sexual tension between Marina and her newfound cousin Nuno (Mitch Martín), who later appears in flashbacks representing her father. A similar dynamic is suggested with her uncle, Iago (Alberto Gracia), who was closest to her mother and thus deeply affected by Marina's return, yet Simón handles this potentially awkward aspect of their reunion with commendable sensitivity and respect.

      Through Iago, Simón unravels additional dimensions of the story, examining the darker elements of Marina’s parents’ history while simultaneously forming a closer bond with their legacy. Marina learns that her parents once crossed the Atlantic by boat, only to become entangled in the heroin trade, ultimately falling victim to addiction and illness. This remains a painful memory for the family, who kept her father isolated indoors during his sickness. The narrative builds to a gathering around the midpoint, where Marina and her cousins visit their grandparents in an upscale hillside villa, showcasing a remarkable moment as Marina anticipates how this distant, almost mythical relative will receive her. Garcia excels in this scene, embodying a barely contained excitement that shifts in the subtlest ways. She shines again moments later when the young relatives form a line to greet their grandfather, waiting as he hands each of them a little money. As the camera captures Marina’s turn, Simón invites the audience to share in her tension.

      A premiere in the Cannes competition marks a first for this director and feels like a natural progression following her Berlinale victory, although I wonder if such prestigious surroundings could potentially hinder it. Romería offers depth, a vivid sense of place and personal history, and unmistakable hints of inner lives, yet its aesthetic and formal modesty may contrast sharply with the typical Cannes offerings, making it prone to being overlooked. Simón's boldest choice is to transport us back to her parents’ troubled past in the ’80s, with Marina representing her mother and Nuno her father; both appear extraordinarily appealing in the radiant sunlight, embodying youthful love and freedom. I doubt it will significantly impact the festival scene, but Romería’s themes of closure and self-discovery make for an engaging viewing experience.

      Romería premiered at the 2025 Cannes Film Festival.