Occasionally approaches moments of genuine willingness to engage with its own culture and the world its depicting, but mostly it remains too distant and clinical to be considered anything other than exploitative; only interested in how the camera is moving and what visual metaphors are going to pop up next. If this is supposed to be a tribute to the women in his life, I'm genuinely convinced Alfonso Cuarón has never sat down to actually speak to any of them. They're props. Nothing more.

Cuarón is a mother driving, this film is her car scraping against the wall shamelessly, y yo soy la criada, parada como mensa, esperando que esto termine.