La Camarista

"The Chambermaid" is a poor man's answer to Alfonso Cuaron's "Roma."

Where "Roma" painted on a huge canvas, juxtaposing the isolation of the main character's existence amidst the swirling carnival of life happening around her, the world as we know it might as well not exist at all in "The Chambermaid." Or rather, the world is reduced to the hushed hallways, empty rooms, and service areas of a luxury hotel. That's where Eve works and never seems to leave. Her days are comprised of cleaning and taking care of other people's needs while taking care of none of her own. We see her half-heartedly pursuing classes in order to earn her GED, and we know she has a child she adores but only because we see her on the phone checking in with the person taking care of him. She doesn't seem to have any kind of dating life to speak of, though because of a couple of scenes we know she's a sexual being. Her job is making her sick, but she pushes through the moments when she feels most unwell.

"The Chambermaid" is a sobering film, and it's not that much fun to sit through. But it's a very well made film, and there's something quietly mesmerizing about watching one of the nameless, faceless millions that the world is full of and who we interact with every day without really seeing slowly evolve into a full-bodied character with a rich interior life before our eyes. That this happens through long static shots and little dialogue makes the feat even more impressive. Kudos have to go to Gabriela Cartol, the actress who plays Eve and is in virtually every frame of the film. This is the kind of performance that will never garner any wide recognition, but it's one that should.

The only time we see Eve outside the walls of the hotel is in the film's very last shot. But even then, though we're relieved to see her finally interacting with the larger world, we have to ask ourselves if there's any place in it for her.

Grade: A

Obviously not for those looking for an action flick, this is a stark and personal look at the daily life of Eve, a 24-year-old introverted maid at a luxurious Mexico City hotel. Impeccably portrayed by Gabriela Cartol, Eve must try and deal with the mundane aspects of her job, often being treated as invisible by the guests, inter-staff politics, and trying to find enough time to see and talk to her young son as the job permits.

Yet Eve does aspire for a better future by taking a GED class and working hard to be placed at the top of the list for a better assignment on the 42nd floor. You can see the strain on her face as she endures various disappointments, but also believing that she has little choice but to keep this job. However, as the stress mounts we begin to see her act in some quite unexpected ways.

To me, this movie, directed by Gabriela Cartol, was rather fascinating and I think its realism was genuine. So for those viewers that like a quiet and cerebral film, with realistic acting that really captures a part of human life, then you may find this one to your liking.

The Chambermaid is a beautifully quiet look at a hotel housekeeper's daily existence. The film's narrative line is simple, yet the complexity of Gabriel Cartol's lead performance was stunning.

Anyone that has worked a menial or underappreciated job will appreciate the frustrating workplace dynamics where schmoozers who blow their own horn sometimes get ahead of quiet hardworking people.

In addition the film maker's symbolism of red and white shown in parallel construction was also striking.

For over an hour and a half, I watched the daily routine of a chambermaid at a posh Mexico City hotel, and I wasn't the bit bored. In writer-director Lila Aviles's The Chambermaid, Eve (Gabriela Cartol) experiences with us through the magic of the camera a life as a maid in a hotel with small events that take her through aspiration, eroticism, and disappointment.

Aviles's camera moves very little as it lets Cartol's expressive face tell us about the highs and lows of a blue-collar mom working for her baby and her own social elevation. Not only is she likeable, but she is admirable for the way she does her very best at housekeeping and improving her lot in life with evening school.

Each fold of a sheet or electroshock titillation from co-worker Minitoy (Teresa Sanchez) lets us in to her yearnings and her escapes. When we watch her perform an erotic act for a window washer admirer, we see a 24-year old woman with passions that go beyond her staid working life. Her emergence into an extrovert in her evening class is, like her, slow but sure as she grows into independence and extroversion.

What matters here is that an unexemplary life has yearnings and romance that are hidden to everyone but the camera, revealing a woman of many layers and good intentions, buffeted by fate and her own kindnesses from her desires and ambitions. As in Alfonse Cuaron's Roma, the servant has the insight, but unlike Roma, The Chambermaid is bereft of nostalgia and dominated by the quotidian forces that define modern life, rich or poor.

Here is a winning effort from a first-time filmmaker and a memorable slice of life sure to inform how we see housekeeping in whatever hotel we visit, be it Mexico City, London, or any other great city that hides the lives of the working poor.

La Camarista (The Chambermaid, 2019) by mexican director Lila Avilés is a film that shows a level of freedom within the confines of a restricted budget that is just mindblowing.

If you read the rest of the reviews around here you will get a sense of the style it's shot: the camera, using beautiful cinematography, is a passive witness to a hotel chambermaid's daily routine. There is no spectacularity, not an earthquake to shatter the main character, she's never accused of stealing stuff... There's no dramatic trigger to turn this story into a powerhouse drama. Instead, Avilés chooses, wisely, to dwell on her star's nuanced but effective performance. Gabriela Cartol's Evelina (the maid in the title) is a shy, dreamy and sometimes annoying woman. A real person instead of a stereotype. We're not here to lament her poverty, but to join her daily conversations, her momentary daydreaming, her spirit breaking apart or becoming stronger.

Avilés is not interested on bringing disaster into her characters' lives. She doesn't want them to unravel, instead we're drawn into this colossal universe of a big city hotel and breaks into its small spaces and corners, revealing beauty in routine.

An overall enjoyable experience for audiences who relish subtlety, La Camarista manages to feel as a refreshing take on a cliché subject.