While Romería might be another entry in the retro-drama subgenre of seeking closure through a semi-autobiographical journey of magical realism, Carla Simón’s picture still comes from a heartfelt place. What makes this film more distinct from the likes of Blue Heron and Aftersun is that it doesn’t involve an adult looking back on a life they left behind, but a teenager looking back on a life they never knew. It is a coming-of-age film about finding the truth to finally grow up, presented through personal and professional goals to uncover hushed histories of the past and move on into the present.

Set in 2004, the 18-year-old Marina (Llúcia Garcia) ventures across Spain to learn the truth about her biological parents. Raised as an orphan, the details about what really happened to them are spotty. Lois (Tristán Ulloa), her uncle, invites her to join his family on their houseboat. He’s open about locations and dates, but other members give conflicting information. Aunt Olalla might fit Marina for a dress, but she’ll also advise her family behind closed doors to keep their distance, referring to bad blood. These discoveries start to paint a bigger picture than what Marina took away from her parents’ journal entries and even her own memories.

Llúcia Garcia has a quiet presence as mesmerizing as the locations on her Spanish journey to confirm her lineage. She takes time to reflect on what she hears and how much she recalls, especially when told the earth-shattering news that her dad didn’t die when she was a baby. The only way Marina will get the information she wants is if she starts going against the adults as much as Lois’s son, Nuno (Mitch Martín). Her journey eventually leads to her grandfather, who offers her money, but she declines. What she truly desires is a scholarship that can only be attained if her family’s information is corrected on government documents. Getting to that point will require digging into the past that the embarrassed family would rather keep buried. But with such a fully realized family busying themselves with caring for children and gathering for dinner, it’ll be tough to get a word in between all the singing and debates. It’s only in the quieter moments with the drinking and smoking Nuno that the blunt honesty comes out instead of the forced pleasantries. Their many conversations are refreshing, giving Marina somebody to connect with, but tense, with the thought of what secret might be tossed out next.

As with recent reflective dramas about the passage of time, Marina gets a chance to step outside time and experience what really happened to her parents in the 1980s. AIDS and heroin laced that history and reveal how much of it affected Marina’s family. The dream-like scenes of witnessing her mother (also Llúcia Garcia) and father (also Mitch Martín) showcase a couple that was sexual, troublesome, and perhaps not ready to be parents. But this revelation isn’t treated so much as a tragedy as a refreshing beauty in the truth being set free. The highs and lows of such a life are laid bare, treated with as much earnest dignity as the camera Marina uses for her future filmmaking career. She captures the raw beauty not just of the gorgeous port areas of Spain, but of a place she wants to preserve.

Romería is a tragic and beautiful film, rich in seaside beauty and reflective conversations throughout its compelling pilgrimage. Although the setting might resonate most with millennials (I was 19 in 2004), there’s a universal appeal that resonates with any generation. Family can still bury taboo topics and leave an entire generation oblivious to the warts of an era before them. If the elders won’t admit these truths, it’s up to the next generation to seek out these answers that will allow them to grow. Carla Simón weaves such a movie with grace and earnestness, sympathetic to those trying to find their way into adulthood and hopefully a better life that won’t be forgotten.

Not available on any streaming platforms.

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