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In fields of creative pursuit such as architecture and filmmaking, material worlds are crafted with aspirations of rendering beauty or meaning. Yet, in these pursuits, what might we overlook? Alex Anderson observes that the challenge for architecture’s disciples lies in “[remaining] attuned, as Ruskin was, to the ethical capacities of architecture, ensuring that aesthetic ambitions do not obscure decency or foster inequity.” Recognizing this, we must accept that design—even at its most minuscule scale—is neither morally nor politically neutral.
When understanding the form and function of a space, we must also consider how these material worlds—the spaces defined and occupied—shape and are shaped by social worlds and interpersonal relationships. This essay draws a parallel between architects and filmmakers, whose shared roles involve much more than simply producing material worlds and delineating space.
While it is often acknowledged that architecture holds the power to affect social worlds, a critical question remains: What are the specific consequences of this power for those inhabiting these material structures? I will argue that architects and filmmakers wield their power through the material spaces they design in ways that produce and repress socio-economic relationships—specifically, between designers and inhabitants, and between inhabitants of differing social classes. Focusing on two films, Parasite and Roma, this essay examines how these relationships manifest, particularly in the interactions between employers and domestic workers, separated by significant class distinctions. Through the lens of these films, I aim to articulate how architecture and filmmaking alike shape the power dynamics between those who create and those who inhabit spaces.
Theoretical Orientations
The primary argument of this thesis builds on Michel Foucault’s conceptualization of power, which expands traditional notions of power in two key ways. First, power is not merely repressive but also productive: it produces knowledge, discourse, and narratives. This framework is essential to my argument. While power may constrain agency, it also reinforces socio-economic structures, producing new or strengthening existing relationships and inequalities. Viewed through this lens, the work of architects and filmmakers reveals not only the ways in which agency is limited but also how socio-economic divides are materialized through the spaces they create.
Second, Foucault positions power as dispersed, describing it as “permanent, repetitious, inert, and self-reproducing.” Architecture, as a constructed environment, becomes a means through which power is dispersed in ways that often escape notice. Spaces shape behavior and relationships, yet their power often remains obscured from both the designer and the user. This notion of decentralization is crucial: this hidden nature, its invisibility, renders it insidious. As such, architects and architecture students must grapple with the potency of their work, which has far-reaching ethical and political implications.
This perspective draws from the arguments of Hilary Sample (in Maintenance Architecture) and Frida Escobedo (in Domestic Orbits), both of whom contend that architecture can obscure or erase marginalized groups, such as domestic workers. However, this critique must extend beyond the physical structures to consider the architects themselves as active agents within these dynamics as focusing solely on architecture as an object risks overlooking the decisions and responsibilities of its creators. By reframing the discussion to include the roles of architects and filmmakers, this essay examines how their work often moulds societal relations and punctuates inequities. Understanding these influences introduces a path to critically evaluate their entangled positions within broader social and cultural contexts.
Class Divides & Spatial Composition
Frida Escobedo’s Domestic Orbits critiques the way architecture conceals spaces of domestic labor, rendering these workers invisible except in their absence. This erasure is paralleled in Parasite, where the long-term domestic worker’s husband, Geun-sae, lives in a hidden bunker—designed by a fictional architect—beneath the house for four years, completely unknown to its owners. Similarly, in Roma, this invizibilization is also evident in the expectations placed on Cleo, the primary domestic worker, and Adela, her fellow housekeeper, by Sofia, the mother of the house. Sofia instructs them to turn off the light outside their small shared bedroom, ostensibly to conserve electricity. Earlier in the scene, Cleo is shown keeping the lights in the uninhabited living room illuminated while switching off lights throughout the family’s home —a r from Sofia. Her directive reflects not merely a concern for conserving electricity, but a deliberate limitation of the laborers’ access to it. Consequently, Cleo and Adela are left to spend the rest of their evening by the dim light of a single candle.
The architect's ability to reinforce class divides is also reflected in spatial arrangements. In Parasite, the “line” described by Mr. Park demarcates a boundary between employer and employee, materialized through architectural elements such as partitions and seating arrangements. Similarly, in Roma, domestic workers occupy cramped quarters above the family’s living space, accessible only by a precarious staircase. These spaces, designed exclusively for labor, blur the boundaries between work and personal life, further perpetuating these latent inequalities.
Socioeconomic Realities & Spatial Framing
Both architects and filmmakers employ the act of framing to organize and define space, producing or repressing certain narratives. Pier Paolo Pasolini described framing as an intentional ordering of reality to communicate meaning. The inclusion and exclusion inherent in framing can create visibility but also erasure. Thus, filmmaking, like architecture, becomes an act of representation, constructing narratives that strengthen or challenge existing power dynamics.
In Parasite, director Bong Joon-ho constructs architectural spaces to emphasize socio-economic divides, such as the vertical hierarchy of class: the unemployed live underground, the working class in a semi-basement, and the wealthy in a house perched on a hill. The spatial divide is further emphasized in the glass partition joint, which separates the wealthy Park family from their lower-class employees. Similarly, in Roma, Alfonso Cuarón’s deliberate use of camera pans often relegates Cleo to the edges of the frame, visually evoking her marginalization. This act of framing mirrors the architectural spaces she inhabits, making her position as a domestic worker both visible and invisible.
The roles of architects and filmmakers intersect in their ability to frame and shape spaces, influencing the lives of those who occupy them. This parallel underscores the ethical responsibilities of both professions. By examining architecture through the lens of film, we can better understand how design choices (in)visibilize innately immaterial power structures. Importantly, film provides a platform to communicate these consequences to a broader audience, lending to an awareness of architecture's otherwise elusive complicity. As creators of material worlds, architects and filmmakers must recognize and act upon their capacity to perpetuate or challenge socio-economic divides as a path toward meaningful change.
