cuba

Viva Cuba

Viva Cuba (Director: Juan Carlos Cremata Malberti, Cuba, 2005): Viva Cuba is a charming fairytale/road movie that sub­merges its polit­ical mes­sage in a very per­sonal story of friend­ship and love. Jorgito and his tomboy friend Malu are on the cusp of adoles­cence, and their close friend­ship seems about to morph into some­thing at once more ser­ious and more fright­ening. It’s evident from the way they can be holding hands one minute and arguing viol­ently the next. To make things worse, their fam­ilies detest each other. Malu lives with her mother, a bitter woman whose family used to wield influ­ence in the days before Castro’s revolu­tion. Jorgito’s par­ents have moved to Havana from the coun­tryside and are firm sup­porters of the gov­ern­ment. Each mother admon­ishes her child for playing with an unsuit­able play­mate, but that only drives the pair closer together.

This Romeo and Juliet story really takes off when Malu’s mother decides to leave Cuba forever, to join her boy­friend in what we assume is America. In order to get per­mis­sion to leave the country with Malu, she must get her estranged ex-husband to sign an exit author­iz­a­tion. Knowing this, Malu and Jorgito hatch a plan to appeal to his paternal love (or guilt) by trav­eling in person to see him. The problem is that Malu hasn’t seen her father since she was six, because he works as a light­house keeper at the other end of the country.

The two young prot­ag­on­ists hit the road by train, bus, and oxcart to reach their des­tin­a­tion, but their con­stant squab­bling threatens to ruin the plan. In the mean­time, their wor­ried fam­ilies have seem­ingly recon­ciled in the des­perate search for their missing children.

First and fore­most, this is a beautifully-shot film, and the use of colour is often striking. The polit­ical mes­sage, such as it is, seems to ignore Castro com­pletely; instead, it’s a shame­lessly pro-Cuba film, high­lighting both the island’s nat­ural beauty as well as the fierce pride of its people in their cul­tural insti­tu­tions. It’s not sur­prising that music plays a big part in the film.

It’s unclear whether the dir­ector was attempting to make a film aimed solely at chil­dren. There is cer­tainly a sense of naïveté in the dia­logue and the basic struc­ture of the film, and there is never any real danger to these two kids on the run, but the ending seemed par­tic­u­larly grown-up and ambiguous, and made me ree­valuate my ini­tial impres­sions. Some critics have seen the film as an allegory depicting two sides to modern Cuban cul­ture, but I don’t believe the inten­tion was that obvious. I think the film gains res­on­ance from refusing to be overt about its polit­ical opin­ions. Instead, it leaves the viewer to untangle his sym­pathies from the inter­sec­tion of con­flicting desires in a country that is chan­ging, just not fast enough for some.

Note: Film Movement fea­tured this film as their Year 5 Film 5.

8/10(8/10)

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The Sugar Curtain

The Sugar Curtain (Spain/Cuba/France, dir­ector Camila Guzmán Urzúa): Strangely and almost unin­ten­tion­ally apolit­ical, this film is a per­sonal remem­brance of growing up in the 70s and 80s in Cuba. The dir­ector seems to have shot all of the footage her­self, making it more like a home movie. And it’s incred­ibly nos­talgic, with lots of com­par­isons of old photos with the present. But the film’s thesis, if I can use a word that strong, is impossible to prove in this con­text, even if it’s cor­rect. The dir­ector seems to be saying that life in Cuba in her child­hood was good, that Castro’s revolu­tion was achieving pos­itive res­ults and that the end of the Cold War was dis­astrous for Cuba. But this is pretty self-evident. We see a lot of run-down or aban­doned build­ings that were in good repair thirty years ago. We hear inter­views with her class­mates who agree that things aren’t as good any­more. I don’t want to sound facetious, but I could prob­ably make a pretty sim­ilar film about my own childhood.

When she talks to stu­dents at her old high school, about the only priva­tion she can uncover is that they no longer get snacks. In the director’s child­hood, they got chocolate bis­cuits and fizzy drinks. But in a society where the gov­ern­ment provided so much (and still does, com­pared with the rest of the world), these examples seem a bit forced. I’m sure life in Cuba is dif­fi­cult for many, but from the evid­ence of the film, it still seems to be doing pretty well. For a society that has with­stood a trade embargo from the world’s richest nation for more than fifty years, and whose biggest bene­factor cut it off more than fif­teen years ago, it’s doing remark­ably well. Its chil­dren are lit­erate and fed, and it seems to have avoided the extremes of poverty seen in many parts of the Caribbean and Latin America.

Unfortunately, I think the director’s com­plaints are fairly uni­versal. The idealism we feel in our youth turns into dis­il­lu­sion­ment as we age. The forces of glob­al­iz­a­tion and cap­it­alism are affecting Cuba, even as Castro tries to hold them at bay. The fact that the dir­ector and many of her class­mates left Cuba in the 1990s (during the “Special Period” that fol­lowed the end of the Cold War, a time of tre­mendous eco­nomic hard­ship for Cubans) also clouds the pic­ture. How does her memory of Cuba as a socialist para­dise differ from the memories of the anti-Castro crowd in Miami, who remember pre-revolutionary Cuba as a dif­ferent kind of para­dise? Both are unre­li­able and nostalgic.

While the film was enjoy­able as a window into one person’s exper­i­ence, and it was great to see the modern footage of life on the island, overall I found it unsatisfying.

6/10(6/10)

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Final Two Films

by James McNally on September 17, 2000

in Film Festivals,TIFF

My final two films of the film festival:

  • Before Night Falls — Directed by artist Julian Schnabel (who also dir­ected Basquiat), this tells the heart­breaking true story of Cuban writer Reinaldo Arenas, per­se­cuted, imprisoned, and finally allowed to leave Cuba, only to die of AIDS at the age of 47. Beautifully shot, and lov­ingly acted, with cameos from Sean Penn and Johnny Depp. Any bio­graph­ical film that makes me want to run out and find more about the sub­ject is a suc­cess. 8/10
  • Comédie de l’innocence — This one was creepy. A child decides one day that his mother is not his real mother, and takes her to an address where he says his real mother lives, a woman who lost her own child in a drowning acci­dent two years earlier. Very Hitchcockian, espe­cially the music, and left a few loose ends (or maybe I just couldn’t make the con­nec­tions). Excellent under­played per­form­ances, espe­cially by the child, and Isabelle Huppert as his mother. 8/10

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