Cigars and Cinema Films that open a new dialogue about Cuba
An elderly woman returns home to her childhood sweetheart after fifty years, vowing her undying love with a fiery zeal—then promptly, and somewhat hilariously, dies. A student rebel holds a white dove in his hands, walking ceremoniously through the streets of Havana as a crowd of thousands gathers behind him. Different images? Very. And yet both are examples of Cuban cinema.
To celebrate the 50th anniversary of the revolution in Cuba, the IFCCenter has launched a weekend series of films, “After the Revolution: Cuba on Screen,” showcasing some of the best works of both Cuban cinema and international cinema focusing on Cuba. Films included run the gamut from poetic to satirical. These films, coinciding with the release of Steven Soderbergh’s two-part Che, introduce us to a Cuba that can no longer be ignored, drawing back the veil that kept Cuba hidden from the general public’s eye for so long.
It would be an understatement to say that Cuban-American relations since the revolution in 1958 have remained tense—famed exploding cigars and the Bay of Pigs invasion come to mind. Yet in recent years, there has been a resurgence of interest in Che Guevara and Fidel Castro, particularly in recent films like 2004’s The Motorcycle Diaries—not to mention that dumb kid on your floor with the Che t-shirt. Continuing this trend, the IFCCenter’s series brings to light a Cuba of prolific creativity rather than the threatening and oppressive Cuba of American legend.
Columbia’s Professor Richard Peña emphasizes the diversity on display, saying, “Cuban films have addressed issues such as sexism, homophobia, class prejudice, racism and other topics in a perceptive, provocative manner ... People interested in seeing how art might deal with such issues in a meaningful way should be inspired by Cuban cinema.”
This weekend’s choice is a Cuban-Soviet collaboration from 1964: Soy Cuba (I am Cuba), a cinematographic marvel that film critic J. Hoberman called “a Bolshevik hallucination.” Directed by Mikhail Kalatozov and with a script by famed Russian poet Yevgeny Yevtushenko, Soy Cuba is probably one of the most poetic works of propaganda ever. It describes the state of Cuba during the days leading up to the revolution, using four beautifully-shot vignettes to spin a tale about the lives of four selfless working-class citizens oppressed by the nationalist (and Americanized) regime. At its release, Cuban and Soviet officials considered Soy Cuba to be “ineffective propaganda” and the film was barely released. Soy Cuba remained relatively unknown until the 1990s, when Francis Ford Coppola and Martin Scorsese rediscovered it. Though clearly glorifying communism, it is also both an enticing tale and a marvel of filmmaking. The acrobatic camera and clear black-and-white footage of endless cane sugar plantations, fires, and sweeping shots of the city are impressive even by today’s standards.
An American film, Julian Schnabel’s Before Night Falls, gives an alternate perspective on Cuba in the 20thexplores the life of the openly homosexual Cuban poet and novelist Reinaldo Arenas. Its stance toward Cuba is more critical than the others selected by the IFC—Arenas finds his work and life in danger due to his writing. He is judged dangerous by the government for living a lifestyle that the Cuban leaders condemn. century. Released in 2001 and starring Javier Bardem, the film explores the life of the openly homosexual Cuban poet and novelist Reinaldo Arenas. Its stance toward Cuba is more critical than the others selected by the IFC—Arenas finds his work and life in danger due to his writing. He is judged dangerous by the government for living a lifestyle that the Cuban leaders condemn.
The dreamlike film puts panoramic shots of nature in the forefront and combines them with Bardem’s voiceover narration. Before Night Falls is a film about sexual and political revolutions: it begins with Arenas as a preteen during the 1958 revolution, which he initially supports, and follows with his personal sexual liberation. Linking sex to poetry, Arenas grows to detest and fear a government that equates homosexuality to capitalism and mental retardation—a story both fascinating and difficult to stomach.
Not all of the films are quite so serious: Guantanamera, a Cuban film from 1995, is a dark comedy that is as ridiculous and bizarre as it is moving. Directed by Alea and Tabío, Guantanamera is a satire about love, death, and Cuban society in the 1990s. An aunt visits her niece in Guantanamo, who is trapped in a loveless marriage, and then suddenly drops dead. The family must then make an absurd journey to Havana to bury her. On the way, the funeral procession encounters a few truckers, and hilarity ensues. Not just another romantic comedy, Guantanamera is at times a full-out critique of the communist system: the woman’s husband comes to represent the bureaucratic and stubbornly patriotic status quo. This film proves that critiques of Cuba can also come from within.
It might seem surprising that such a film was released in Cuba at all. But by showing films like Guantanamera that continuously defy our expectations, the IFC is portraying the many facets of Cuba lost to the American public. It’s a far cry from the closed-minded contempt or radical idealization (à la Michael Moore in Sicko) with which Cuba is usually treated. Perhaps now in the 21st century, we are finally ready to start seeing Cuba in different ways
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