Migration as fairy tale (Review of "Viva Cuba")

Political repression has always been accompanied by migration. The two are inextricably tied together, and understandably there is always an economic dimension as well. Political groups that are banned or outlawed are cut off from institutional support, and thus, are forced to scramble In circumstances that are already quite difficult. I am thinking, of course, of cases such as North Korea, which is once again in the news with threats directed against its neighbors to the south and east, and to Cuba.

Migration from Cuba has been an ongoing response not only to economic uncertainty but also to political repression. Cuba has been undergoing what would seem to be a long-overdue transformation, and there has supposedly been an opening up of the economy. Market reforms are being introduced, and while this has the potential of being destabilizing, it might in the long run insure the survival of the current political regime.

North Korea is another matter. The news stories seem always to highlight the results of repression and mismanagement, and there were stories recently of supposed cases of cannibalism in the face of a renewed, hidden famine. The new leader, Kim Jung Il, seems ready to follow the lines of his father, and to engage in exercises in bellicosity while maintaining a secretive power structure and a closed society. Were those borders to open up, one wonders how many millions might pour out of North Korea. It is a prospect that supposedly alarms China, their one last ally.

Recently I had a chance to see the 2005 film “Viva Cuba”. The dynamics of migration are featured in this film, but in an underhanded way. One of the positive reviews highlights that this work supposedly “depoliticizes” the phenomenon of migration, but it certainly doesn’t lend any more clarity to the issue.

The film details the exploits of two children, Jorgito and Malú, who are about to be separated. It seems that Malú’s mother has married a foreigner in a bid to escape the island, and that she now has the perfect opportunity to enact this plan when her mother dies. One wonders at the dynamics of families that are, as ever, on the verge of separation, with adults who seem unable to get along.

The contrasts between the families are drawn in broad strokes. Jorgito’s family are stalwarts of the revolution, with photos of the revered leader, Fidel, in their house. Malú’s mom, on the contrary, seems to despise the revolution, and considers herself to be part of the hidden and aspiring middle classes. This leads to comical contrasts, but ones which are, as ever, too broad and easy to be really enjoyable. A little more subtlety would have been appreciated.

It seems as if the children have grown attached to each other, and they represent the two halves of Cuban society, waiting for what should be a natural reconciliation. The kids don’t want to be separated, as would happen if Malú’s mother succeeds in her plan to leave the island and take her daughter. And so, they embark on a quest to find the girl’s father, inform him of the situation, and hopefully prevent this separation.

The journey is filled with mishaps, but also, with adventure and magic. I appreciated the views of this Cuban landscape that seems almost too idealized. I say this because it almost seems like a middle-class vision, with little exploration of the restrictions and hardships involved in having to deal with a faltering economy that is being refashioned. Now, this is not to say that the children don’t experience hunger, or that they don’t fall sick, or that they don’t experience fear. They do, in episodes that recapitulate fairy tales, such as Hansel and Gretel (in their encounter with a blind woman in the forest who puts food out on the window sill, then hopes to imprison them) or the Little Red Riding Hood singing episode, but this is very much a children’s point of view. We don’t see the shortages and the grinding poverty that afflicts so many adults, the need to scrape while also trying to preserve a little bit of dignity.

This film seems like a wild caper that is very innocent, and in that way, deflects consideration from the true dynamics and consequences of migration. The children are, supposedly, meant to be together, and their loyalty to each other is touching, but this is ultimately an exercise in escapism that fundamentally tries to present an idealized Cuban landscape. Even the old icons are reaffirmed, as in the sequence at the end where the children encounter a bearded young man in the forest, one who takes them in and helps in their “subversive” plan to evade detection by the authorities so that they can reach Malu’s father who lives in a lighthouse on the other end of the island. The young bearded man furthermore rides a bicycle, and the comparison is inevitable to the film “The Motorcycle Diary” which details the voyage of Che Guevara as a young man through South America before he joined the Cuban revolution.

Perhaps we could all use a little more escapism. This film is certainly a far cry from the films of Tomás Gutiérrez Alea that were released in the 60s, films such as “Memorias del subdesarrollo” that were such seminal works in dealing with the psychological and social impact of revolution. Those films were instant classics, and they linger in my mind and memory as testaments to the Latin American condition, if it could be said that there is such a thing. They capture transformation and desire, but also, despair and anxiety.

Now we have films that present innocent capers by children in the form of modern day fairy tales, dressed up in modern clothing. This one also addresses a crumbling society, but there is no excitement that is implicit in the idea of a grand revolutionary project. It is, instead, perhaps a nostalgic view, and nostalgia also is an exercise in idealism. It creates its subject, because memory is also creation anew. We will never recapture the past as it was, because our vantage points have changed, as have our needs.

The film, this, is a little unfulfilling for me. The ending is meant to be somewhat poetic, and I won’t describe it here, but is also strikes me as enigmatic, because it leaves the two children as abandoned as they ever were. Their viewpoint is, as ever, limited and characterized by excessive sentimentality. And the acting seems at times too over-the-top. But the film does provide a view of how a modern day Cuban director has left behind the legacy of Alea to produce what are hopefully more commercially-accessible films. I’m just not sure that this approach will be any more successful in bridging the divisions that characterize Cuban society.

 

Viva Cuba is a 2005 Cuban film, directed by Juan Carlos Cremata and Iraida Malberti Cabrera, and written by Cremata and Manolito Rodriguez


Eternal Observer -- ORomero (c) 2013
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