This skillful, soulful film about contemporary life in Havana is shot mostly in closeups, the faces of the people, the hands doing their work, roasting peanuts, lining track. At night some of them go out and participate in nightlife or cultural activities. There's a burst of life in an otherwise lifeless existence. But there's an overwhelming feeling of myopia, the camera seldom pulls back to give a wider view. I took this to parallel the necessary myopia of having to live in a totalitarian state. You don't want to be to aware of the context. There's always the CDR, the spies, the informants ready to report any anti-government activity or conversation. Better concentrate on your work.
A TV is going in one of the houses, a clip of a Fidel rally is playing endlessly, watched by only by a very old woman who may or may not be blind. A large lighted sign over the city reads, REVOLUCION. The letters are faded, the accent on the "o" is burned out. This has to be intentional on the part of the filmmaker. The revolution has failed. Toward the end you see two guys sitting at night in the rain with the statue of John Lennon, the forlorn hopes and dreams for freedom and spontaneity. At the very end waves crashing on the seawall--the world is pushing in, how long can Cuba hold it off?
A TV is going in one of the houses, a clip of a Fidel rally is playing endlessly, watched by only by a very old woman who may or may not be blind. A large lighted sign over the city reads, REVOLUCION. The letters are faded, the accent on the "o" is burned out. This has to be intentional on the part of the filmmaker. The revolution has failed. Toward the end you see two guys sitting at night in the rain with the statue of John Lennon, the forlorn hopes and dreams for freedom and spontaneity. At the very end waves crashing on the seawall--the world is pushing in, how long can Cuba hold it off?