Last week, we watched a film called Suite Havana directed by Fernando Perez. Perez is arguably the most famous Cuban filmmaker, and Suite Habana one of his most famous films. Previous to studying Cuban history last semester, I had no idea that el cine holds such a critical position in Cuban artistic expression. Films such as Fresa y Chocolate and Suite Habana are referenced all the time in casual conversation in almost any context. Near our home in Vedado, there is an entire street dedicated to the film industry and its heroes. The ICAIC (film institute of Cuba) and Chaplin theater are on this street, and it is the epicenter of film and film studies in Cuba. Our group saw Perez’s newest film, La Pared de las Palabras, the first week we were here at the theater here. Needless to say, film is a large part of Cuban popular culture, and is widely consumed by the public.
In this post, I want to focus on the experience of watching Suite Habana as an extranjero in Habana. The premise of Suite Habana is a day I the life of a Cuban living in Habana during the special period. To some extent, it follows a number of real Cubans throughout their days. In my opinion the film aims at a sort of participant observation into the struggles of the special period on the Cuban public. It is deeply personal to Cubans because it is an experience, a deeply difficult and traumatizing experience, that they all lived through. There is a hopeless sentiment to the film that still fills Havana streets today. It was especially interesting to watch as an American student who did not to any extent feel repercussions of the soviet collapse, but now interact with Cubans who did, and still do every day. We were able to sit and watch the film, cry, wipe out eyes and leave the heater, whereas a Cuban seeing the film during the special period could easily be watching scenes comparable to their own lives. I can’t imagine how emotional an experience it would be, but as an American looking in through the glass screen, it reflected our entire experience here. As much as we try to immerse ourselves into Cuba, the glass screen will always be there. The other side of the glass screen is a painful, frustrating revolution that is still playing out. I have been struggling with the space between playing the character of Yuma tourist or Cuban joven. Is there a space in between as a respectful, curious, and genuinely interested student learning about a community completely foreign to them or will we always jut be a group of yumas? Is that a bad thing?