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Review:
Another epic “art film” is Before Night Falls
(2000, from Fine Line Features), a biography of Cuban novelist Reinaldo Arenas, as played by Javier Bardem,
directed by Julian Schnabel. The story
would fit any libertarian or more progressive conservative’s dream of freedom
as it chronicles the descent of Cuba
in Communism, with Arenas’s escape from it. Arenas builds his career as a writer
shortly after Castro, and in the beginning has surprising freedom to follow
his instincts—both literary and homosexual--until left-wing mentality closes
in upon him. The government sets up a
trumped up charge of “pedophilia” (it believes the accusations of a teenage
boy thief), but its real “reason” for entrapping Arenas may have been his
publishing one of his novels in France without permission from the “official”
writers’ union. The ideological explanations
are simple. “People who make art are
dangerous to any dictatorship” Think
about it. Totalitarian
governments—even those predicated on the pretense of “social justice” or
egalitarianism—have a vested interest in “licensing” speech through “the
people.” Russian composer Dmitri Shostakovich would discover the same thing. I
guess, if I lived in Cuba
I would be thrown into prison for self-publishing Do Ask, Do Tell.
The
historical élan has the proper sweep of a big film, and Arenas’s
vigorous character, carrying through the prison escape and then 1980 boat
flotilla, give the film a rooting interest.
The scene where he demonstrates his claim of homosexuality when
emigrating by pretending to satisfy a heterosexual fantasy of homosexuality
is particularly cute. The music score
engages Hispanic rhythms in the style of Buena Vista Social Club or
even Touch of Evil. But in one
scene, where the government is just starting to “crack down,” the music turns
dead serious, with the Adagietto of Mahler’s 5th.
A
seemingly more lightweight treatment of Cuba is offered by Dirty Dancing: Havana
Nights (Lions Gate; Miramax; Artisan, 2004, PG-13, 87 Min), which sounds
first of all like a tortuously contrived title. (The film is a prequel to a
1987 film “Dirty Dancing” with Patrick Swayse and
Jennifer Gray.) The setting is during the Christmas season in Havana in 1958, when an American family is living
on the luxury Havana beachfront, and teenager Jane (Romola Garai) has befriended local street dancer Javier (Diego
Luna). Here Patrick Swayse plays the hotel dance
instructor, Johnny. These are the days just before the fall of Batista for
Castro. Working class Cubans don’t look that bad off in capitalist pre-Castro
Cuba, but they look forward to “freedom,” and
the emerging love between Javier and Jane takes on the character of a Romeo
and Juliet story. Of course, for an audience that “knows,” the political
subtext is shattering. In less than four years, Fidel Castro will have hosted
the Cuban Missile Crisis, and the living standards in Cuba will be horrible
for a half century. Without that knowledge, the screenplay seems a bit dizzy
and light. There are scenes that are out of place, such as putting ornaments
on a Christmas tree after Christmas day.
The scene involving class conflict between well-to-do white Americans,
and Cuban families, and their “blood loyalties,” however, have some impact.
But, then, there
is also the dirty dancing itself. Today the intimate body explorations during
disco (the tee-shirt lift offs, unbuttonings, and
touching lower) dancing (to disco music rather than Latin—I’ve even heard the
“Rendez-Vous” from the animated The Triplets of
Belleville adapted to disco) are well known in gay venues—I like the
Cobalt and Velvet Nation in Washington, DC or the Saloon in Minneapolis, or
Village Station in Dallas. Sometimes this is called “break dancing” although
that term also belongs to specialized styles of athletic oriental
dancing. Javier will teach Jane the
dirty dancing, and Jane will reciprocate with some ballroom style, which
brings me back to the Singles Social Club in Arlington in 1971, when a chain-smoking dance floor
owner offered a package of dancing lessons (Fox Trot, Rimba)
for $80. The dancing in the film is a
bit on the gentle side, even during the competitions. I’ve seen some pretty
great movements (in terms of what judges would like) at the Saloon.
Dirty Dancing (1987, Artisan/Vestron,
dir. Emile Ardolino, PG-13, 100 min) is an innocent
enough film about “Baby” falling in love with her vacation camp’s (male) dance
teacher (Patrick Swayse). Nevertheless, the term
then was already referring to a style of very intimate yet athletic dancing
popular in gay discos, with plenty of chest and other teasing. Sometimes it
is called “break dancing” although that often refers to specific tumbling
stunts in dancing.
The Lost City
(2005, Magnolia/Cineson, dir. Andy Garcia, 143 min,
R) effectively pits family loyalty against larger views (however flawed) of
social justice. In 1958, a wealthy family in Havana
contemplates its future, as its patriarch tries to reaffirm the loyalty of
his sons, one of whom, Fico (Andy Garcia) runs a nightclub. The storm clouds
of revolution against Batista’s right-wing regime are gathering, and one of
the sons, to the horror of his father’s sense of family legacy, makes a plea
for justice. There is discussion whether democracy can come before revolution, and fear of the redistribution of wealth by
force. There are conversations to the effect that there
friends and enemies, but no acquaintances. The son participates in a
palace attack that resembles a similar scene in Saigon in The Killing Fields,
and is killed; another son is taken prisoner. All of these “commie pinko”
will soon happen in Cuba.
Shortly after New Year’s, 1959, Batista is driven from power and Castro takes
over. Soon the commies invade the nightclub, and make demands. The “Union”
owns the orchestra and can no longer use the saxophone, because it was
invented by a Belgian, and the Belgians are enemies of the people in the Congo.
The family is grasping the indignation of the extreme Left, which regards
family as a way to transmit unearned wealth, and views the rich and
propertied people as parasites on the workers. Their wealth must be
confiscated. One authoritarian regime is replaced by another, as is so often
the case. Fico will leave, but have most of his personal effects confiscated
before he can leave. He arrives in New York
with no money, but his friends, including “The Writer” Bill Murray (who
lounges around, despite coat and tie, in shorts revealing his hairless legs),
will follow and help him re-establish the club in under freedom. At the end,
Fico says he is no longer loyal to a lost cause, but he loyal to his Lost
City (Havana). Dustin Hoffman also stars in another example of a politically
charged film with a veteran all star cast using independent production and
financing.
The
Silly Age (“La edad de la peseto:, Mediapro, dir. Pavel Giroud, wr. Arturo Infante, Cuba,
90 min) is a fable set in Cuba
just before Castro takes over. A boy Samuel (Ivan Carreria)
lives with his demanding grandmother (Mercedes Sarnpietro),
whose kitchen cupboard is like a fairytale kingdom, and has to work off a
debt for breaking dishes. He sees all kinds of wondrous things (like a card
with a cat on a human’s body) and makes love to a doll while real people make
love in the next room. Black and white shots are shown of the revolution,
which comes and ends their “privileged” lives with “the purification”. Filmed
in Venezuela.
The Agronomist (2004, ThinkFilm, dir.
Jonathan Demme, 90 min) is a documentary of
agricultural scientist and radio journalist Jean Dominique in Haiti,
up to his assassination in April 2000. Both Jean and his wife are interviewed
separately (with the interviews of Jean obviously older). The political
history of Haiti
goes back to the Carter use through various coups and incidents. The original
classification of Haitians as an AIDS risk group is not mentioned. This is
plenty of discussion of how dangerous journalism can be in unstable or
authoritarian countries.
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