It’s wrong to judge Cuba’s independent cinema the way that independent cinema from First World countries is judged, since totalitarian cultural policies don’t exist in those countries. Even if the funding for a film made in Cuba comes from other countries, having a production credit from the Cuban film institute (Instituto Cubano del Arte e Industria Cinematográficos – ICAIC) or another government institution implies a negotiation, either verbally or internally on the part of the filmmaker, about certain limits on a variety of topics that are taboo in Cuban society. Once the ICAIC awards a filming permit and reviews your script, no matter how many details you change later on, there are many issues you will not be able to address head-on since the project was incubated in a negotiated environment. 

Within this context, there are filmmakers with greater or smaller margins of independence. In my case, none of the feature-length films I’ve made in Cuba would have been possible if I hadn’t had total independence. This is why I think independent cinema is defined by its independence in content and form; it seeks out the most uncomfortable areas of a society, not just on a political level but a human one. The source of financing is irrelevant.

When it comes to Cuban cinema in the diaspora, it’s a controversial topic. For example, I don’t consider my first feature-length film, Cucarachas rojas (Red Cockroaches) (2003), to be a Cuban film. There is nothing Cuban about the themes or the characters. Of course, the production company, Producciones Pirámide, is based in Cuba and its entire technical team is made up of Cubans, but only in an abstract sense. My production company has never been a recognized legal entity in Cuba, nor anywhere in the world. Personally, I consider it more of an American film, the proof being that, even after twenty years, its largest audience is located in the United States and not among people of Cuban origin. 

After making Cucarachas rojas in the United States, something curious happened to me when I began filming Memorias del desarrollo (Memories of Overdevelopment) in 2005. I felt that a film critiquing the Cuban government had to be made on the Island, which is where I filmed the scenes that happened in Cuba (clandestinely, the same way I have always filmed scenes anywhere in the world). 

During the process of working on Memorias, I began to discover the Island could be a setting for absurd situations. I began to feel a force beating inside me and pushing me toward taboo topics, toward the most uncomfortable areas of society. This is why I had to make Corazón azul (Blue Heart) and Nadie (Nobody) in Cuba; it wouldn’t sit right with me if I had approached these topics from a comfort zone. This should not be confused with a sense of nationalism or 19th-century-style patriotism. Cuba is simply a setting that I know well and where I felt I could explore a number of dark corners. Furthermore, this would have been impossible to do from a distance. 

Corazón azul was filmed in Matanzas, Cienfuegos, and several Havana neighborhoods (Centro Habana, Habana Vieja, Playa, Lawton, Habana del Este…). The film’s visual range would have been extremely limited had I tried to reproduce the Island somewhere else, and the challenge of filming there gave rise to unpredictable dynamics and an obstacle-filled context that also ended up influencing the plot.

I’m not of the opinion that Cuban cinema has to be independent nor political in order to be valid. I think the most important thing about a film is the sensory experience it uses to transmit its contents. The “how it got made” is only important when you’re teaching a class. 

Neither do I believe that all Cuban films must be made on the Island. In fact, at some point I’d like to make a film in another country again. I’d like to tell a story completely divorced from the Island, and not about a Cuban émigré or exile. I touched on this topic in Memorias del desarrollo, but I have a sense that I’ll always go back to it.

Miguel Coyula is one of the most unique voices in independent Cuban cinema in the digital era that dawned in the 21st century. His feature-length films include  Cucarachas rojas (Red Cockroaches) (2003), Memorias del desarrollo (Memories of Overdevelopment) (2010), Nadie (Nobody) (2017), and Corazón azul (Blue Heart) (2021). He is the author of the novels  Mar rojo, mal azul (Red Sea, Blue Sea) (2013) and La isla vertical (The Vertical Island) (2022). Although he lives in Havana, his films are not shown in public in Cuba, and he is not invited to events organized by any government institutions.