{"id":15436,"date":"2024-11-01T05:56:24","date_gmt":"2024-11-01T05:56:24","guid":{"rendered":"https:\/\/festivaldecineinstar.com\/?p=15436"},"modified":"2024-11-01T05:58:57","modified_gmt":"2024-11-01T05:58:57","slug":"we-were-better-off-against-the-icaic-magazine-2024","status":"publish","type":"post","link":"https:\/\/festivaldecineinstar.com\/en\/notas\/we-were-better-off-against-the-icaic-magazine-2024\/","title":{"rendered":"We were better off against the ICAIC. MAGAZINE 2024"},"content":{"rendered":"\t\t
\n\t\t\t\t
\n\t\t\t\t\t
\n\t\t\t\t
\n\t\t\t\t
\n\t\t\t\t\t\t\t
\n\t\t\t
<\/div>\n\t\t<\/div>\n\t\t\t\t\t\t<\/div>\n\t\t\t\t<\/div>\n\t\t\t\t\t<\/div>\n\t\t\t\t<\/div>\n\t\t
\n\t\t\t\t\t
\n\t\t\t\t
\n\t\t\t\t
\n\t\t\t\t\t

\u201cWe were better off against the ICAIC.\u201d \nA Brief and Imagined Categorical Map of Recent Cuban Cinema\n<\/h2>\t\t\t\t<\/div>\n\t\t\t\t<\/div>\n\t\t\t\t\t<\/div>\n\t\t\t\t<\/div>\n\t\t
\n\t\t\t\t\t
\n\t\t\t\t
\n\t\t\t\t
\n\t\t\t\t\t\t\t\t\t

By Walfrido Dorta<\/span><\/p>\t\t\t\t\t\t\t\t<\/div>\n\t\t\t\t<\/div>\n\t\t\t\t\t<\/div>\n\t\t\t\t<\/div>\n\t\t

\n\t\t\t\t\t
\n\t\t\t\t
\n\t\t\t\t
\n\t\t\t\t\t\t\t\t\t\t\t\t
\n\t\t\t\t\t\t\t\t\t\t\"\"\t\t\t\t\t\t\t\t\t\t\t
Still from Mafifa<\/figcaption>\n\t\t\t\t\t\t\t\t\t\t<\/figure>\n\t\t\t\t\t\t\t\t\t<\/div>\n\t\t\t\t<\/div>\n\t\t\t\t\t<\/div>\n\t\t\t\t<\/div>\n\t\t
\n\t\t\t\t\t
\n\t\t\t\t
\n\t\t\t\t
\n\t\t\t\t\t\t\t
\n\t\t\t
<\/div>\n\t\t<\/div>\n\t\t\t\t\t\t<\/div>\n\t\t\t\t<\/div>\n\t\t\t\t\t<\/div>\n\t\t\t\t<\/div>\n\t\t
\n\t\t\t\t\t
\n\t\t\t\t
\n\t\t\t\t
\n\t\t\t\t\t\t\t\t\t

The sentence that serves as the first part of the title of this text is (almost) obviously ironic (it’s a distortion of what Manuel V\u00e1zquez Montalb\u00e1n said about Francoism). The quote cannot be attributed to any filmmaker or film critic, but we can imagine a moment in which it might be said. It is a hypothetical moment (less and less far off into the future) when we will be overcome with nostalgia for the full and straightforward existence of an enemy to oppose and create discourses against; an adversary that guarantees heroic feats and provokes partisan narratives. An antagonist like this also provides readily accessible dichotomies to organize the reception of film-related discourses (institutional cinema <\/span>vs.<\/span><\/i> independent cinema; national cinema <\/span>vs.<\/span><\/i> diasporic cinema, among others) that give us the peace of mind that everything is in its place, on one side or the other of the political, cultural, and imaginative spectrum. Many Cuban films have been made with the internalization of these dichotomies as a starting point. The circumstantial need to internalize these extremes and to produce partisan narratives cannot be denied; it would mean ignoring a certain historic and symbolic “truth.” But we can certainly desire and imagine a landscape in which these dichotomies are less and less useful for giving an account of the state of Cuban cinema. Such a landscape can be imagined and desired right now, thanks to narratives, imaginaries, latencies, and glimpses of it.<\/span><\/p>\n

While certain dichotomies could continue to be of use (as long as examples can be found of films that fit on one side or the other of these extremes) and facilitate the construction of a critical discourse, ideally the Cuban cinematic imagination and the criticism that analyzes it would detach themselves from these dichotomies and fly their proverbial coop. It is not that leaving dichotomies aside will eliminate the circumstances that led to them (the hegemony of the Cuban film institute [Instituto Cubano del Arte e Industria Cinematogr\u00e1ficos – ICAIC]; censorship; punitive laws and regulations; laws that offer a certain air of openness and aim to guarantee financial support while screening for ideological compatibility; etc.); rather, it is that these circumstances have been substantially and rapidly changing in recent years. The symbolic institutional capital of the ICAIC is in a state of utter crisis, as many have argued. The migration of the majority of young Cuban filmmakers is ongoing and expanding. The lack of public spaces to show Cuban films is acute. The symbolic and physical places where film-related discourses are produced have multiplied along with the imaginaries of these films, bursting through the seams of the dichotomies.<\/span><\/p>\n

I agree with the assessments of Dean Luis Reyes and \u00c1ngel P\u00e9rez, two of the most notable critics of recent Cuban cinema. Reyes has pointed out that it is “a cinema that would like to spend less time obsessing over the intellectual elite in order to offer a concept of a nation” and, instead, “produces personal poetics, films that are small but intensely focused on self-expression and experimenting with language.” He asserts that it is a cinema that is transnational, delocalized, diverse, and nomadic, from a referential and ideological point of view. [1] P\u00e9rez has maintained that the Cuban directors in the 21st century “operate with the idea that film is an incarnation of their own truth.” [2] <\/span><\/p>\n

I salute the desires of a filmmaker like Carlos Am\u00edlcar Meli\u00e1n, [3] director of the unsettling <\/span>El rodeo (The Rodeo)<\/span><\/i> (2020) as well as writer of the no less unsettling <\/span>Tundra <\/span><\/i>(2021), directed by Jos\u00e9 Luis Aparicio, and the excellent documentary <\/span>Mafifa<\/span><\/i> (2021), directed by Daniela Mu\u00f1oz Barroso. They are difficult and challenging desires: “I’m looking for something with a complexity that is not dependent on nor an accessory to the theater of Cuban political operations” and that does not have “a high degree of thematic dependence on [Cuba’s] political legacy.” Meli\u00e1n says that the films made by his colleagues Aparicio, Mu\u00f1oz Barroso, and Carlos Quintela are born out of “the dribbles from the Cuban authorities’ field of influence.” <\/span><\/p>\n

As part of this desired landscape, which is becoming more of a reality rather than a mirage, seeking broader distribution of this type of cinema will be necessary. Cuban filmmakers should mobilize so that their work is accessible to a wider audience. To create an audience beyond a handful of interested academics and critics, we have to multiply the channels where people can access these films. I am fully aware of the need to earn back the financial investment required to make a film, especially when it is not a commercial one. I am also aware of the timelines and agreements required for showing films outside of festivals, but today there is rapid access to audiovisual materials. The average viewer’s audiovisual consumption memory is very short because they are constantly bombarded by offerings. This day in age, the number of recent Cuban films available via streaming services (at least in the United States) is negligible. There is no reasonable explanation for having to wait to see a film made in 2021 or 2022, for example. Under current conditions, the audience for these films is rather small; it is often limited, as I said before, to critics and academics, who make up an important but very small-scale audience.<\/span><\/p>\n

I would like to imagine this categorical map of recent Cuban cinema as an exercise that helps to dismantle the dichotomous topography. It is brief and accidental, because it comes out of an inspection of the films that is itself accidental.  It is provisional, because it is as transitory as the cinema of which it speaks. It is modular and has moving parts, like an imaginary Erector set.<\/span><\/p>\n