← Back to Reviews
in
Fresh off the heels of the revolution, Soy Cuba recounts pre-revolutionary Cuba. It was also directed by Mikhail Kalatozov, an acclaimed Soviet filmmaker at the time known for beautiful cinematographic achievements in movies such as Letter Never Sent and The Cranes are Flying. Unsurprisingly, Soy Cuba is both marred by its affiliations and upheld as a classic of arthouse cinema. It’d no doubt garner polarizing views from international viewers.
There are some beautiful sweeping shots of scarcely-populated rural Cuba in the beginning. These are accommodated by minimal culture-savvy folk music and a soothing voiceover. This tranquility is unceremoniously interrupted by a noisy, populated scene showcasing the lively pizazz of urban life. There’s prevalent joy all around; swimming, dancing, singing, cheering, and drinking. The movie goes out of its way to juxtapose the two sides of Cuba: urban and rural, or rich and poor. The movie also refers to the path of the star (sacrificial unity) and the path of slavery (forgoing freedom). They are often at a crossroads with each other. They show life out of balance; the major catalyst for the revolution. The rural parts are my favorite. It’s so interesting to look at a modest way of life that’s seldom presented as considerately as it is here. It shows both backbreaking labor and untainted friendliness.
The Americans are made out to be unkind stereotypical caricatures of sleazy rich folk feeding off the land’s luxuries and terrorizing the locals. The revolutionaries are made out to be extremely passionate subversives sacrificing themselves for the greater good. They’re also the only ones that show any remorse for violence. Their impetus is, ironically, propagandized news and violent tyranny. The most over the top instance has the be the authorities mercilessly gunning down a little birdie that the revolutionaries then hold up as a bastion of innocence. It’s the event that somehow finally unites a crowd against the police state. So, if gunning down people wasn’t enough, I guess a line was crossed at bird.
The narrator is the voice of Cuba, or the vicarious sentiment of the oppressed. The whole movie is an ardent attempt to make the viewer understand why one would be driven to fight. An almost overdramatically sympathetic farmer is forced off his land by bigwig capitalists that the movie wants us to disdain. The movie ends with beautiful rural Cuba being bombarded, while men are driven out of their serenity to take up arms. “Do not fear a glorious death. To die for your motherland is to live.” This finalizing message inevitably calls attention to the movie’s Soviet influence (co-produced by Mosfilm in the credits; the USSR’s film industry).
This movie attempts to capture the essence of Cuba’s cultural zeitgeist through its music, settings, and passionate characters. It’s a testament to the natural and popular splendor of Cuba. There’s a notably odd and ambitious use of cinematography. There are many experimental tracking shots, tilted shots, and shots positioned at unusual angles. Maybe some could see this as a way of capturing an underlying tone, but I think they’re just artsy flourishes that give the movie a unique panache (this is also suggested by some of Kalatazov’s other movies). There’s also an occasional dreamlike, surreal blur given to some of the more distressing bits. I do think that this is intended to make the tumult more unnerving (and it does).
The characterizations of Americans are what you can expect from a narrative driven by political zeal of the time. The movie was made as rallying cry for socialism. It’s a result of the then recently fought revolution, when the fervor was still at its height. Thus, it bastardizes any perceived philosophical opponents of its rose-colored idealism. It’s an easy target for criticism, though some heralded Western Bloc movies of the cold war are guilty of propagandized history too (such as I Married a Communist, Red Dawn, Rocky IV, etc.). Regardless, Soy Cuba carries historical significance for its adept depiction of alternative views, much like the Soviets’ Battleship Potemkin. Being only several decades old, the commentary is still relevant too. Especially considering Fidel Castro’s recent death and the US’s recently mitigated trade embargo on Cuba. The Cuban revolution piggy-backed off a string of Latin American socialist insurgencies opposing the Western Bloc, and is a polarizing topic to this day. Even if you hate the message, it’s fascinating to see a key example of socialism (at the height of the cold war) in such an artistic format. Typically, propaganda films are of a lesser ilk, but the merit of this lends credence to the content. It’s a marvel. Such a gorgeous presentation of Cuba.
Soy Cuba (1964)
Fresh off the heels of the revolution, Soy Cuba recounts pre-revolutionary Cuba. It was also directed by Mikhail Kalatozov, an acclaimed Soviet filmmaker at the time known for beautiful cinematographic achievements in movies such as Letter Never Sent and The Cranes are Flying. Unsurprisingly, Soy Cuba is both marred by its affiliations and upheld as a classic of arthouse cinema. It’d no doubt garner polarizing views from international viewers.
There are some beautiful sweeping shots of scarcely-populated rural Cuba in the beginning. These are accommodated by minimal culture-savvy folk music and a soothing voiceover. This tranquility is unceremoniously interrupted by a noisy, populated scene showcasing the lively pizazz of urban life. There’s prevalent joy all around; swimming, dancing, singing, cheering, and drinking. The movie goes out of its way to juxtapose the two sides of Cuba: urban and rural, or rich and poor. The movie also refers to the path of the star (sacrificial unity) and the path of slavery (forgoing freedom). They are often at a crossroads with each other. They show life out of balance; the major catalyst for the revolution. The rural parts are my favorite. It’s so interesting to look at a modest way of life that’s seldom presented as considerately as it is here. It shows both backbreaking labor and untainted friendliness.
The Americans are made out to be unkind stereotypical caricatures of sleazy rich folk feeding off the land’s luxuries and terrorizing the locals. The revolutionaries are made out to be extremely passionate subversives sacrificing themselves for the greater good. They’re also the only ones that show any remorse for violence. Their impetus is, ironically, propagandized news and violent tyranny. The most over the top instance has the be the authorities mercilessly gunning down a little birdie that the revolutionaries then hold up as a bastion of innocence. It’s the event that somehow finally unites a crowd against the police state. So, if gunning down people wasn’t enough, I guess a line was crossed at bird.
The narrator is the voice of Cuba, or the vicarious sentiment of the oppressed. The whole movie is an ardent attempt to make the viewer understand why one would be driven to fight. An almost overdramatically sympathetic farmer is forced off his land by bigwig capitalists that the movie wants us to disdain. The movie ends with beautiful rural Cuba being bombarded, while men are driven out of their serenity to take up arms. “Do not fear a glorious death. To die for your motherland is to live.” This finalizing message inevitably calls attention to the movie’s Soviet influence (co-produced by Mosfilm in the credits; the USSR’s film industry).
This movie attempts to capture the essence of Cuba’s cultural zeitgeist through its music, settings, and passionate characters. It’s a testament to the natural and popular splendor of Cuba. There’s a notably odd and ambitious use of cinematography. There are many experimental tracking shots, tilted shots, and shots positioned at unusual angles. Maybe some could see this as a way of capturing an underlying tone, but I think they’re just artsy flourishes that give the movie a unique panache (this is also suggested by some of Kalatazov’s other movies). There’s also an occasional dreamlike, surreal blur given to some of the more distressing bits. I do think that this is intended to make the tumult more unnerving (and it does).
The characterizations of Americans are what you can expect from a narrative driven by political zeal of the time. The movie was made as rallying cry for socialism. It’s a result of the then recently fought revolution, when the fervor was still at its height. Thus, it bastardizes any perceived philosophical opponents of its rose-colored idealism. It’s an easy target for criticism, though some heralded Western Bloc movies of the cold war are guilty of propagandized history too (such as I Married a Communist, Red Dawn, Rocky IV, etc.). Regardless, Soy Cuba carries historical significance for its adept depiction of alternative views, much like the Soviets’ Battleship Potemkin. Being only several decades old, the commentary is still relevant too. Especially considering Fidel Castro’s recent death and the US’s recently mitigated trade embargo on Cuba. The Cuban revolution piggy-backed off a string of Latin American socialist insurgencies opposing the Western Bloc, and is a polarizing topic to this day. Even if you hate the message, it’s fascinating to see a key example of socialism (at the height of the cold war) in such an artistic format. Typically, propaganda films are of a lesser ilk, but the merit of this lends credence to the content. It’s a marvel. Such a gorgeous presentation of Cuba.