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A glimpse at Castro's
delusions, Stone's imagination
By Marifeli Perez-Stable,
marifeli.perez_stable@fiu.edu. Posted on
Thu, Apr. 15, 2004 in The
Miami Herald.
Before seeing Looking for Fidel, I was
certain that I'd be angry at Oliver Stone.
Afterward, I was flushed with anger -- but
at Fidel Castro.
Stone is a hard-hitting filmmaker who takes
ample license with history. He came of age
during the 1960s when the Cuban revolution
shone in the eyes of millions and the war
in Vietnam raged on. He still sees Castro
as the great revolutionary who roared.
Four decades later, though, Castro the
dictator has nearly overshadowed the revolutionary
Fidel. What's left is his intermittent charm,
sharp wit and wily intelligence. Critics
of Looking for Fidel, which aired last night
on HBO, and of its earlier version, Comandante
-- yanked by HBO after Cuba's crackdown
against pro-democracy activists and the
summary execution of three hijackers last
spring -- have every right to object to
the interview.
Yes, many viewers who harbor no sympathy
for Castro may be drawn by his engaging
side and may laugh or smile here and there,
which, of course, does not mean that the
documentary has changed their hearts and
minds. What's important is the dramatic
footage of the consummate caudillo in his
twilight years, disingenuously invoking
the constitutional limits on his power and
the ''sense of duty'' that keeps him from
stepping aside in favor of someone younger.
Power inevitably imposes a distance between
those who wield it and the rest of us. If
this is true for freely elected leaders,
it is all the more so in the case of a man
who has ruled unchecked for 45 years.
At the heart of Looking for Fidel is a
most disturbing scene: Eight men who had
been arrested for attempting to hijack a
plane sit in the same room with Castro while
Stone asks them questions. The scene offers
a glimpse into the wretched contours of
Castro's power. He strikes a pose of fairness,
conjures the prospect of U.S. aggression
and tells the men that he and Stone simply
want to understand the ''psychological mechanisms''
that prompted their actions. The prisoners
ascribe economic -- not political -- reasons
to their foiled attempt, accept their culpability
and plead for 30-year sentences instead
of life imprisonment. The helplessness of
the men before the Comandante -- whose mere
presence constitutes psychological despotism
-- sears the heart.
Stone can't possibly take the exchange
at face value. He does, it seems, accept
Castro's context for the crackdown against
the dissidents: the United States' persistent
threat to Cuba's sovereignty. In fact, Washington
provided a facile excuse for repression
last year through its intense outreach to
the pro-democracy movement in the island.
The real context was internal. Since 2000,
the regime has been paralyzed over what
to do about the economy. Most in the leadership
probably favor full-fledged reforms such
as China's or Vietnam's. Castro, however,
is against such gales of capitalism.
Having the United States as backdrop gives
him a pretext to maintain a crisis atmosphere
that cows reformers into line and diverts
sound policymaking.
The reasons why so many Cubans want to
emigrate, therefore, are not so easily pigeonholed.
Castro's politics preempt the creation of
opportunities at home that would likely
allay some of the urgency to leave.
Looking for Fidel is perforce laced with
clips of Castro among the masses. Inevitable,
too, are the flashbacks to a young Fidel.
What a difference 45 years make! The early
scenes are full of life, spontaneity and
hope; the new ones seem rote, tired and
Pavlovian. No doubt, some of the people
in the contemporary shots who clamor ''Fidel!
Fidel!'' are sincere, but there is no way
of knowing. Much of Cuba is a Potemkin village,
and that -- more than any U.S. actions --
is the regime's Achilles' heel.
Maybe Stone thinks that he found Castro.
It doesn't matter. Had the director not
believed in the great revolutionary, Castro
would never have granted him 60 on-camera
hours. That would have mattered. We would
have been deprived of seeing the dictator
in his labyrinth and of having a singular
document that will be of value to historians
long after Castro's passing.
History -- not the one of the Comandante's
delusions nor that of Stone's imagination
-- will not absolve Castro. Unwittingly,
Looking for Fidel doesn't either.
Marifeli Pérez-Stable is a professor
of sociology at Florida International University.
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