By Lorenza Munoz, Times Staff Writer.
Los Angeles Times. Saturday, December 16,
2000
HAVANA--On any weekend night you can find many of Havana's hip
youngsters on the historic malecon, hanging out along the oceanfront walkway,
plotting which rave to go to, arguing about which rap song they like the most,
where on their bodies they should get their next piercing or what shade of
purple they should dye their hair.
Although still somewhat underground, this hipster scene is growing
larger in a communist country led by the same man who came to power more than 40
years ago. So struck was Cecilia Araujo, a 25-year-old cinema student from
Brazil, by the emergence of this youth culture in one of the few communist
countries remaining in the world, that she felt she had to capture it on film.
Her debut effort, "Every Night in Havana Ends at the Malecon,"
screened earlier this week for a group of filmmakers from the Sundance Institute
who were visiting Cuba for the 22nd annual International Festival of New Latin
American Cinema, which ended Friday.
"So many of our friends were a part of this youth culture that we
decided to go out and investigate it," Araujo said after the screening. "It's
still underground, but it's going to explode soon." She likes to think of
the film as "a revelation."
The 13-minute short stars 22-year-old Telma Diaz, who in real life is
the lead singer of a Cuban rap group called Free Hole Negro.
Telma's character, Paloma, and her friends wander Havana searching for
something to do. She longs to sing in a rap or hip-hop group and to be the queen
of the techno scene, but she also is hungry for something bigger. Her dreams
become stagnated as the night goes on, and by dawn, she and her friends are
again looking out over the malecon, dreaming of what lies across the water.
"This film is dedicated to all the young Cubans, who apart from
starring in this movie have their sights on the horizon," the credits say.
"These kids don't want rumba, an indigenous Cuban sound of music,
but rap, or hip-hop. They don't want son, another form of traditional Cuban
music, they want techno. And they don't want to wear guayaberas--a traditional
Cuban shirt, but tank tops and T-shirts. But for now, they are waiting. Waiting
for the 21st century to land in Cuba."
Finding Ways to Express Themselves
Diaz and her group say they are not trying to imitate anything
American--they are proud to be Cuban and inject their own Cubanismos into their
rap and techno mixes. In fact, they have an upcoming album titled "X More"
mixing rap with Cuba's best-known son artist Benny More.
But one thing they do want is to be able to hear more American music.
They want better equipment to mix their music. And they want to be able to say
whatever they please in their music. Although the situation is definitely better
than it was for their parents, in order to express themselves they have to find
a way that doesn't catch the government's eye.
"There are always ways to express yourself without being critical,"
said Lester Martinez, who at 30 is the oldest member of Free Hole Negro. "Look,
Cubans have a way of laughing at our misfortunes."
But just as he said that, Diaz glanced at him and said, "Well, I
don't want to be one of those who dies laughing."
Music and film in young Cuba seem to be areas in which there is a whiff
of openness. An unprecedented number of Cuban hip-hop and rock groups are
performing in Havana. Authorities are allowing the raves to occur, if somewhat
reluctantly.
The International School of Cinema & Television averages 80
students, some from other countries but most from Cuba. They are shooting in
digital format as well as on film, and for the most part say they don't feel the
government intruding on what they have to say. Although no filmmaker has
replaced the late, legendary director Tomas Gutierrez Alea, there is no shortage
of eager students hoping to make their own mark on Cuban film, said Maria Julia
Grillo, academic program director at the school.
"We have lived through some difficult years," at the film
school and Cuba as a whole, Grillo continued, referring to the terrible economic
times known as the "special period" the country faced from 1990 to
1995.
"But things are better," she said.
"At the school, we are seeing a lot of documentaries. These kids
are very interested in documenting the realities in their lives."
The artistic vitality of young Cuba is not lost on Carlos Vera, a
20-year-old Ecuadorean studying film at the Cuban school.
"It's such an interesting country. Although it may be closed
politically, in film they are somewhat free," Vera said. "Cubans still
take great risks saying certain things, but it's more free."
Manuel Tamayo, a native 28-year-old studying to be a producer, agrees
with his classmate.
"There are many themes we can touch--at least delicately, things
can be done," he said. "I think young people are making some very
interesting things. We touch on themes about society, about family and about our
reality."
Still, even Tamayo acknowledged that hard-core subjects such as drug
abuse and prostitution are generally not acceptable. "We still have to
maintain the pretext of being clean," said Tamayo, a striking young man
with thick curly hair, strong cheekbones, heavy eyelashes and dark eyes.
Still, there is a vibrancy among Cuba's youth that surprises some
visitors.
"I've been so amazed by this feeling that these young people are
the future of this country," said Tajamika Paxton, who runs actor Forest
Whitaker's production company, Spirit Dance, in Los Angeles and visited Cuba for
this year's film festival. Paxton spent several nights dancing at raves and was
amazed by their similarity to American techno parties.
"There is a craving in their heart, and they have such vitality.
It's like they know their boundaries but they don't respect that in their
hearts," Paxton said. "They are totally about change, and that kind of
hunger will bring change to this country."
Copyright 2000 Los Angeles Times |