Movies | Politics
Soy Cuba: Profoundly Poetic Propaganda
Mikhail Kalatozov’s Soy Cuba (I Am Cuba) is a communist propaganda film that depicts Cuba’s dramatic transition from a US-influenced dictatorship to a communist nation. It starts off by outlining the massive atrocities committed by the US-backed Fulgencio Batista’s autocratic rule on the island, then swiftly transforms from dramatic propaganda into art in a style that unavoidably draws to mind Sergei Eisenstein’s work. The inventive cinematography of Sergey Urusevsky and the genius of Kalatozov enhance the entire picture. They build an image of Cuba driven by jazzy rhythms, the heroism of the revolution, and its aftermath, formally expressing the rebellion via a reconstruction of island life.
Despite the film being a propaganda piece, it’s still one of the most profoundly poetic works of a generation. It speaks more of its people’s experiences than the socialist allegiances pulsing through its being, introducing concepts that, even now, are still believed to be authentic and begin to transcend all cultural boundaries.
Unlike The Battle of Algiers, its ill-founded optimism about the future hasn’t held up very well. While there is no denying the substantial advancements in healthcare and education that Castro’s government brought about in Cuba, the celebration of a post-revolutionary Cuba is hardly warranted.
Still, everything makes sense when viewed as a product of its era. After Batista’s military dictatorship came to an end, communist rule — which at the time of the revolution appeared more like a last resort of hope than a continuation of political injustice — was an unavoidable evil. Thus, it is appropriate to see Soy Cuba’s conclusion as a march for liberation from the oppressive rule of the nation’s radicalized leadership.
The film chronicles the lives of four distinct groups of individuals as they are impacted by Fidel Castro’s revolution and Batista’s reign in four distinct storylines. The majority of the story takes place in the last years of Fulgencio Batista’s reign in Cuba.
In this film, four different people deal with the persecution they endure in Cuba during a time when social and political unrest is building in Havana, the adjacent slums, the forests, and the sugar cane fields. The Voice of Cuba would narrate each of the four stories, setting the scene for the persecution and misery that Batista’s people would endure. In every story, these characters battle with the amount of abuse they endure from the government or foreigners, in addition to their own personal struggles.
The first story centers on Maria, a woman who lives on the outskirts of Havana’s shantytowns and is living an unhappy life; she’s a bar prostitute with a fruit-seller boyfriend named Rene. Maria is aware of her troubled double-life, and the city is overrun with American and European tourists socializing at casinos and bars where they have a good time and boss around the locals.
In the second story, Pedro is a sugar cane farmer who resides on a plot of land surrounded by sugar cane with his son and daughter. Pedro became obsoleted when the property was sold to a fruit company. This part, which shows the landlord stealing away the family’s security and tranquility, is really upsetting. Pedro chooses to set fire to every asset he owns, including his home and all of his sugar cane, when it becomes apparent he’s about to lose everything.
The third narrative details how rebellious students at Havana University were put down while under the leadership of a guy by the name of Enrique. Enrique wants to take extreme action since he is dissatisfied with the group’s meager efforts. He strikes out on his own with the intention of killing the police chief. But when he sees that the police chief is accompanied by his small children, Enrique finds it difficult to pull the trigger even though he has him in his sights.
On the other end of the spectrum, his other fellow revolutionaries are printing fliers while he is away. Police officers infiltrate the group and make an arrest. As one of the rebels starts handing out fliers to the crowd, a policeman shoots him. Later, Enrique organizes and leads an institution-wide student demonstration. More cops are at the site and are dispersing the crowd with fire hoses. Enrique gets shot when the demonstration devolves into a riot. At the end, his body is dragged through the streets, having become a martyr for his beliefs. This third story instantly became my favorite because it was so beautifully shot.
The last section finds Mariano, a typical farmer, turning down a revolutionary soldier’s offer to fight the government. Mariano only wants to live in peace, and the soldier makes an effort to appeal to his wish for his kids to have better lives. Later, the government’s aircraft begin hitting the area without warning. Afterwards, he goes to the Sierra Maestra Mountains to join the rebels. Once the revolution is announced, he marches into Havana.
Fundamentally, these are four short stories about decent people battling grief and God’s wrath — a pitched conflict between a burning sun and a lost nation. The fact that this was a Russian/Cuban production makes perfect sense — only these two countries could have produced a piece with such passion and dramatic impact.
Beyond the political surface, Soy Cuba is first and foremost a cultural film, highlighting the unending beauty of the country it portrays. As colonialism and turmoil persist, music, dancing, and palm trees emerge, thanks to the unrestricted camerawork.
Not only could Soy Cuba have inspired the gorgeous poolside one-take from Paul Thomas Anderson’s Boogie Nights, but its visuals encompass much more. This is the beginning of Scorsese, Coppola, all of them. It’s strange how, despite sophisticated editing techniques and CGI cheat codes, we now admire films like 1917 for their use of the uninterrupted take. Soy Cuba is the epitome of the unbroken take — forget The Player and Goodfellas. Without a question, this is the best camera movement display to ever grace a screen. It’s an absolutely incredible cinematic feat.
Thus, the most important thing to notice is how technically brilliant Soy Cuba is. They performed those amazing long takes and crane shots not simply to look good, but also to show how much better life could be than what you are now experiencing on a daily basis. There is a better way to live than to be a slave to capitalism, and there is also no need to follow the rules of popular films when there is so much more that can be done. Soy Cuba tells the narrative of laborers who escape the cruel restrictions imposed on them by the US and its Batista regime, while also subverting conventional cinematic norms in a striking way. Style is equal to substance.
With a $600,000 budget and plenty of leeway to complete the project, Mikhail Kalatozov received significant support from the Soviet and Cuban governments. Though the stories highlight how bad things were for Cubans under Batista and how they had no true identity until Castro came in and gave them one, for better or worse, the film’s brilliant script by Enrique Pineda Barnet and Yevgeny Yevtushenko does contain an element of Soviet propaganda because it was co-financed by both the Soviet Union and Cuba.
I’d love to write more about this film, but its mere existence speaks volumes about the unity that arises when people stand together against an unjust government. Maybe it feels more powerful now than it ever has before, given the ways in which governments are attempting to impose their will on non-native populations and even push their way of life into uncharted territory. The most disturbing thing about watching Soy Cuba right now, in my opinion, is that we haven’t truly left that world behind.
When the movie’s past as propaganda is taken into account, it simply serves to highlight how important Soy Cuba is to watch. The film still has a global quality, especially considering how commonplace these injustices are in the modern world. Most crucially, though, is that it does, as any very powerful propaganda film would, manage to connect the raw emotions of its extensive storytelling to its political ideas. It’s among the greatest films ever produced.
