Film
festivals should want to showcase good films. That is why it is so
disappointing the maybe not-so independent Havana Film Festival New York
downgraded this tale of a gay dissident writer’s unlikely friendship with his
temporary minder to an out-of-competition slot. Of course, the International
Festival of New Latin American Cinema in Havana just completely caved to
government pressure, reversing its initial acceptance of the film. These craven
fests will really look foolish when audience see how sensitive and mature
Carlos Lechuga’s Santa & Andrés really
is when it opens today in New York (trailer here).
Life
and Cuba has not changed very much since 1983, the year S&A is set. The infrastructure is more decrepit and it is more
difficult to attain political asylum in America, but censorship is obviously
just as high as it was then. Right now, average Cubans have no hope of ever
seeing this film. Likewise, Andrés has no hope of ever seeing his work
published in his native land. Out of his circle of literary friends, he is the
last that remains. The others have defected or committed suicide. However, Andrés
has been unusually difficult. He caused an international scandal by crashing
the last “peace conference,” so Jesus, the local party boss (thug), has
recruited Santa to babysit Andrés during this year’s propaganda fest.
Santa
is a naïve rural woman, who has never questioned Party orthodoxy. She also probably
doesn’t fully understand it when Andrés assures her he really is gay. However,
she is naturally compassionate and instinctively cares for the dissident when
he is beaten by a crude, self-loathing lover. Despite Andrés’s prickly
personality, a friendship develops between the two outsiders. As a result, she finally
starts to question the Party’s legitimacy and the ruthlessness of its tactics.
There
is no mistaking the censorship and strongarm brutality exercised by Castro’s
enforcers in S&A, so it is easy
to understand why it gave panic attacks to the apparatchiks. Yet, the film
itself is really defined by the connection forged by these gentle, put-upon
souls. Most people who would have seen it would have remembered it for the platonic
relationship, but by censoring it, the Castro regime ironically calls attention
to its indictment of human rights violations. Awesome, great work people.
Lola
Amores gives one of the year’s best performances as Santa. She is rough around
the edges, but poignantly lonely and alienated. Arguably, Eduardo Martinez’s
portrayal of Andrés is even more complicated, ranging from resentful to
mournful to resigned hopelessness, yet still forging such a resonant connection
with his counterpart.
Lechuga
definitely captures that stifling hot Caribbean vibe of ennui as well as the
hardscrabble realities of rural Cuba. Admittedly, it is a bit slow out of the
blocks, but it amply rewards patient viewers. It is most likely the most touching
platonic friendship you will see on film all year—and perhaps the most notable
since Gregg Araki’s radically different Kaboom.
Very highly recommended, Santa & Andrés
opens today (11/10) in New York, at the Cinema Village.
