Erinnerung an die Unterentwicklung

I saw this film in a film class, where we were looking at the mix of elements of documentary footage as well as fictional footage (including the use of archives, stills, voice-over), in relation to Resnais' Hiroshima Mon Amour. All I can say is that I was interested in the film, and at times my interest really peaked up with the style, but it's not for everyone, that's for sure. The director is very talented with mixing the elements of making narrative out of seemingly non-narrative. Here and there I was even reminded of Bertolucci's Before the Revolution. But here and there I wondered 'would this be just better as a straight documentary on the post Cuban revolutionary world?' The questions raised by its main character Sergio are intelligent, but there are so many of them thrown at a viewer, or just in observations. And you may need to be completely up on your Cuban history circa late 50's-early 60's to catch some of the stuff inside.

The storyline itself is actually just as involving, if not more so, than the documentary side to the film, as Sergio's viewpoint of the Cuban's (misguided) revolutionary stances and problems with the bourgeoisie is a parallel to his relationships with women. The story with the young girl he seduces, and gets in trouble with, are some of my favorite scenes from the lot (and when I most woke up to watch). It's a little more tedious at times than 'Hiroshima' was as a hybrid-style film, and even with its gritty style that even in fictional form is very documentary-like, it didn't blow me away as much as it has for others who have commented here. However, I would say if you're into the history and hows and whys of the Cuban revolution and Castro and the Bay of Pigs, AND want a character to guide you through it all, this is quite the view.

"Memories of Underdevelopment" (Cuban, 1968): Made in 1968, set and shot (b/w) in 1961-62 Cuba, using a frighteningly smooth blend of documentary footage, and flash-backs, with new sets, locations, and actors in present-time, we watch a man at an airport say goodbye to most everyone he's ever known. THEY are escaping the new Castro Cuba, to start over in Miami, USA. HE has decided to remain (although we're never given much of an explanation why), and use (what must be) his independent wealth. Now living in the big city with only strangers, he wanders about looking for relationships. Instant closeness. Replacements. Although carrying the demeanor of a suave, patient, aging bachelor, he has the desperation of a teenage boy, driven by appearances and hormones. As archival footage is used to expand the vision of Castro's Cuba, it is clear the lonely man is the one making the bigger mistake. I thought of this "story" as Emotionally Existential.

This isn't just a film of historical value; far from it. It is one of the greatest films ever made by anyone. The balance of elements that went into this venture came out magnificently poetic and real. The semi-documentary style is deeply influenced by 'Hiroshima Mon Amor' and other New Wave classics, but the sensibility is Alea's own and distinctly 'Latin American Intellectual.' There are very few films that can make me cry, this is one of them. Not because of the story, but simply because of the way it is made, the beautifully subtle way it is expressed. The leading character's central tragedy of not being able to reconcile his own deep feeling for his people with his intellectual standards because of their 'underdevelopment' and subsequent alienated existence or more precisely their inability to transcend their alienation to reach a more fulfilled state is one of the most touching and relevant themes I've ever seen in a film. It is more relevant more today, 30 years later than it was then, everywhere, not just in the island of Cuba with its mere 7 million inhabitants. A great performance by Sergio Corrieri (I Am Cuba) provides the required erotic undertone and comedic rhythms to convey the true feel of an intellectual 'playboy' existence in early '60s Cuba. The effect of this film is visceral and must be seen to be appreciated, words can hardly describe it. Suffice it to say that it uses all the resources of cinema and then some, but subtly and with maximum poetic control, and is a thousand times more valuable than most of the pretentious art films of today. If only one tenth of one percent of the audience that will see a piece of garbage like 'Mission Impossible 2' (which I sat and puked through I regret to say, because of all the hype about the 'action sequences' of John Woo, to kill a couple of hours which I'll never again be able to recover) this summer could somehow miraculously be forced to watch and understand this film and see its parallels within their own society of computerized complacent banality, the intellectual level of this country would shoot up overnight.

If you are inclined to think that Third World Cinema is simplistic and one-dimensional, I invite you see Tomas Gutiérrez Alea's Memories of Underdevelopment, selected by the New York Times in 1974 as one of the year's ten best movies. Based on the novel Inconsolable Memories by Edmundo Desnoës, a Cuban writer who lived in the United States, Memories is a complex and probing film about the dilemma faced by intellectuals in Cuba following the revolution. Although directed by a Cuban who supported the revolution and remained in Cuba until his death, the film has a European sensibility, interlacing fiction and documentary footage and using poetic images, literary narration, flashbacks, and newsreel footage reminiscent of Alain Resnais' Hiroshima Mon Amour.

Sergio (Sergio Corrieri) is a frustrated writer who chooses to remain in Cuba rather than follow his family to Miami just "to see how it all turns out". Though he has strong feelings for his people, he is indifferent towards politics an observer rather than a participant. Alea shows the artist as anti-hero, a man who undergoes an identity crisis, is sapped of all his vitality, feels old in his thirties, and drifts along without meaning and purpose. Unable to write the novel he wants, Sergio survives on rental income from apartments and lives in middle class luxury while around him housing is deteriorating and there are serious gas and oil shortages. He spends his days smoking in bed, looking out of a telescope through his bedroom window, taking walks, watching television, and meeting young women. He makes no pretense of his being an outsider but complains that "everything happens to me too early or too late". Hanna, the woman he says he truly loved urged him to move to New York with her and become a writer but he chose to remain in Cuba to go into the furniture business.

When Sergio makes the acquaintance of Elena (Daisy Granados), a sixteen- year-old girl who wants to be an actress, his life takes on new meaning but it is temporary and the affair ends badly. Persuading her that he knows important people in the theatrical world, he brings her to his apartment and they begin a relationship in which he tries to model her to fit his ideal of the bourgeois Cuban woman. He takes her to modern art galleries and the home of writer Ernest Hemingway to expose her to culture but it doesn't work and he complains when she doesn't fit into his mold. "She doesn't relate to things," he tells himself. "It's one of the signs of underdevelopment." Elena, like other Cuban women", he says, has an "inability to relate to things, to accumulate experience, to develop", but the stricture can just as easily refer to himself and he pays the price of this experience when the girl's parents bring a lawsuit against him for rape. Although he escapes the fate of a criminal, little by little the outside world, the world of guns, slogans, and rallies closes in on him and he feels trapped.

There are several documentary sequences interspersed throughout the film that have no apparent connection to the narrative but convey the sense that no one living in revolutionary Cuba is able to escape the presence of history. The opening sequence shows a public dance in which all the participants are black with the exception of Sergio who is white. In this sequence continued later in the film, an unnamed political leader is assassinated. In other footage, we see excerpts from the trial of counterrevolutionaries captured at Playa Giron, the site of the Bay of Pigs invasion in 1961, and a third in which we hear the voices of Castro and Kennedy during the Cuban Missile crisis.

Though Alea apparently wants us to see the fate that befalls someone who does not directly endorse revolutionary activities, he makes his character so appealing and sympathetic that, to me, the film had mixed messages. I was torn between my support of the aims of the revolution and empathizing with Sergio's disdain for the emptiness of both the Cuban bourgeois and the revolutionary leadership. An event that took place only three years after Memories of Underdevlopment was released, however, underscored the point that Sergio was making. At that time, Castro, at the First National Congress on Education and Culture, said that artists and writers must reject "all manifestations of a decadent culture, the fruit of societies that are rent by contradictions". Not surprisingly, although due to receive a special prize for the film from the U.S. National Society of Film Critics in 1973, Gutiérrez Alea was denied a visa to attend the ceremony.

The fact that I enjoyed this a lot whilst disliking much within the film is odd. It is a compelling tale set at the beginning of the 60s as tensions between the US and Cuba increase and are complicated by an opportunist USSR and the cinematography is daringly wondrous making even the seeming mundane something of beauty. On the other hand our narrator and main guy played by Sergio Corrieri is hard to feel much empathy for as he spurns the US and the chance to flee there with his wife and friends but also the Cubans he is left behind with. The dialogue seems clumsy and this could well be the translation but inevitably much is made of the issue of 'underdevelopment' which our hero uses to explain why he cannot relate to the Cuban population. His elitist stand seems to be that because they are so 'underdeveloped' he cannot really relate to them. Nevertheless the film bulges with historic detail and local colour and significance so that even the film's seeming main thrust cannot spoil our pleasure.