Buena Vista Social Club

1st watched 3/14/2001 - (Dir-Wim Wenders): Well-done documentary about long forgotten Cuban musicians and American country musician Ry Cooder's adventure into putting together this band. The music is captivating, the musician's come across as greatful wonderful people who just happen to be able to play their particular instrument very well. Tremendous look into Cuba and it's people with many shots of the city Havana. These musicians are very proud of their country and have no intention of difecting as we as Americans feel that they would because of our limited exposure into this culture. Rare opportunity to walk into a land and people that we don't often see.

And why wasn't it? The editing, the shaky hand held cameras which made it difficult to read the subtitles, the musical numbers cut off before completion, the insertion of Ry Cooder and or his son into practically every frame, the story management - why did it not show the preparation and rehearsals leading up to the climax of Carnegie Hall. The touristy reactions in New York were too kitchsy for words and took the dignity of these brilliant musicians away. I wanted more of these musicians' stories and my favourite sequence was of the pianist playing in Havana and all these tiny little ballerinas dancing around him, caught up in the magic. More of the history of the Buena Vista Social Club would have been wonderful also - this was sad in its omission. These incredible musicians were not served well here.

So a man who chases an enthusiasm for Cuban music and ends up spending his own resources to record and popularize a bunch of musicians who would have died in obscurity otherwise, takes great pains to present the music in a relatively unaltered state (unlike some such other world music experimenters like Sting and Paul Simon), and even removes much of his own contributions from the recording mix, is a self-aggrandizing cultural imperialist. The proof of the man's real intentions lies on the disc, an understated and moving documentation of a era that got plowed under by the cold war.

As for the film, indeed it's not perfect. It would be nice to have full songs, but they decided not to go with a strict concert film and concentrate on the project and the stories behind it. If you want more, the CD is easily available and highly recommended. When I saw this movie at the Lincoln Plaza cinema in Manhattan, I decided when the movie ended to trek over a few blocks to the local record store to see if they had the Cd in stock, As I walked down the street, I noticed that most of the people who had just seen the film were going the same way, and indeed, appeared to have the same idea I did (it was a packed show, by the way). It is perhaps a weakness of the film that it depends on the album for it's interest and power, but it is a loving document of the process.

Is this film perfect? By all means, no. In places the camera work waves out of control, and the constant featuring of Ry Cooder grows tedious. Yet despite all of this, there are certain images that this film captures that have refused to leave my mind. I get chills just thinking about Eliada Ochoa tearing up during her rendition of "Silencio" as she is filmed before an audience of thousands in Stockholm. I will never forget Ruben Gonzalez sitting at his piano basking in applause. And, of course, seeing Ibrahim Ferrer walk through the streets of midtown Mannhattan in utter awe is enough to make any man choke up. Though flawed, this picture never fails to stand as moving testament to the triumph of the human spirit. For these beautiful moments alone, I give this poignant film a 10.

I just got to see this on video last night. It's a lovely film, and the protagonists are memorable. My one problem, however, is with Ry Cooder. Don't misunderstand my admiration for Cooder's past work. He's an original, often evocative guitarist and composer. I just felt that his additions to these recordings -- both in the studio and in their concert versions -- were intrusive at the least. That wailing slide guitar just about ruined some great songs. I'm surprised the gentlemen and ladies of the band didn't say anything. It was a relief when he sat out of a performance. I really wanted to jump into the film, tap him on the shoulder and ask him to put down his guitar and just sit behind the mixing board!

OK. That's my rant. This is an impressive and lovely film.

If you have a chance, track down 1997's Black Tears (lagrimas Negras).