Author: 14ymedio

Beyond the blatant disregard of those studying under the auspices of the US government, the “Emerging President*”, a graduate of who-knows-where, does not seem to rely too much on the strength of his media monopoly or in its capacity to influence the masses despite the proven loyalty of its hired scribes. For this reason he “is worried” – his own words – about this exchange of journalism courses and conferences that run outside the classrooms, so strictly controlled by the government, where many graduates get more credit for their demonstrations of loyalty to the regime than for their academic achievements or their talents.

Brief historical look at the “harmful” American influence in Cuba

An article appearing on the last page of the newsaper Granma (The Teachers’ Lessons, Ronald Suárez Rivas, Wednesday May 13, 2015) supports what is already emerging as a new ideological crusade against American “penetration,” so crucial at this time when the government of the Island strives to make peace with its historic enemy.

The work in question goes back more than 115 years ago when, as part of the US intervention in Cuba, after the end of the war of independence from 1895 to 1898, the US government took the initiative to “contribute to training a group of Cuban teachers, and, as if it had been against their will, they “were taken” to the United States.

But, of course, collaborating in the field of education was not “the true intentions” of the northern government, but “one of Washington’s first concrete actions in the ideological field, intended to directly influence the Cuban people” according to the words of a local historian, quoted by the Granma scribe.

In an effort to rewrite history to suit the Castro-ocracy, important details have been omitted that show that the US influence in Cuba was not all absolutely negative

Obviously, in their wish to rewrite Cuba’s history according to the Castro-ocracy’s taste, both the journalist and the official historian omit some important details recorded by renowned writers and other personalities of the time, documented in the Cuban National Archives, showing that the US influence on the Island had already penetrated deeply, long before the military intervention in the Spanish-Cuban-American war took place. Documents, that, in addition, show that the US intervention was not an absolutely negative event.

An event should be mentioned that, at the time, marked the sensibility of the Cuban people in a special way, and earned the gratitude and affection of the poorest sectors: the assistance provided by the US government to the victims of the Reconcentración de Weyler** (1896-1898).

In early January 1898, at the request of the then president William McKinley, Clara Barton, president of the American Red Cross arrived in Cuba to organize the relief to the reconcentrados. She and the US consul in Havana, with the help of Bishop Santander, toured various towns and cities on the Island and were responsible for the coordination and distribution of food, clothing and medicine that began arriving by sea at the port of Havana, thanks to the solidarity bridge established by a Central Committee on Relief, spontaneously organized by the American people.

The philanthropy demonstrated by the Americans had the additional benefit of raising the awareness of the wealthy sectors on the Island of Cuba, which until then had remained indifferent to the scenes of death and desolation caused by the colonial government and intensified by the incendiary torch of the mambises***, both of which had ruined the Cuban countryside, seriously damaging food production.

It was then that some societies and leading Cuban personalities of the era began organizing fund raisers through dances, opera and theater events, raffles, bullfights, book sales and other activities in order to help the reconcentrados and charitable institutions responsible for helping the poorer sectors, suffering from hunger and epidemics due to their lack of resources.

The philanthropy demonstrated by the Americans had the additional benefit of raising the awareness of the wealthy sectors on the Island.

It is true that the US naval blockade, which began on April 22,1898 and ended on August 14th of that year, temporarily worsened the shortages and general poverty. However, just two months after the war’s end, the tireless Clara Barton was able to restart the bridge of essential help – interrupted since the beginning of the naval blockade — which this time would also be enough to provide help to the insurgent mambises, still camped out in rural villages.

The previous month, a flotilla from the US had already been established, responsible for at least partially supplying food to the markets. Though not enough, the aid from the US was the assistance that reached the Cuban people when they needed it the most.

Later on, the work of Clara Barton in Cuba were aimed at creating the basis for what eventually became the Cuban Red Cross and the first health system through the Casas de Socorro (Free emergency clinics) caring for the poor sectors.  Also under the hand of the occupying American army, important sanitation work took place, the engineering work of planning the new sewer and paving systems were started (its construction began in 1908 and ended in 1913), sanitary facilities were established, and the improvement of the aqueduct commenced.

The “Paused General’s” concern for the danger of US influence on Cubans through independent journalism is untimely

The list of benefits derived from the relationship between Cuba and the United States, going back to the history of our nation, would be too long to finish in one article. Suffice it to note that many poor families in Cuba in recent decades would not be able to survive shortages or escape extreme poverty if it were not for the remittances and aid arriving from that country, to which most Cubans looking for a promising future emigrate.

Beyond “the true intentions” of our powerful Northern neighbor, the “Paused General’s” concern over the danger of the biasing effect of the United States on Cuba through independent journalism is, at the very least, untimely. In reality, Cuba and the US never had more mutual interaction than in the last half a century, and perhaps never before did Cubans count on, with so much hope the prosperity that has always arrived from that country, and now, even more than ever, with over two million Cubans living on its soil. And it can be said, without a doubt, that this all took place thanks to the Cuban Revolution.

Translator’s notes:

*”Without haste, but without pause” has been a catch phrase for Raul Castro, in speaking of economic reforms in Cuba. “Emerging President” is a reference to a former program to fill classrooms lacking ‘regular’ teachers with “emerging teachers” – teenagers with hardly any training.

**Valeriano Weyler y Nicolau, Marquis of Tenerife, Duke of Rubí, Grandee of Spain was a Spanish general and Governor General of the Philippines and Cuba whose Weyler Reconcentration policy was responsible for the deaths of hundreds of thousands of Cubans and for the almost complete destruction of the countryside.

***Mambises (plural of mambí) refers to Cuban independence and Filipino guerrillas, who in the nineteenth century took part in the wars for the independence of Cuba and the Philippines against Spain.

Translated by Norma Whiting

The second element in its favor is participation in the script by Leonardo Padura, who has, in recent years, become a fashionable writer inside and outside Cuba, especially since the success of his greatest achievement to date, the novel The Man Who Loved Dogs, a best seller that has sparked what has been termed in literary cliques as “Paduramania”.

Almost the entire cast of the film is composed of experienced and well-known actors such as Isabel Santos, Nestor Jiménez, Fernando Hechavarría and Jorge Perugorría, though it should be noted that the actors do not always come out unscathed from the setbacks imposed on them by the script’s faults and the confinements of the straightjackets their characters embody.

Apart from that, Return to Ithaca is but a mediocre movie that, perhaps with the pretense of presenting the drama of a generation born and raised in the deceit of half a century of a failed Cuban socialist revolution, barely manages a pathetic caricature summarized in the five life stories of resentful and frustrated individuals who do not even come close to representing the spirit of their generation.

The plot, settings, characters and actions turn on stereotypical machinations to the point of lacking credibility and dramatic force. The script is somewhat forced and artificial, in addition to widely appealing to the ease of profanity and vulgarity that, for some, has become “the recourse of Cubanism” in film and literature. It seems that, regardless of what level of education or schooling we Cubans may have, we can only express ourselves through the use of obscene language.

Neither do the characters’ stories reach sufficient depth. They are stiff, synthetic, lacking nuance and not very credible, all of which fail to convey their personal conflicts or to move the viewer’s emotional fiber, thus establishing an atmosphere of distancing between actors and spectators bordering on rejection.

Plot, settings, characters and actions turn out stereotypical machinations to the point of lacking credibility and dramatic force

Amadeo (played by Nestor Jiménez) is the reason for the 50-something reunion of this group of friends. He is a writer who left Cuba to go live in Spain for reasons his friends only find out at the beginning of the movie.

So Amadeo decides to stay in Spain during a working trip to avoid betraying his friend Rafa (played by Fernando Hechavarría), a talented painter who has been harassed and marginalized because of his lack of political commitment to the system. When the reunion takes place, Rafa, who has never asserted himself over the hedge of official censorship, feels bitter about having to survive producing paintings lacking in artistic value for sale to tourists, while Amadeo embodies the misfit émigré who has never been able to write again since his departure, and is now determined to stay in Cuba.

Tania (Isabel Santos) is a doctor specializing in Ophthalmology who, during the so-called Special Period crisis of the 90’s, authorized her minor children’s departure from Cuba. Her decision plunged her into a depression, which she tries to overcome by appealing to her religious beliefs of African origins, as evidenced by the hand of Orula on the bracelet she wears on her wrist. Tania’s debate centers on whether or not she acted correctly when she distanced herself from her children.

Eddy (Jorge Perugorría), manages some enterprise or “firm.” He is a cynic, a hedonist, an opportunist, a parasite, and he is unethical. He travels frequently, he “gets around by car,” constantly gets calls on his cell phone and arrives on the scene with two shopping bags and a bottle of whiskey, a real sign of his status. He is the living image of the great pretender.

Aldo (Pedro Julio Díaz), a character and a perfectly forgettable performance, serves as host for the meeting. He is a frustrated engineer dedicated to the crafting of batteries and just barely making a living, the reason his wife left him to leave the country with an Italian. He is the resigned, conciliatory type, and – together with his mother, with whom he still resides – is one of the plot’s most obvious clichés: a decent and nice Afro-Cuban living in poverty in Central Havana, in a promiscuous environment, surrounded by marginal individuals who sacrifice pigs on the roof terrace next door, of couples who argue loudly from their balcony and of good-natured neighbors who shout out the scores of the baseball game they are watching on TV.

His mother is the kindly black woman who gives good advice, with a scarf wrapped around her head, who makes the best black beans that everyone wants to eat, and who humbly sets the table before leaving the room. She is a shockingly dispensable character.

The cliché of drawings showing El Malecón, the harbor, the Plaza of the Revolution and the Capitol’s cupola are abundant, as silent evidence that the story takes place in Havana, which the same the scenery painted on cardboard could have validated. This almost forces one to remember – in contrast — the masterful way in which Fernando Pérez managed those icons of the Havana environs in his film Suite Havana, where, rather than mere scenes, they are co-stars conveying the spirit of the cityscapes.

What reasons did the commissioners have to censor this poor film during the last film festival in Havana?

Return to Ithaca exudes the oblique, patronizing and folk interpretation of a team of foreign filmmakers and, as such, it’s oblivious to the reality it that wants to present. Therefore, since they are ignorant of the intricacies of such a complex, varied, and nuanced community, the final result offers a superficial and plain view of that reality, unfolding, as a touch of local color, what actually constitutes yet another unfortunate stereotype.

In general, the plot clings to the past — which is really the only element all the characters have in common — by appealing to victimization, to catharsis and to forced conflicts between them, while the Cuban socio-political system, reflected primarily among the memories of the characters, is the invisible villain, the victimizer, flowing from each actor’s lines, though only in the third person, singular: “they sent us to agriculture,” they made us go to the harvest,” “they took us to pick tobacco in the countryside,” “they did not let us listen to The Beatles,” “they fucked up our lives,” and others along the same lines. A non-committal “they did such-and-such to us,” a kind of impersonal culprit entity which is, all at once, the system and nobody, and that allows sneaking the bundle out through the open escape hatch.

And, to put the icing on the cake, there is a version of Return to Ithaca, this calamitous cinematographic accident, that breaks both scenic as well as temporary and situational planes, so that, in some passages, the viewer witnesses a sudden and dramatically useless blackout on the roof, and immediately afterwards, as if by magic, the characters converse with a perfectly lit up Havana in the background, or a roof scene ends and — without a transition — the next scene takes place indoors, with the characters seated around a table in the dining room, savoring Aldo’s mother’s incomparable black beans.

If this disruptive intention was to surprise the viewer, it only serves to baffle him.

In short, when the parade of credits indicates that Return to Ithaca is over (at last!), the viewer can feel a strange mixture of relief and disappointment. Relief, because it will probably convince him that the most wasted 90 minutes of his life are just over. Disappointment, because, just like the very characters in the movie, he will feel deeply cheated. And so perhaps, as it happened to me, he will get up from his chair wondering what reasons the commissioners had to censor this poor film during the last film festival in Havana.

*Orula, a major Orisha in the Afro Cuban religion of Santería, (Yoruba in English), is the future prophet and the counselor of humans.

Translated by Norma Whiting