Saturday, December 16, 2000

Young Filmmakers and Musicians Create a New Revolution in Cuba

By LORENZA MUNOZ, Times Staff Writer

HAVANA--On any weekend night you can find many of
Havana's hip youngsters on the historic malecon, hanging
out along the oceanfront walkway, plotting which rave to go to,
arguing about which rap song they like the most, where on
their bodies they should get their next piercing or what shade
of purple they should dye their hair.

Although still somewhat underground, this hipster scene
is growing larger in a communist country led by the same
man who came to power more than 40 years ago. So struck
was Cecilia Araujo, a 25-year-old cinema student from Brazil,
by the emergence of this youth culture in one of the few
communist countries remaining in the world, that she felt she
had to capture it on film. Her debut effort, "Every Night in
Havana Ends at the Malecon," screened earlier this week for
a group of filmmakers from the Sundance Institute who were
visiting Cuba for the 22nd annual International Festival of
New Latin American Cinema, which ended Friday.
"So many of our friends were a part of this youth culture
that we decided to go out and investigate it," Araujo said after
the screening. "It's still underground, but it's going to explode
soon." She likes to think of the film as "a revelation."
The 13-minute short stars 22-year-old Telma Diaz, who in
real life is the lead singer of a Cuban rap group called Free
Hole Negro.

Telma's character, Paloma, and her friends wander
Havana searching for something to do. She longs to sing in a
rap or hip-hop group and to be the queen of the techno
scene, but she also is hungry for something bigger. Her
dreams become stagnated as the night goes on, and by
dawn, she and her friends are again looking out over the
malecon, dreaming of what lies across the water.
"This film is dedicated to all the young Cubans, who apart
from starring in this movie have their sights on the horizon,"
the credits say.

"These kids don't want rumba, an indigenous Cuban
sound of music, but rap, or hip-hop. They don't want son,
another form of traditional Cuban music, they want techno.
And they don't want to wear guayaberas--a traditional Cuban
shirt, but tank tops and T-shirts. But for now, they are waiting.
Waiting for the 21st century to land in Cuba."

Finding Ways to Express Themselves
Diaz and her group say they are not trying to imitate
anything American--they are proud to be Cuban and inject
their own Cubanismos into their rap and techno mixes. In
fact, they have an upcoming album titled "X More" mixing rap
with Cuba's best-known son artist Benny More.

But one thing they do want is to be able to hear more
American music. They want better equipment to mix their
music. And they want to be able to say whatever they please
in their music. Although the situation is definitely better than it
was for their parents, in order to express themselves they
have to find a way that doesn't catch the government's eye.
"There are always ways to express yourself without being
critical," said Lester Martinez, who at 30 is the oldest member
of Free Hole Negro. "Look, Cubans have a way of laughing at
our misfortunes."

But just as he said that, Diaz glanced at him and said,
"Well, I don't want to be one of those who dies laughing."
Music and film in young Cuba seem to be areas in which
there is a whiff of openness. An unprecedented number of
Cuban hip-hop and rock groups are performing in Havana.
Authorities are allowing the raves to occur, if somewhat
reluctantly.

The International School of Cinema & Television averages
80 students, some from other countries but most from Cuba.
They are shooting in digital format as well as on film, and for
the most part say they don't feel the government intruding on
what they have to say. Although no filmmaker has replaced
the late, legendary director Tomas Gutierrez Alea, there is no
shortage of eager students hoping to make their own mark
on Cuban film, said Maria Julia Grillo, academic program
director at the school.

"We have lived through some difficult years," at the film
school and Cuba as a whole, Grillo continued, referring to the
terrible economic times known as the "special period" the
country faced from 1990 to 1995.

"But things are better," she said.

"At the school, we are seeing a lot of documentaries.
These kids are very interested in documenting the realities in
their lives."

The artistic vitality of young Cuba is not lost on Carlos
Vera, a 20-year-old Ecuadorean studying film at the Cuban
school.

"It's such an interesting country. Although it may be closed
politically, in film they are somewhat free," Vera said.
"Cubans still take great risks saying certain things, but it's
more free."

Manuel Tamayo, a native 28-year-old studying to be a
producer, agrees with his classmate.

"There are many themes we can touch--at least delicately,
things can be done," he said. "I think young people are
making some very interesting things. We touch on themes
about society, about family and about our reality."
Still, even Tamayo acknowledged that hard-core subjects
such as drug abuse and prostitution are generally not
acceptable. "We still have to maintain the pretext of being
clean," said Tamayo, a striking young man with thick curly
hair, strong cheekbones, heavy eyelashes and dark eyes.
Still, there is a vibrancy among Cuba's youth that surprises
some visitors.

"I've been so amazed by this feeling that these young
people are the future of this country," said Tajamika Paxton,
who runs actor Forest Whitaker's production company, Spirit
Dance, in Los Angeles and visited Cuba for this year's film
festival. Paxton spent several nights dancing at raves and
was amazed by their similarity to American techno parties.

"There is a craving in their heart, and they have such
vitality. It's like they know their boundaries but they don't
respect that in their hearts," Paxton said. "They are totally
about change, and that kind of hunger will bring change to
this country."

Copyright 2001 Los Angeles Times