I am Cuba [Soy Cuba]
Dir. Mikhail Kalatozov, Soviet Union/Cuba, 1964, 141 mins, subtitles

I am Cuba, The Siberian Mammoth [Soy Cuba, O Mamute Siberiano]
Dir. Vicente Ferraz, Brazil, 2004, 90 mins, subtitles

Cast: Sergio Corrieri, Salvador Wood, Jose Gallardo, Raul Garcia, Luz Maria Callazo

Leftists have long considered the insidious spiral between prostitute, pimp and punter an essential metaphor and epitome of the vicissitudes of economic inequality, particularly those that arise under capitalism. No surprise then to witness the sorry tale of Maria in I am Cuba, who sells her body to US tourists in pre-revolutionary Cuba to earn enough to live while the owners of the bar where she works make a tidy profit. ‘No surprise’ because as a 1964 co-production between the Soviet Union and Cuba, Fidel Castro’s newly revolutionary socialist state, I am Cuba intended to show how the erstwhile Cuban dictator Fulgencio Batista had prostituted the nation to the capitalist powers; all the better to eulogise the 1959 revolution that overthrew him as the historic destiny of the Cuban people and the vanguard of the worldwide victory of communism.

Heady days indeed and I am Cuba comprises several episodes designed to chart a burgeoning revolutionary will. It features a huge range of Cuban characters whose stories merge into one story, History, and who are finally intended to speak with one voice, that of the Cuban nation. Thus when Maria’s US client scarpers from her slum in the morning, dodging poverty-stricken kids along the way, ‘the voice of Cuba’ rebukes him, ‘For you I am casinos, bars, clubs, but the hands of these men, of these children are also me.’ The Christian overtones in such a credo are repeated throughout the film. Presumably the atheistic Soviets made concessions here to Cuban Catholicism but these overtones are also intrinsic to the religiosity of much of the socialist imagery. For example Maria’s inner virtue is represented by the crucifix that she refuses to sell to her client, while the deaths of student protestors play like the passion of Christ.

I am Cuba is remarkable on two levels: as a historical curiosity and more importantly as a technically astonishing and visually resplendent feat of filmmaking. Regarding the former, I am Cuba is a noteworthy example of communist propaganda and a fascinating mutation of the communist party-approved school of socialist realist filmmaking. Stalin had been dead for eight years when Russian director Mikhail Kalatozov - whose previous film The Cranes are Flying had benefited from the relaxation of formalist dogma - and cinematographer Sergei Urusevsky arrived in Cuba to collaborate with the newly formed Cuban institute for filmmaking on a movie about the Cuban revolution. After an unpopular initial screening - Cubans didn’t recognise themselves in such a Russian film and the communist party considered the film’s depiction of capitalism to be rather too attractive – I am Cuba languished until its rediscovery in the mid-90s.

So the politics are simplistic, the message is propagandist and the characterisation is giddy romanticism but Hollywood could be criticised for similar ideological excesses today (its ideology is less obvious only because there are less obvious alternatives). To give you an idea of I am Cuba’s purely cinematic worth, Martin Scorsese reportedly enthused that if he’d seen the film when he was young then he would now be a different director. He and Francis Ford Coppola organised the re-release of the film, doubtless as stunned as I was by the continuous takes, the serpentine - seemingly impossible - camera movements, the complex orchestration of huge crowds, and above all the radiant black and white photography scorched by the Caribbean sun.

In the Soviet Union filmmaking was a matter of prestige comparable to the space race, hence Mosfilm channelled disproportionate resources into productions that rival any Hollywood epic in their scope. Nonetheless I am Cuba is by any measure exceptional and if you care about cinema then you must see it on the big screen. Once you have you will undoubtedly want to know how it was made, therefore I recommend the cinematically, historically, and politically stimulating documentary I am Cuba, The Siberian Mammoth, that accompanies the film’s run at the ICA. It’s a welcome accompaniment to an incredible trip, part sublime and part kitsch (but wholly unique).

Peter Fraser

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