October 4, 2011
Armando Chaguaceda
From "Pravda", Nicanor (l).
In my last post I dealt with art that's critical yet committed to
expressing the realities of today's Cuba. At that time I discussed the
hip hop duo Los Aldeanos, while this time we turn our gaze to the work
of filmmaker Eduardo del Llano.
Del Llano is a recognized Cuban script writer and author, who (under the
playful and self-run banner of Sex Machine Productions) leads a group of
artists committed to the creation of critical films that intelligently
satirize our nation's situation.
The entire series revolves around the adventures of the character
Nicanor O'Donnell (a Cuban intellectual, critique and patriot) who has
to simultaneously deal with family conservatism, the commercialization
of everyday life, public simulation, press censorship and visits by
police agents.
In one of his latest works, titled "Pravda" (the Russian term for
"truth," and which refers to the Communist Party newspaper, the
principal publication of the USSR from 1918 to 1991), Nicanor is an
admirer of the exploits at the Moncada Garrison, the 1953 guerrilla
attack that marked the genesis of the 1959 Cuban Revolution.
Nicanor is arrested and subjected to interrogation for carrying out
Kafkaesque "clandestine painting" employing revolutionary banners and
slogans of the July 26th Movement. That film, set to music with a theme
by the hip hop duo Los Aldeanos, is an excellent reflection of the
relationship between art, activism and power in today's Cuba.
The dialogues reflect the appropriation of nationalism and patriotism as
state-owned property:
Nicanor: I'm a patriot
Agent: Yeah, that's what they all say, as if this homeland is for everyone.
Nicanor: "It's not?
Agent: No, it's only for everyone…who deserves it.
Suspicion runs throughout the officialdom concerning any show of
independence. Likewise, there's an arbitrary categorization of
citizens' initiatives, regardless of what's formally recognized by the law.
Agent: Why did you sneak outside several nights to paint banners and
'long live the 26th' on walls in Vedado?
Nicanor: I told you … I want to keep the original meaning alive, the
ritual act.
Agent: The modus operandi…
Nicanor: If you like, though the term seems a bit worn-out… Look, those
slogans always appeared clandestinely.
Agent: Before the revolution … when they were protesting the
dictatorship … following your logic you paint because you're a
dissident, because it establishes a comparison between…
Nicanor: A dissident who paints graffiti with the slogans of the regime
that he supposedly hates?
Agent: Nobody carries out patriotic assaults at three o'clock in the
morning.
Nicanor: I do.
Agent: Well, that's not normal.
Nicanor: That it's not normal doesn't make it subversive
Agent: What? – I'm the one who decides that.
Nicanor: Wow, I thought it was the law that made those determinations.
For those who are unfamiliar with the internal dynamics of political
control in Cuba for half a century, this dialogue might seem surreal.
However, this expresses almost exactly the type of arguments of the
agents of power use when confronting activists and independent creators.
Anyone with experience in interacting with these agents (and their
political culture) will testify to their viewing any criticism — even
from the left — as being "subversive" or at least "manipulated by the
enemy."
Autonomous initiatives are "destabilizing actions by the CIA," while
calls for participatory socialism and popular self-organization are
"fine for other countries, but not in Cuba, because here the revolution
is already taking care of those concerns. And if anyone dares to defend
their sincere involvement or membership in any left wing current,
officials lash back saying "being left in Cuba is defending the ideas of
Fidel and Raul," thus slamming the door on any attempt at friendly dialogue.
But people tend to be stubborn when — in addition to believing in the
cause they defend — perceive the position that confronts them as being
orphaned.
But as for Nicanor, in an act of transparent transgression against
power, he announces to his inquisitor: "Next Saturday I'm going to put
up more graffiti, sickles and hammers along with the phrase 'All Power
to the Soviets.'"
I think that phrase condenses the idea of intent, libertarianism and
patriotism, from art criticism that is determined on insisting, despite
those "blows of life" as announced by the Cuban lyrics.
In this approach, like those taken every day through many decent and
compassionate acts by doctors, teachers and ordinary people, the legacy
of a revolution is still living (though damaged) , despite the dark
forces that butcher it with their actions.
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