This article analyses Sandra Gómez's Cuban documentary El futuro es hoy, which has won awards not only in Cuba but also in Europe. The article first studies in detail the content of this short film, whose main theme focuses upon the current situation in Cuba and, specifically, what the seven protagonists think about their future in the island. The article then situates Sandra's work within the Hispanic cinematic context. The conclusion is that the film is derived from both film and literary influences and argues that it has a poetic character observed in her particular way of portraying the current state of affairs in Cuba. Finally, the article places her work within the so-called ‘Generation Y’ or ‘90’ in Cuba.
Award SIGNIS 2009 in the Muestra Nuevos Realizadores Cubanos (Havana); Best Documentary Award in the 8th Edition of the Euganea Film Festival 2009 (Italy); Golden Award in the International Film Festival Film Insulaire 2010 (Groix). More information in http://www.peacock.ch/index.php?site=DOCUMENTARIES&film=35&show=festivalsandawards.
About the controversial term of cubanidad, it is interesting to remember its geographical meaning and in particular to rescue the definition provided by the geographers Joseph L. Scarpaci and Armando H. Portela in their book Cuban Landscapes: Heritage, Memory and Place . New York: The Guilford Press, 2009.
In fact, Sandra Gómez told me that in 2010 Cuba prohibited to fish in the Malecón and, as a result, this fisherman cannot fish there anymore.
The central office of SIGNIS is in Brussels. Over there they have money to finance the video projects of these young Cubans. SIGNIS does not belong to the ICAIC. On the contrary, SIGNIS belongs to the Catholic Church, and they are always against the Marxist system. Sandra Gómez is so far the only director who has been awarded twice by SIGNIS.
I met him personally during the SIGNIS awards ceremony on 24 February 2009.
For instance, remember the awarded novel by Daína Chaviano, El hombre, la hembra y el hambre (1998).
According to the director, ‘esta carpa es en realidad una gran excepción, un caso único. Un suceso aislado, independiente, casi fuera de la ley, porque en realidad estaría prohibido colocar una carpa así allí en las rocas; solo que este personaje es una buena persona y ya los policías lo conocen. Ellos saben que vive justo en el edificio de enfrente y lo dejan en paz’ (author's unpublished interview to Sandra Gómez).
That ‘something’ could well be that anticipated fiesta that foresees Roberto González Echevarría (2010: 281), when he mentions in his book titled Cuban Fiestas: ‘A certain death is needed before people will pour out onto the streets and begin dancing again.’
Sisyphus was the first King of Ephyra, and because of his use of trickery, he was punished by Hermes to roll a huge stone up a steep hill. Due to the heavy weight of the stone, he was inevitably forced to begin again. However, the fisherman differs from Sisyphus in the sense that he does not seem to be condemned to a futile exercise.
Also I had the honour to meet Susana Barriga and watch her short film during the ‘Coloquio Internacional Ciudad y Mujeres’ organised by Luisa Campuzano in Casa de las Américas, Havana, 23–27 February 2009.
This particular financing comes from outside and is a problem that affects other artistic productions, especially literature due to the fall of the Cuban publishing industry during the ‘Special Period’, which forced several writers to look for a publisher outside the island. Therefore, we can see Cuban art produced by foreign money and hence the question of whether Cuban authors abroad have an ‘agenda’, and if so, whether this is due to targeting a specific Cuban audience or, on the contrary, this is provoked by the demand of a foreign market. That is to say, foreigners are interested in buying Cuban art without knowing the politics in the island. For more information, please read the books of Esther Withfield (2007) and Andrea O'Reilly Herrera (2011).
Apart from alluding to the already disappeared literary supplement of Pardo Lazo, known as Lunes de Revolución, here we also think that it is necessary to remember what is meant by its disappearance, which according to Howe is ‘a definite end to semi-independent presses and aesthetic freedom’ (Howe 2004: 187).