The Final Touch: The Parking Lot
Text and Photos by Nester Nuñez (Joven Cuba)
HAVANA TIMES – The blanket, the old bedspread, or the yoga mat, held by the mother’s hands, unfurls in the air a few seconds before landing spread out on the asphalt. Then the children jump on it with the excitement of having boarded a flying carpet. From their spot in the aircraft, they watch others arriving, greet that little friend from school or the neighborhood, and munch on the popcorn their mother hands them. They will stay in the same place for two hours, but their fantastic journey began a while earlier, when they found out they were going to see a movie at the parking lot today.
They are in Havana, at a place called La Puntilla, very close to the sea. Behind them is a ruined building that is a poem for the eyes, a painful one, of farewells and twilight. The jagged concrete, the political slogan on that wall, the salt in the air, and the many people, mostly young, who arrive and occupy the few empty spaces. They come on bikes, rollerblades, electric scooters, or walking alone or in groups. I see the effusive hugs and smiles on everyone’s faces. One person, talking on the phone, says as a greeting: “Park yourself, my friend.”
They gather, supposedly, to enjoy the art, the magic of open-air cinema, but from the back, the movie audio cannot be heard, and no matter how stoic they are, it is uncomfortable to sit on the ground for at least two hours. So, there must be something more. Maybe they feel empowered by reversing the usual use of the parking lot or taking over the surrounding empty space. Watching them, I remember the university students in the Las Arcadas Park in Santa Clara, or at El Mejunje, gathered around a guitar on trova nights during the Longina Festival. It’s like when the hordes of rockers and emos used to invade G Avenue in Vedado, Havana.
The boy puts his hand under the blanket and removes a small stone that was poking his back. His sister rested her head on their mother’s lap. They chatted with their dad a while ago, via WhatsApp. They told him that they would be watching Moana today and repeated that yes, they were happy. He told them that when they arrive where he is, he would take them to a real cinema, and the mother quietly said, so the children wouldn’t hear: “I’d be happy if you were here now, even if just for the duration of the movie.” Then the Walt Disney Animation Studios logo was projected on the building wall, and they had to hang up: “I’ll call you later.” “Send me pictures, please. Take care of them and yourself. Kisses.”
Going to the Parking Lot is trendy, it’s chic, it’s cool, it gets likes and red hearts on the photos you post on Instagram and Facebook profiles, and that attracts, brings people together. But the feeling of brotherhood, the manifest camaraderie among those present, is deeper than that. Besides an escape from the harsh daily reality, perhaps it is a form of resistance, of opposing the excessive commercialization of everything, the relentless price of the dollar, the lack of cultural options to share with friends and family, the loneliness, and the differences between those who have money and those who do not. Going to the Parking Lot, no matter what movie is shown, is nourishing the spirit for a while.
We must thank the creators of this project and follow their example. Hopefully, other initiatives will expand the experience, especially in the humble and marginalized neighborhoods throughout the country.
When the movie ends, the girl remains lying down, with her head on her mother’s lap. Now she looks at the stars. Maybe she’s thinking about how to project a movie in the sky, so all the children in Cuba can go out to their yards, to the rooftops, to enjoy just like her. It’s something they deserve.