We Are Losing Our Soul

HAVANA TIMES – The Havana Film Festival is virtually dead. What was once one of the most important cultural celebrations in Cuba, the International Festival of New Latin American Cinema arguably the most massive of them all— is dying.

For decades, thousands of people flocked daily to various movie theaters to watch films, most of which were of low quality, except for those from other countries included in the Contemporary International Showcases. This was true both in the capital and in the rest of the country, where screenings were less frequent but always present.

That’s how it always was, and it was never a problem. The cinemas were constantly packed, lines were enormous (sometimes stretching over a block, not as a single-file line but as a dense mass covering the entire sidewalk). Fights, shoving, shattered glass from the crowd surge, police cordons, and even occasional sprays of tear gas from the officers were commonplace.

It felt as if a rock star was performing, and all of this happened in this country, despite the issues with transportation and food. But it seems that this current festival (Dec. 5-15), things hit rock bottom.

Most people have turned their backs on cinema entirely, consumed by the most basic struggle for survival amidst a critical situation on every level, exacerbated by daily power outages.

One might argue that there are other alternatives, such as the so-called weekly audiovisual package or those who can download movies directly at home. But these options have existed for over a decade now, so they’re not exactly new.

In fact, in 2024, there was even talk of eliminating these distributors of entirely illicit yet indispensable content for those fed up with the National Television News.

This option is also more comfortable, you’re at home, perhaps in bed, with no one to disturb you (apparently). But the magic of the dark movie theater always had its charm, even though it’s become harder to enjoy in recent years due to lit-up cellphones during screenings and the inevitable “commentators” who disrupt the film with their chatter, while cinema staff remain passively indifferent.

Transportation has always been poor, never meeting expectations. Moviegoers used to rely on it to get to Vedado and then moved from one theater to another on foot or even running, depending on the distance and the time between screenings.

But now, the prices for private drivers have skyrocketed. And as for the power outages, some may have attended the Festival to escape them, as the area was supposedly given priority. But many likely assumed they wouldn’t be spared even there and chose not to risk it.

I say “supposedly” with intention, as there was at least one outage I experienced firsthand. On Wednesday, the 11th, at the Yara cinema, the 5:30 p.m. screening was delayed for that very reason.

I’ve attended the last 35 Festivals almost without interruption, and the decline began with the reduction in screening venues. In the early 1990s, every municipality in Havana had at least one functioning cinema, and they were all filled to capacity.

From about 20 theaters used at that time, we’re now down to eight—all located along the iconic 23rd Street circuit, except for Acapulco and Infanta, which are nearby, and the Glauber Rocha Theater, which is much farther away.

The economic crisis makes it impossible to keep a cinema open year-round when there’s nothing being shown, so many have opted to host comedy shows, children’s musicals, or even circus acts.

A festival screening slot was also cut—the 12:30 p.m. show—perhaps due to the reduced number of films in competition. It seems filmmakers from the region have turned away from the event, and the number of visiting personalities has also noticeably dwindled.

This year, for instance, aside from a few presentations featuring some of the production crew, there were no notable figures from other countries, as there were in previous editions. Even the juries now consist mostly of Cubans because there’s no other choice.

I had my doubts on the first day I attended. The film wasn’t particularly outstanding, and there were only about 30 people in the theater. I thought it might just be the early days and that the excitement hadn’t caught on yet. But I was convinced of the problem when, on a Saturday at 3 p.m., the Yara—the quintessential cinema alongside the Chaplin—wasn’t even partially full for a film by renowned Brazilian director Karim Aïnouz, a favorite among Cuban fans.

This pattern repeated with subsequent films, including a Cuban one that would normally have caused a frenzy. The following Saturday, also at 3 p.m., the theater was nearly empty again, fewer than 100 people attended.

We’re losing our essence. The Festival, with its vibrant atmosphere, always served as a bubble where the people of Havana and other provinces (this year, films were only shown in provincial capitals) could briefly escape their usual problems, despite the logistical difficulties.

For many, it was a celebration. I know people who packed their backpacks with snacks, water, warm clothes, and flashlights—before cellphones were common—and spent entire days hopping from one theater to another, watching four or five movies daily for the two weeks of the event.

Of course, there were always those who came just to pass the time (often the most disruptive seatmates, as they were there for everything but the film). But between enthusiasts and idlers, every theater was packed. And, again, the quality of the films didn’t always justify it.

But now, even those who go to chat aren’t willing to spend ten Cuban pesos (five times the price of a decade ago), not to mention the price of the usual snacks consumed during screenings.

Just this week, President Miguel Díaz-Canel reflected on the year and had no choice but to thank the people for their endurance. But the cost is proving to be too high.

Cuba—or any country—must not lose its soul.

Read more from Cuba here on Havana Times.

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