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Review:
Another epic
“art film” is Before Night Falls (2000, from Fine
Line Features), a biography of Cuban novelist Reinaldo Arenas, as
played by Javier Bardem, directed by Julian Schnabel. The
story would fit any libertarian or more progressive conservative’s dream of
freedom as it chronicles the descent of Cuba in Communism,
with Arenas’s escape from it. Arenas builds his career
as a writer shortly after Castro, and in the beginning has surprising freedom
to follow his instincts—both literary and homosexual--until left-wing
mentality closes in upon him. The government sets up a trumped up
charge of “pedophilia” (it believes the accusations of a teenage boy thief),
but its real “reason” for entrapping Arenas may have been his publishing one
of his novels in France without permission from the “official” writers’
union. The ideological explanations are
simple. “People who make art are dangerous to any
dictatorship” Think about it. Totalitarian
governments—even those predicated on the pretense of “social justice” or
egalitarianism—have a vested interest in “licensing” speech through “the
people.” Russian composer Dmitri Shostakovich would
discover the same thing. I guess, if I lived in Cuba I would be
thrown into prison for self-publishing Do Ask, Do Tell.
The
historical élan has the proper sweep of a big film, and Arenas’s vigorous
character, carrying through the prison escape and then 1980 boat flotilla,
give the film a rooting interest. The scene where he demonstrates
his claim of homosexuality when emigrating by pretending to satisfy a heterosexual
fantasy of homosexuality is particularly cute. The music score
engages Hispanic rhythms in the style of Buena Vista Social Club or
even Touch of Evil. But in one scene, where the
government is just starting to “crack down,” the music turns dead serious,
with the Adagietto of Mahler’s 5th.
A
seemingly more lightweight treatment of Cuba is offered by Dirty
Dancing: Havana Nights (Lions Gate; Miramax; Artisan, 2004, PG-13,
87 Min), which sounds first of all like a tortuously contrived title. (The
film is a prequel to a 1987 film “Dirty Dancing” with Patrick Swayse and
Jennifer Gray.) The setting is during the Christmas season
in Havana in 1958, when an American family is living on the
luxury Havana beachfront, and teenager Jane (Romola Garai) has
befriended local street dancer Javier (Diego Luna). Here Patrick Swayse plays
the hotel dance instructor, Johnny. These are the days just before the fall
of Batista for Castro. Working class Cubans don’t look that bad off in
capitalist pre-Castro Cuba, but they look forward to “freedom,” and the
emerging love between Javier and Jane takes on the character of a Romeo and
Juliet story. Of course, for an audience that “knows,” the political subtext
is shattering. In less than four years, Fidel Castro will have hosted the
Cuban Missile Crisis, and the living standards in Cuba will be horrible for a
half century. Without that knowledge, the screenplay seems a bit dizzy and
light. There are scenes that are out of place, such as putting ornaments on a
Christmas tree after Christmas day. The scene involving class
conflict between well-to-do white Americans, and Cuban families, and their
“blood loyalties,” however, have some impact.
But, then, there
is also the dirty dancing itself. Today the intimate body explorations during
disco (the tee-shirt lift offs, unbuttonings, and touching lower)
dancing (to disco music rather than Latin—I’ve even heard the “Rendez-Vous”
from the animated The Triplets of Belleville adapted to
disco) are well known in gay venues—I like the Cobalt and Velvet Nation in
Washington, DC or the Saloon in Minneapolis, or Village Station in Dallas.
Sometimes this is called “break dancing” although that term also belongs to
specialized styles of athletic oriental dancing. Javier will teach
Jane the dirty dancing, and Jane will reciprocate with some ballroom style,
which brings me back to the Singles Social Club in Arlington in
1971, when a chain-smoking dance floor owner offered a package of dancing
lessons (Fox Trot, Rimba) for $80. The dancing in the film is
a bit on the gentle side, even during the competitions. I’ve seen some pretty
great movements (in terms of what judges would like) at the Saloon.
Dirty
Dancing (1987,
Artisan/Vestron, dir. Emile Ardolino, PG-13, 100 min) is an innocent enough
film about “Baby” falling in love with her vacation camp’s (male) dance
teacher (Patrick Swayse). Nevertheless, the term then was already
referring to a style of very intimate yet athletic dancing popular in gay
discos, with plenty of chest and other teasing. Sometimes it is called “break
dancing” although that often refers to specific tumbling stunts in dancing.
The Lost City (2005,
Magnolia/Cineson, dir. Andy Garcia, 143 min, R) effectively pits family
loyalty against larger views (however flawed) of social justice. In 1958, a
wealthy family in Havana contemplates its future, as its patriarch
tries to reaffirm the loyalty of his sons, one of whom, Fico (Andy Garcia)
runs a nightclub. The storm clouds of revolution against Batista’s right-wing
regime are gathering, and one of the sons, to the horror of his father’s
sense of family legacy, makes a plea for justice. There is discussion whether
democracy can come before revolution, and fear of the
redistribution of wealth by force. There are conversations to the
effect that there friends and enemies, but no acquaintances. The
son participates in a palace attack that resembles a similar scene in Saigon
in The Killing Fields, and is killed; another son is taken prisoner. All of
these “commie pinko” will soon happen in Cuba.
Shortly after New Year’s, 1959, Batista is driven from power and Castro takes
over. Soon the commies invade the nightclub, and make demands. The “Union”
owns the orchestra and can no longer use the saxophone, because it was
invented by a Belgian, and the Belgians are enemies of the people in
the Congo. The family is grasping the indignation of the extreme Left,
which regards family as a way to transmit unearned wealth, and views the rich
and propertied people as parasites on the workers. Their wealth must be
confiscated. One authoritarian regime is replaced by another, as is so often
the case. Fico will leave, but have most of his personal effects confiscated
before he can leave. He arrives in New York with no money, but his
friends, including “The Writer” Bill Murray (who lounges around, despite coat
and tie, in shorts revealing his hairless legs), will follow and help him
re-establish the club in under freedom. At the end, Fico says he is no longer
loyal to a lost cause, but he loyal to his Lost City (Havana). Dustin Hoffman
also stars in another example of a politically charged film with a veteran
all star cast using independent production and financing.
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