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Hispanic Studies: Culture and Ideas 38
Guy Baron
38
A film institute was the first cultural institution to be created by the new Cuban
revolutionary government in 1959. One of its aims was to create a new cinema
Gender in Cuban Cinema
to suit the needs of the Revolution in a climate of transformation and renewal.
During the same period, issues of gender equality and gender relations became
important as the Revolution attempted to eradicate some of the negative social
This book brings together these two extremely significant aspects of the Cuban
revolutionary process by examining issues of gender and gender relations in six
Cuban films produced between 1974 and 1990. Using close textual analysis
and theoretical insights from feminism and postmodernism, the author argues
that the portrayal of aspects of gender relations in Cuban cinema developed
along a progressive path, from expressions of the modern to expressions of the
postmodern.
ISBN 978-3-0343-0229-6
This book brings together these two extremely significant aspects of the Cuban
revolutionary process by examining issues of gender and gender relations in six
Cuban films produced between 1974 and 1990. Using close textual analysis
and theoretical insights from feminism and postmodernism, the author argues
that the portrayal of aspects of gender relations in Cuban cinema developed
along a progressive path, from expressions of the modern to expressions of the
postmodern.
Volume 38
Edited by
Claudio Canaparo
PETER LANG
Oxford • Bern • Berlin • Bruxelles • Frankfurt am Main • New York • Wien
Guy Baron
PETER LANG
Oxford • Bern • Berlin • Bruxelles • Frankfurt am Main • New York • Wien
Bibliographic information published by Die Deutsche Nationalbibliothek.
Die Deutsche Nationalbibliothek lists this publication in the Deutsche National-
bibliografie; detailed bibliographic data is available on the Internet
at http://dnb.d-nb.de.
A catalogue record for this book is available from the British Library.
Baron, Guy.
Gender in Cuban cinema : from the modern to the postmodern / Guy
Baron.
p. cm. -- (Hispanic studies: culture and ideas ; v. 38)
Includes bibliographical references and index.
Includes filmography.
ISBN 978-3-0343-0229-6 (alk. paper)
1. Motion pictures--Cuba--History--20th century. 2. Sex role in
motion pictures. 3. Masculinity in motion pictures. 4. Motherhood in
motion pictures. I. Title.
PN1993.5.C8B37 2011
791.43097291--dc23
2011027079
ISSN 1661-4720
ISBN 978-3-0343-0229-6 E‐ISBN 978‐3‐0353‐0176‐2
Printed in Germany
Contents
Acknowledgements vii
Introduction 1
Chapter 1
Machismo, Masculinity and the Modern 47
Chapter 2
Machismo on Screen 81
Chapter 3
Sexuality and Motherhood 125
Chapter 4
The Mother on Screen 157
Chapter 5
Cuba and the Postmodern 203
Chapter 6
The Postmodern on Screen 237
Conclusion 287
Bibliography 301
vi
Filmography 317
Index 321
Acknowledgements
Lucía is not a film about women; it’s a film about society. But within that society, I
chose the most vulnerable character, the one who is most transcendentally affected at
any given moment by contradictions and change […] the effects of social transforma-
tions on a woman’s life are more transparent. Because they are traditionally assigned
to a submissive role, women have suf fered more from society’s contradictions and
are thus more sensitive to them and more hungry for change. From this perspective,
I feel that the female character has a great deal of dramatic potential through which
I can express the entire social phenomenon I want to portray. This is a very personal
and a very practical position. It has nothing to do with feminism per se.1
Humberto Solás’s classic film Lucía (1968) provoked the above quota-
tion from the highly acclaimed Cuban film director, who died on 17
September 2008.3 It is cited in many studies of Cuban cinema as it en-
1 Film-maker, and one of the founders of the New Latin American Cinema of the
1960s, Humberto Solás, quoted by Julianne Burton and Marta Alvear (1978: 33) in
an interview with the Cuban director.
2 ‘The duty of a revolutionary film-maker is to make a revolution in cinema’, Cuban
film-maker and theorist Julio García Espinosa (2000: 28).
3 Solás’s film Lucía is considered by world critics as one of the ten most important
films in the history of Spanish American cinema. Some of his major credits as a
director are: Manuela (1966), Cecilia (1981), Un hombre de éxito [A Successful Man]
(1986), El siglo de las luces (1991) [literally ‘The Century of Lights’ but an adaptation
of the Alejo Carpentier novel from 1962 known by the English title Explosion in a
2 Introduction
Cathedral], Miel para Oshún [Honey for Oshún] (2001) and Barrio Cuba [Cuba
Neighbourhood] (2005).
4 See D’Lugo, 1997: 155; Spinella, 2004: 151; Chanan, 1985: 225–6.
Introduction 3
comparison with that of the mother in Retrato de Teresa, six years earlier,
and second, in its bold aesthetic, it illustrates the beginnings of an emerg-
ing critical and resisting postmodernism that continued into the late 1980s
and on into the early 1990s.
Whilst Chapter 5 debates the emergence of postmodern culture in
Cuba, I have discussed both ¡Plaf f! (o demasiado miedo a la vida) and Mujer
transparente in Chapter 6. In ¡Plaf f!, the tradition of allegorising the nation
through female characters is intentionally parodied in postmodern style,
and the film is a direct critique of aspects of the Revolution, including the
status of women within it, while Mujer transparente discusses women’s strug-
gle for equality at one of the most significant moments in Cuba’s history.
It also revisits and reworks, in postmodern style, Humberto Solas’s notion
of the ‘transparent woman’ in Cuban revolutionary cinematic history.
The period of study, 1974–90, is self-evident. 1974 was the year in which
De cierta manera was made, although it was not released until 1978 for rea-
sons that will be made clear in Chapter 2. It was a highly significant film in
Cuba’s history and opens up a wealth of issues concerning gender, gender
relations and machismo in Cuban society. It was made one year before the
law on male–female relations, known as the Código de la Familia [Family
Code] was promulgated (to be discussed shortly), and the time between its
production and its release – 1974–8 – straddle a hugely important period
in Cuban cultural history.
The years 1971–6 were defined by writer and cultural critic Ambrosio
Fornet as the ‘quinquenio gris’ [grey five years] of Cuban cultural produc-
tion: a period of cultural authoritarianism stemming largely from closer
political ties with the Soviet Union, when Cuba’s politics became more dog-
matic and, as Fornet (Chanan, 2004: 313) commented, ‘a vain attempt was
made to implement, along with the Soviet economic model, a sort of criollo
socialist realism’.5 These years were marked by a pathway of rigid ideological
5 Michael Chanan (1985 and 2004) discusses the politics and history of ICAIC
throughout his book on Cuban Cinema. For more on the politics of ICAIC see
Quiros (1996: 279–93). For other general histories of ICAIC see Burton (1997:
123–42); Caballero y Del Río (1995: 102–15), and the of ficial website of ICAIC:
<http://www.cinecubano.com>.
Introduction 5
and cultural thought, and the 1971 Congress of Education and Culture
proclaimed art as ‘un arma de la Revolución’ [a weapon of the Revolution],
declaring such activities as homosexuality (and any others not in accord
with the revolutionary process) as extravagant and counter-revolutionary.
However, after the Ministry of Culture was set up in 1976, there began a
process of cultural institutionalisation alongside the ‘Institutionalisation’
of the Revolution, with a huge expansion of cultural activities.6
As Michael Chanan (1985: 16) remarks, in 1977, in a country with only
10 million people, ‘there were over 46,000 professional artistic perform-
ances that recorded an attendance of almost 12 million, and nearly 270,000
aficionado performances with an attendance of almost 48 million.’
De cierta manera was made during the ‘grey five years’ but was not
released until after the process of institutionalisation had been put in place.
This, combined with the introduction of the Family Code in 1975, and
the fact that one of the central concerns of the film is the prevalence of
machismo in Cuban revolutionary society, makes it the perfect place to
start an examination of gender relations.
It is very convenient to end this study in 1990, as it was the year in
which the final film to be discussed, Mujer transparente, was released. It
is a film that pays much attention to Solás’s opening quotation and was
supervised by the great director himself. It was also released shortly after the
collapse of the Berlin Wall, a symbolic event that ushered in the collapse of
the Soviet Union, provoking enormous changes in Cuban society. What
came next (the ‘Special Period’) falls outside the remit of this book. The
last two chapters, however, deal with the emergence of postmodernism in
6 After the failure in 1970 to produce a targeted 10m tons of sugar, Cuba joined
COMECON (Council for Mutual Economic Assistance – an economic organisa-
tion of Communist states) in 1972 and moved from a so-called ‘moral economy’
based on moral imperatives to work, to a more incentivised economy. This became
formalised ‘in the various moves of 1975–6’ (Kapcia, 2000: 193) in the process of
institutionalisation of the Revolution’s practices, that included, in 1976, the forma-
tion of the Ministry of Culture, and the subsequent decentralisation of publishing
houses in the world of literature.
6 Introduction
Cuba and in Cuban cinema and, in this way, point towards the impending
changes that were to occur after 1990.
One of the goals of this study is to illustrate how, through the prism
of the gender debate presented on film, Cuban cinema both ref lected and
produced some of the central ideological concerns within the nation’s
society during this period (1974–90). It will be possible to see, through
the examination of six films of the period, how the gender debate both
helps to create and, at the same time, makes reference to, more general
cultural debates on the island. As such, the issues around gender explored
through Cuban cinema can be seen as one of the most important cultural
topics of this period.
The importance of cinema to the development of the Cuban Revolution
cannot be overstated and the significance of the debate on gender and
gender relations within it plays a crucial part in Cuba’s revolutionary cul-
tural evolution. It is necessary, therefore, to consider how Cuban cinema
developed its particular framework for expressing issues of gender on-screen,
and why such a topic became one of the most important areas of expression,
from the inception of a Cuban national film institute until at least the early
1990s. A brief outline of the growth and progression of the Institute will
serve to establish the context within which this book operates.
7 Chanan takes the term ‘direct democracy’ from Jean-Paul Sartre, C. Wright Mills,
and Paul Baran, who all described the socio-political state of Cuba in this way in
the 1960s. As Chanan (2000) states this was, ‘a fair enough, though inadequate,
description of a social system in embryonic form still trying to establish itself.’
8 Cinema in Cuba is not made entirely by ICAIC. As Juan Antonio García Borrero
(2001: 11) points out, films are also produced by the Estudios Cinematográficos
de Televisión de las Fuerzas Armadas Revolucionarias [Revolutionary Armed
Forces Television and Cinema Studios](ECTVFAR); la Escuela Internacional de
Cine y Televisión [International School of Cinema and Television] (EICTV), at
San Antonio de los Baños, outsider Havana; los Estudios Cinematográficos de la
Televisión [Television Cinema Studios] (ECTV); el Taller de cine de la Asociación
Hermanos Saíz (TCAHS) [Cinema Workshop of the Saíz Brothers Association], as
well as via co-productions with other countries, and in small ‘cine-clubs’. However,
ICAIC has been the major power in Cuban cinema since its formation, its films
having more national and international significance than any others. This work
8 Introduction
the smaller ones became cooperatives under the government. This was the
only way to guarantee the production and distribution of Cuban national
cinema. To enable the rural population to watch films, mobile cinemas were
taken to remote parts of the countryside where a variety of films (including
Charlie Chaplin classics) were introduced to those that had never before
seen them.10 John King (1990: 150) quotes Fidel Castro: ‘The work of the
mobile cinemas is the most interesting experience in the formulation of
a new public.’
ICAIC was set up because the Revolution’s leaders understood, as did
Lenin, the value of cinema in promoting the ideals of a new socialist move-
ment.11 In essence ICAIC wanted to create a cinema with national char-
acteristics. However, it would take nearly ten years before Cuban cinema
asserted itself with the production in 1968 of the films Memorias del sub�
desarrollo [Memories of Underdevelopment], by Tomás Gutiérrez Alea
and Lucía. Cuban cinema, García Espinosa (2000a: 8) asserts, arrived at
modernity in the 1960s almost from nothing and became a very important
tool in developing a revolutionary consciousness. It helped transform a large
majority of the Cuban people from a nation of viewers, dumbfounded by
their first experience of cinematography, to that of active participants in a
revolutionary process. A part of this process, as we shall see, included the
eradication of certain negative tendencies, some of which, like machismo
for example, are displayed in relations between men and women. The pro-
duction of films, then, that presented these issues to an increasingly critical
audience, became an important part of ICAIC’s raison d’être.
In line with Chanan’s division of Cuban cultural periods into separate
decades, the early years of ICAIC represent a period of experimentation,
using various artistic styles and filmic content, in a search for an appropriate
10 Octavio Cortázar’s 1967 short film Por primera vez [For the First Time] illustrates
the use of the mobile cinemas, and ‘[…] produced for its audience a vision of its own
self-discovery as an audience’ (Chanan, 1985: 14).
11 Michael Chanan (1985: 15) comments that for Lenin it was film that helped develop
the mission of the Soviet Union as Lenin said: ‘for us, film is the most important of
all the arts.’ This is not simple propaganda, Chanan argues, but a way of mobilising
energy towards a new way of life.
10 Introduction
genre that might best serve the requirements of a national film institute
firmly attached to the revolutionary process and searching for ways to
express this new radicalisation of society. As Chanan (2000) says: ‘What
happened in the 1960s was that the triumph of the Revolution completely
recast civil society precisely because it radicalised the political domain in
a manner that redefined the political subject and the character of citizen-
ship’. The first president of ICAIC, Alfredo Guevara, was a college friend of
Fidel Castro, and the early film-makers were Julio García Espinosa, Tomás
Gutiérrez Alea, Jorge Haydu, Jorge Fraga, Néstor Almendros and Santiago
Álvarez, amongst others. Both García Espinosa and Gutiérrez Alea had
studied cinema in Rome and were inf luenced by the European avant-garde
style of film-making and Italian neo-realism in particular.12
Thus, during the 1960s, a process of social revolution was being devel-
oped that could also be seen in the so-called ‘Boom’ of Latin American
literature at the same time. But, although many aspects of Cuban cinema
throughout the 1960s were extraordinary in their revolutionary aspirations,
techniques and, indeed, results, the images of male–female relations pro-
duced in the popular films of this period often sit uncomfortably along-
side this ‘revolutionary’ practice. It is questionable whether the cultural
modernity that García Espinosa rightly posits as being combined with this
sense of social revolution (a modernity stemming from economic growth
and industrial development, derived from Marxism) stretched as far as
the development of new and radical images of male–female relations that
might have aided the drive towards egalitarian politics.
12 In 1960, ICAIC made its first feature films, of which the first to be shown (though
it was the second to be completed) was Gutiérrez Alea’s Historias de la revolución
[Stories of the Revolution], made in the Italian neo-realist style. As Jaskari (1997)
comments: ‘The inspiration of Italian neo-realism came from the desire to expose the
true face of the nation from behind the façade of development, to create the “cinema
of the humble” and discover on film the Italy of underdevelopment’. Julio García
Espinosa (2000a: 203) believes that the New Latin American Cinema movement of
the 1950s and 1960s was heavily inf luenced by Italian neo-realism. He argues that it
was a useful way of filming with few resources, no ef fects or stars. It of fered a cinema
of resistance and a spirit of change, but, ultimately, was limited in developing a new
narration specific to the Cuban problematic.
Introduction 11
Films that take as one of their central concerns issues of gender rela-
tions, have formed a significant and disproportionate part of ICAIC’s
feature-film production. Indeed, Jean Stubbs (1995: 3) believes that ‘it is
probably safe to say that hardly a single film has not addressed, in some
way or another, changing gender relations within the Revolution.’ This is a
strong claim and has a great deal of truth in it, although the presentation of
gender relations is not, of course, the main objective of many Cuban films.
However, such has been the ferocity of debate surrounding the subject
throughout the Revolution (and particularly during the mid-1970s–mid-
1980s) that any film presenting any relations at all between men and women
(and what film does not?) can be viewed with this debate in mind.
Catherine Benamou (1999: 67) also believes the issue of gender has
been fundamental to the development of a revolutionary society but ques-
tions whether issues of dif ference along lines of gender, race, or sexual
preference have been adequately explored at an institutional level in Cuba
or whether there should be more ‘autonomous spaces within which diverse
subjectivities and identities need to be represented.’ So, has Cuba been
too concerned with its search for an independent ‘cubanness’ (a singular
identity in defence of itself against cultural imperialism) that it has failed
to consider suf ficiently the various diverse spaces of dif ference that exist in
a debate as wide and complex as that of gender? This is one of the central
questions of this book.
Despite the revolutionary practices carried out at the level of form
and construction, it can be argued that most of the films of the 1960s do
not portray radical or novel images of gender relations. A brief outline of
three of the most important films of the first decade of the Revolution
will serve to present an initial idea of how gender relations were first dealt
with in the new, radicalising Cuban cinema; from here it will be possible to
establish how these representations evolved through the 1970s and 1980s.
If one considers the images of woman presented in these films, at a time
in the history of Latin America when the cultural space was being increas-
ingly shaped by new and exciting aesthetic forms and practices, perhaps
the risks taken were subsumed by a desire for wholeness, oneness, in the
creation of a Latin American sentimentality: a desire for a solution to the
continent’s problems that overlooked the concerns of ‘marginalised’ groups,
12 Introduction
such as women. For it must be argued that, in cinema at least, women were
left on the fringes, both in terms of production and, as we shall see now in
the case of three Cuban films, where the image of Woman is concerned,
in terms of reception.
A brief analysis of three of the most important films of the 1960s will
serve to locate the relationship between Cuban cinema and its representa-
tions of gender relations and will provide a backdrop for the analysis of the
films that are central to this study. If we take, for example, the film Aventuras
de Juan Quin Quin [Adventures of Juan Quin Quin] (1967) by Julio García
Espinosa, one of Cuba’s most important film-makers and film theorists –
former head of both ICAIC and of the film school, Escuela Internacional
de Cine y Televisión (EICTV) at San Antonio de Los Baños – it would
appear that its highly experimental nature often subverts any attempt to
display woman as anything other than a feminine object.
As Chanan (1985: 209) states, Aventuras… was ‘Cuban cinema’s first
fully accomplished experimental film’ and also a comedy. The film represents
García Espinosa’s attempt to unite pure entertainment with a revolution-
ary aesthetic and is a precursor to his essay on the development of a film
style pertinent to the contemporary Cuban reality (written after the film
was made), which is entitled ‘Por un cine imperfecto’ [For an Imperfect
Cinema].13 Aventuras… is a parody of Hollywood cinema genres, this parody
being designed to produce a highly artificial and comical aesthetic, with
the viewer’s attention being deliberately drawn to this artificiality and
cinematic illusion.14
But the parody is often undermined by the film’s apparent support
(without the irony that is attached to the male characters) of conventional
notions of female representation. As Taylor (1979) argues, there are areas of
underdevelopment that the film still evades, and a straight reproduction of
certain codes of behaviour (albeit tinged with an ironic aesthetic) is simply
not enough to break with traditional codes. Where they appear, the women
characters feature as asides, aids or confectionery for the revolutionary hero
and others. If the truth of this film lies in its brilliantly funny ironic swipe
at capitalist culture then a part of that truth is left out.
Before 1974, the most significant film to address issues of gender rela-
tions was Solas’s Lucía (1968). It is divided into three parts, each part being
set during a significant time in Cuba’s history.15 In each of the parts the
principal character is a woman whose personal life serves as a backdrop to
a narrative that opens up questions about Cuban national identity at each
significant historical moment. Like Aventuras… it is a highly experimental
film that is made using a variety of dif ferent styles and techniques and is
‘one of the films that supports and defines the ideals of promoting a radical
new vision’ (Martin and Paddington, 2001: 2).16
In Part One the character Lucía is finally driven to murder her lover,
a man who represents the Spanish colonisation of Cuba. Here, ‘Woman’
and ‘Nation’ are fused, i.e. the female figure is mobilised to function as
national allegory, and driven through circumstances to take up arms in a
collective, hysterical moment of revenge against oppression. In Part Two,
Lucía joins the fight against dictator Machado in 1933, and develops a
female solidarity with her factory colleagues, but is ultimately alienated
by her lover and remains eternally trapped in a one-sided relationship with
him, and marginalised by the processes of revolution. In Part Three, she
becomes physically trapped by her jealous husband, who refuses to let her
out of the house, only for the Revolution (in the form of her other female
work colleagues who represent its drive to get women into the workforce)
to rescue her from this traditional machista behaviour.
Although the film is replete with images of revolution and change (a
revolution conducted by men), for the women in the film the process of
liberation is more one of ‘evolution’ than ‘revolution’ as many of the old
principles appear very dif ficult to break. But Lucía, unlike Aventuras… is
trying to develop possibilities for a new definition of gender relations within
15 Part One is set in 1895 during the Wars of Independence, Part Two in 1932 during
the overthrow of dictator Gerardo Machado, and Part Three in the 1960s in the first
few years of the Revolution.
16 For more on the aesthetics of Lucía see Chanan (2004: 275–88).
14 Introduction
17 For various takes on Memorias … see: Chanan (2004: 288–302); Lesage (1979);
Sharman (2007).
18 Chapters 5 and 6 discuss the questioning of the very notion of subjectivity and the
possibilities for its representation in film.
Introduction 15
available to ICAIC and, as Chanan (1985: 256) points out, there were
twenty-four documentaries made in 1970 and only one thirty-minute
fiction film, plus one animation. In 1971, however, there were five fiction
films produced, including José Massip’s Páginas del diario de José Martí
[Pages From the Diary of José Martí], Los días del agua [The days of Water]
(Manuel Octavio Gómez), and Gutiérrez Alea’s Una pelea cubana contra los
demonios [A Cuban Fight Against the Demons]. These helped to develop
the anti-colonial, nationalistic intent of Cuban cinema at this time.21
Historical films were prominent in the 1970s. Perhaps this points to a
desire on the one hand to avoid commentary on contemporary events, or
on the other hand to redefine and relocate Cuban history in the manner
described by Chanan. El otro Francisco [The Other Francisco] (1974, Sergio
Giral) forms part of this historical reconstruction, along with Giral’s other
two features in the 1970s, Rancheador [Slave Runner] (1977) and Maluala
(1979). The battle, then, was not only fought in the mountains and at
Playa Girón, and subsequently on the international stage, but was also
being fought in the cultural arena – but nowhere more visibly than in the
cinemas. Both Burton and John Hess (Burton, 1997: 131) argue that the
1970s was marked by artistic decline in an ‘attempt to define and produce
a people’s culture’, as ICAIC lost a degree of the autonomy it had expe-
rienced during the ‘golden era’ of the 1960s. So it does appear that both
political necessity and socialist practice were evident in the film-makers’
choice of genre and topic at least in the early part of the 1970s as the film
El hombre de Maisinicú [The Man of Maisinicú] (1973) by Manuel Pérez
21 Many of the documentaries produced in the early 1970s had clear and evident over-
tones of the philosophies of José Martí, illustrating a desire to forge a new identity
for Cuba through the medium of film – an attempt to relocate the nation away from
its colonial past. In feature films too, this process is evident. Páginas del diario de José
Martí is an expressionistic homage to the Cuban hero, a ‘truly hallucinatory film’
as Chanan argues (1985: 258) while Una pelea cubana contra los demonios forms part
of what Chanan calls ‘cine rescate’ in its attempt to rescue the image of Cuba from
its colonial past (ibid.). Los días del agua by Manuel Octavio Gómez also deals with
a reformulation of Cuban identity, using a real historic event of the 1930s to point
to the ease with which ordinary people can be exploited by political and religious
opportunism.
Introduction 17
had been underway for some time and the themes (and forms) had been
overused and overplayed.
One film during the 1970s that does present some criticism of a con-
temporary reality and could well have been included in this work, how-
ever, is Manuel Octavio Gómez’s, Una mujer, un hombre, una ciudad [A
Woman, a Man, a City] (1973). Complex and with a contemporary focus,
it is a film that explores the physical modernisation of Cuba via the inter-
actions between architects, male and female, who are constructing the
houses of the future and, as Chanan (2004: 275) states, ‘takes the role of
women very seriously’. However, an analysis is not included here as space
does not allow it. All six of the other films discussed pay far more atten-
tion to issues of gender per se and Una mujer, un hombre, una ciudad has a
tendency to idealise the figure of the ‘New Woman’ of the Revolution as
the ‘model imagined by men’ (ibid.).
But, out of the so-called ‘grey five years’ of the early to mid-1970s, came
De cierta manera, a film regarded by many to be one of the most important
in Cuba’s cinema history and that, as Caballero and Del Río (1995: 104) say,
started the move, in the latter part of the 1970s, towards popular cinema
and certainly started the first wave of anti-machista films that appeared in
the 1980s. This film will be discussed in more detail in Chapter 2 and is
certainly one of the most important films regarding the representation of
male–female relations to ever come out of Cuba – not least because, up
until the production of Ciudad en rojo [City in Red] by Rebeca Chávez
in 2009, it was the only full length feature film from ICAIC to have been
directed entirely by a Cuban woman.
The early part of the 1970s was a confusing and slightly troubled time
for ICAIC, finding its feet after the heady experimentalism of the 1960s
but not knowing in which particular direction to step next. Chanan delves
into this rather more deeply in the second edition of his book on Cuban
cinema, commenting that the 1970s saw the production of several dif ferent
genres of films but with a conspicuous absence of contemporary subjects.
However, this makes for an extremely interesting period in Cuba’s cinematic
history – some would say more interesting than in the more prolific days
of the 1980s, when production rose dramatically but, thematically, there
was perhaps less diversity and a move towards more popular cinema.
Introduction 19
The end of the 1970s was a significant point in the history of Cuban
cinema, with the launch of the first Festival of New Latin American Cinema
in Havana, a festival that has grown every year to become the most impor-
tant event in the calendar for Latin American and Cuban cinema. Seen
as a promotion of the concepts delineated by Latin American film theo-
rists such as Jorge Sanjinés, Julio García Espinosa, Fernando Solanas and
Octavio Getino, the festival can be described as a post-colonial of fensive
against the Hollywood/Europe monopoly that cannot deal with the type
of repression suf fered by Latin American countries.
But, if the 1980s kicked of f positively with an af firmation of all that
was good in Latin American cinema, ICAIC was soon to be grappling
with a polemic that saw the removal of Alfredo Guevara as president. It all
revolved around the attempt to make a big budget spectacular in order to
sell around the world. Guevara put a whole year’s budget into the making
of Cecilia, directed by Humberto Solás. Adapted from Cirilo Villaverde’s
well-known and loved nineteenth-century novel Cecilia Valdés, the film
failed as it drifted markedly from the original story thereby upsetting, as
Chanan (2004: 388) remarks, ‘both the traditionalist and popular audi-
ences’. Guevara was dismissed as president and replaced by García Espinosa,
although neither the Institute nor Solás himself suf fered to any degree, both
getting on with the job of making more films. Perhaps this illustrates the
extent to which ICAIC was seen at the time as an important part of Cuba’s
cultural make-up and something that needed to be reformed rather than
removed, with artistic experimentation and risk-taking still being seen as an
essential duty of the film-maker. With García Espinosa as president, ICAIC
set about mending the damage done by the after-ef fects of Cecilia.
This period of the Cuban Revolution was marked by the Mariel exodus
of 1980 when 120,000 people were allowed by the Cuban government to
leave the country in a makeshift f lotilla to Miami after a period of dis-
content with the Cuban economy. So, in a moment of political instabil-
ity, both within ICAIC and the nation as a whole, how would García
Espinosa handle the running of one of the government’s most important
and inf luential cultural bodies? He began by increasing production using
low budgets, time restraints and fresh creative blood, although one of
the first films under his jurisdiction, Amada (1983), was directed by the
20 Introduction
experienced Solás. Amada is another historical drama and love story, set
in 1928 and is interesting for its psychological study of the main protago-
nist and for its optimistic ending, with the people taking to the streets in
protest at the worsening economic situation in Cuba.
But perhaps the most inf luential film of the early 1980s is Hasta cierto
punto which, as García Osuna (2003: 105) states, ‘gives a pessimistic account
of the ef fort by the government to change basic attitudes in the population’.
A film about sexism, machismo and the dif ficulty of changing entrenched
social codes, it is partly a homage to Gómez’s De cierta manera, and employs
similar techniques in mixing documentary and fiction, but is also a critique
of ICAIC itself, as we shall see in its detailed examination in Chapter 2.
Gutiérrez Alea had recently written his own Marxist theory on cinema
called Dialéctica del espectador [The Viewer’s Dialectic], in 1982, arguing
that film should create a shift from everyday reality to fictional reality, where
one informs the other, ‘a kind of formal credo of an independent Marxist
intellectual’ (Chanan, 2004: 407). This is discussed further in Chapter 1,
but in his book Gutiérrez Alea profoundly problematises the art of the
film-maker, arguing that the old juxtaposition of form and content is far
too simplistic to be relevant to a Cuban reality.
At the beginning of the 1980s, then, it was García Espinosa’s plan
to move away from the experimentalism of the 1960s and the historical
recovery of the 1970s, to make more popular (rather than populist) films,
popular in the sense that they dealt with popular issues (such as gender
relations). In this sense the films of the 1980s were most certainly aimed
at producing a dialogue with the spectator. Se permuta [House Swap]
(1983, Juan Carlos Tabío) is a contemporary comedy about the dif ficulty
of moving house in Havana, as a single mother desires to move upmarket
to a better neighbourhood. The film was seen by more than two million
people in Cuba (with a population of 11 million) and was a commercial hit,
being both funny and critical of a contemporary reality, easily identified
by the audience (ibid. 411). The following year, Rolando Díaz released his
first feature, Los pájaros tirándole a la escopeta [Tables Turned] that drew
an audience of nearly three million and again was an acclaimed hit (ibid.).
Díaz’s film is a generational comedy and again critical of a modern-day
Introduction 21
reality, hence its popularity. Both films have simple and fairly traditional
narrative structures, using popular and contemporary themes.
García Espinosa’s policies were appearing to work and eight feature
films were released in 1984 (ibid. 413). During the 1980s, there were approxi-
mately forty features produced by ICAIC that covered a variety of film
genres, from historical drama (e.g. Cecilia) to contemporary social comedy
(e.g. Se permuta, Los pájaros tirándole a la escopeta), historical satire (e.g.
Un hombre de éxito [A Successful Man], 1986, Humberto Solás), and social
commentary (e.g. Habanera [Havana Woman], 1984, Pastor Vega, and
Lejanía. As Davies states, at this point in its history ICAIC seemed to be
‘broadening its appeal at the expense of its thematic and linguistic audac-
ity’ (1997: 346).
Thus, there was a renewal in style and content in the 1980s that pro-
duced a number of films critical of a contemporary reality. Some, like Los
pájaros tirándole a la escopeta, could have been included in this work in far
more detail but, again, space does not permit it as around the same time,
both Hasta cierto punto and Lejanía were released. Both of these last two
films are extremely important regarding gender relations and could not have
been replaced. The important thing about the films Se permuta and Los
pájaros…, though, is that they opened the way for topical Cuban comedy
because they attack bad habits under socialism, and are contemporary and
immediate (Paranagua, 1988: 91–3). They prepared the ground for the
production of the best of all the social comedies in the 1980s, ¡Plaf f ! (o
demasiado miedo a la vida), which is analysed in detail in Chapter 6.
Habanera is also a film that could figure in any discussion of gender
relations in Cuban cinema as it deals with a woman’s desire, her psycho-
logical introspection and how she can be incorporated into the revolution-
ary process (Caballero y Del Río, 1995: 104), while Otra mujer [Another
Woman] (1986, Daniel Díaz Torres) portrays a couple’s conf lict and mas-
culine infidelity (Paranagua, 1988: 91).
Lejanía, about exile and the relationship between an émigré mother
and her son, was one of the most interesting films to come out of this
period during the mid-1980s and is discussed at length in Chapter 4. Later,
in 1988, ¡Plaf f ! set out to parody the very idea of using female characters
to represent the nation.
22 Introduction
What is evident from this period are the number of films dealing with
social concerns (generational conf lict, the pain of exile, housing problems,
inter-marital relations etc.), attributed by some observers to the maturation
of new film-makers, uninhibited by the necessity of recreating a new his-
tory for Cuba, and with the desire to question and even criticise aspects of
the Revolution (Aufderheide, 1989: 498). I have chosen Hasta cierto punto,
Lejanía, ¡Plaf f ! and Mujer transparente from this period as I feel they best
give a sense of the overall changes occurring in ICAIC over this time and,
indeed, in Cuban culture as a whole. We can witness, in this maturation
of film-makers, through the prism of male–female relations, an evident
move from expressions of the modern – in support of the relatively young
revolutionary process – in films like De cierta manera, or Retrato de Teresa,
for example, to expressions of the postmodern, which cast a critical and
questioning eye over many aspects of the Marxist revolutionary project
in some of the films of the late 1980s, including ¡Plaf f ! and Mujer trans�
parente. Comedy was one of the genres used to make this type of critical
social commentary, illustrating a light-hearted way of handling societal
problems.22
In 1986, as the economy suf fered increasingly from the tightening US
blockade, and the Soviet Union entered into perestroika and glasnost, Cuba’s
period called the ‘Rectification of Past Errors and Negative Tendencies’
(Kapcia, 2008: 42) began. This was a process of ‘deep reassessment’ (ibid.)
that included an austerity programme, the reduction of permits given for
private businesses (with a corresponding increase in the enticement of
foreign investment in cooperation with the Cuban government), a denun-
ciation of the USSR’s ‘betrayal of Marxism-Leninism’, and an attempt to
reinvigorate conciencia [consciousness] via an ideological purification of
the population (Bunck, 1994: 18). As Julie Bunck points out, at the Third
Party Congress in 1986, Castro called for a rebirth of ‘consciousness, a
22 This comedy turned more satirical in the early 1990s and took one step too many as
far as the authorities were concerned with the release of A�����������������������������
licia en el pueblo de maravi�
llas [Alicia in Wondertown] by Daniel Díaz Torres, a ‘scathingly satirical’ film ‘about
the society created by Castro’s revolution’ (García Osuna, 2003: 53), that was pulled
from the cinemas after three days.
Introduction 23
backdrop to the examination of how gender issues are presented on the big
screen. If, as García Espinosa (2000a: 201) argues, the project of human
emancipation characterises modernity, then it will be interesting to analyse
whether or not Cuban cinema provides evidence of such emancipation
through a period of rapid modernisation in Cuba’s history.
Cuba has been and continues to be a type of social laboratory in the way
that it has undertaken, for a number of generations, multiple economic and
social transformations. Amongst these, the incorporation of women into all
aspects of the revolutionary process has been one of the most important.
To that end, the Cuban Women’s Federation, the Federación de Mujeres
Cubanas (FMC) was set up in 1961, led by Vilma Espín, wife of Raúl Castro,
and has always been seen as part of the revolutionary vanguard.23
Since the triumph of the 1959 Revolution, Cuban society has been
centred on the notion of solidaridad. Solidarity for Cuban society is the
basic principle of human co-existence, the opposite of individualism that is
seen as simply egotism. Cuban women have been seen as essential contribu-
tors to the demands of the Revolution. Yolanda Ferrer (1998b), Secretary
General of the FMC, comments: ‘Nuestro papel en la sociedad es contribuir
a hacer realidad en todos los ámbitos y a todos los niveles, el ejército pleno
de la igualdad de la mujer […] trabajar por el fortalecimiento de la familia
[…] y defender esta Revolución que desde su triunfo se situó como obje-
tivo de especial importancia enaltecer a la mujer y garantizar que ocupará
el lugar que le corresponde en la vida nacional’ [Our role in society is to
contribute to the realisation, in all spheres and at all levels of society, of the
complete exercise of women’s equality […] to work for the strengthening of
the family […] and to defend this Revolution that since its triumph has set
as a particular object of importance the praise of women and to guarantee
that they will occupy their rightful place in national life].
Before 1959, as Bunck (1994: 89) asserts, going back as far as the early
1930s, women in Cuba compared well in status with other Latin American
countries. They received the vote in 1934 before all but Uruguay, Brazil and
23 For a more detailed history of the FMC see Azicri (1998: 457–71); McCaughan
(1998); and the website of the FMC at: <www.mujeres.cubaweb.cu>.
Introduction 25
Ecuador. There were similar numbers of female and male students between
the ages of five and fifteen, and literacy levels for women were higher than
men at around 79 per cent (only Argentina had a higher female literacy
rate). More women worked outside the home than in most other Latin
American nations. They were elected to the House of Representatives and
the Senate, were mayors, judges, cabinet members, and local councillors. The
1940 Constitution, which prohibited discrimination and called for equal
pay, was one of the most progressive in the western hemisphere regarding
women’s rights. But, she comments, there were certain inequalities, and
women were far from equal in terms of the power wielded in the govern-
ing of the state, and they were usually relegated to subordinate roles. There
was an authoritarian and patriarchal family structure that was a product
of the Hispanic legacy and highly inf luential, especially in the rural areas
that made up more than 43 per cent of the population. Infidelity amongst
men was accepted but not tolerated amongst women. Machismo was seen
as a good quality in this society – ‘a Latin notion of male superiority and
aggressiveness demonstrated by virility, strength, confidence, courage, and
power. Young girls were expected to be gracious, attractive, retiring, virtu-
ous, and virgin’ (ibid. 91).24 Women only made up some 17 per cent of the
labour force in 1959, the majority of these working in traditionally female
occupations such as nursing, teaching and domestic service (ibid.).
After 1 January 1959 the majority of the female population of Cuba
supported the Revolution, as the promotion of women into the public
domain was an evident goal of the Castro government. As Espín (1990: 90)
commented: ‘En 1959, el primer año de la Revolución, nosotros sentimos
con mucha fuerza la presión de las mujeres que deseaban unirse, organi-
zarse para participar mejor en las tareas de la Revolución’ [In 1959, the first
year of the Revolution, we felt very strongly the pressure from women that
wished to unite and organise themselves in order to participate more fully
in the tasks of the Revolution].
The Federation sees itself as struggling alongside men, rather than against
them, to arrive at the transformation of both women and the world in
which they live. Theirs is a popular brand of feminism, a concentration
on the contribution of women to the process of changing their disadvan-
tageous position and removing age-old negative traits concerning gender
issues, in order to participate in and defend the Revolution and its leaders.
‘[F]idel ha estado siempre, sistemáticamente, planteando con mucha fuerza
la necesidad de que estos rasgos se borren en nuestra sociedad’ [Fidel has
systematically always insisted upon the necessity that these traits be eradi-
cated from our society] (ibid. 16).
Some of the achievements of the FMC have been impressive and it
is important to analyse the most relevant ways in which the situation of
women in Cuba has been advanced in the last four decades, at the same
time as demonstrating how a patriarchal culture has been perpetuated and
has therefore provided points of detainment to this social progress.
In the first years of the Revolution, the idea of the liberation or eman-
cipation of women was deliberately not discussed. However, since 1959: ‘[…]
se habían establecido, a nivel gubernamental, políticas generales y sectori-
ales en correspondencia con la estrategia cubana de desarrollo económico
y social que incluía como un derecho inalienable de las mujeres, participar
en la vida económica, política, cultural y social del país, en igualdad de
oportunidades y posibilidades que los hombres’25 [general and sectorial
policies had been established, at governmental level, to correspond to the
Cuban strategy of economic and social development, that included as
an inalienable right of women, the right to participate in the economic,
political, cultural and social life of the country, with equal opportunities
and possibilities to that of men].
The FMC from its beginnings assumed the role of changing the dis-
criminatory mentality against women as well as consolidating them as a
force of civil transformation. In 1961 the FMC had about 17,000 members,
a number that grew to approximately three million by the 1990s (Leiner,
25 FMC (1996), ‘Las cubanas de Beijing al 2000. Conferencia ofrecida por Vilma Espín.
III Congreso. Ciudad de La Habana’: 2 (booklet).
28 Introduction
26 For example the ministry of work not only overcame any restrictions to access for
women to traditionally masculine jobs, but promoted regulations that actively
favoured the incorporation of women, protecting their rights and guaranteeing
equality of opportunity and remuneration. Work legislation did not accept any
discrimination whatsoever regarding salaries, promotions etc. Also, the creation
of creche’s (círculos infantiles) in 1961 and the system of semi-boarding schools are
decisive elements in the massification of the incorporation of women into the public
life of work (Abreu, 2006: 2–5).
Introduction 29
by the FMC, Mujeres (Mujeres, 1998: 24), makes a comment on the 1997
Communist Party congress: ‘Por ello concebimos este congreso como el
mayor acicate para fortalecer la participación de los obreros, cooperativis-
tas, campesinos, jubilados y particularmente de la mujer cubana, heroína
indiscutible del Período Especial, en el desarrollo de la economía, la defensa
y de nuestra democracia socialista’ [As such we conceive this congress as
the major incentive to strengthen the participation of workers, those who
work in cooperatives, peasants, the retired and particularly Cuban women,
indisputable heroines of the Special Period, in the development of the
economy, defence and of our socialist democracy].
The reference to women being classed alongside the most marginalised
groups in society can be read in dif ferent ways: as an acceptance of the low
level of regard in which women are held, along with the knowledge that
this must change rapidly, or as evidence of the nature of a paternalistic,
hierarchical order. It could also be interpreted as the belief and acceptance
within Cuban society that men and women are inherently dif ferent and
that this dif ference should be celebrated. The fact that this comment was
made in a magazine written by a body that serves to protect the rights of
women nearly forty years after the triumph of the Revolution points to
the latter. But does this acceptance of dif ference have negative overtones,
whereby the upholding of it could be used against women to further the
cause of a patriarchal order? This is one of the problems that I hope to tease
out in the analysis of some of the films in this work.
One of the problems that could arise in an acceptance of dif ference is
that the social mores of a machista tradition could continue in a society that
is continually trying to promote egalitarian principles. This possible con-
tradiction is illustrated in the following quote from the magazine Mujeres
(ibid. 30): ‘Y es que desde los días del Moncada y luego en la sierra y la
lucha clandestina, Fidel defendió el derecho de la mujer a participar como
una combatiente más, a pesar de resquemores e incluso incomprensión
de muchos guerrilleros’ [And since the days of Moncada and later in the
mountains, in the clandestine struggle, Fidel defended the right of women
to participate as simply another fighter, despite the resentment and even
incomprehension of many guerrilla fighters].
30 Introduction
Fidel Castro (Stone, 1981: 48) himself has called the struggle for female
equality the ‘revolution within the Revolution’27 and has spoken of their
‘participation’ in the great struggle against capitalism and the West. As
Castro (Mujeres, 1998: 3) said in 1962:
Las mujeres dentro de la sociedad tienen intereses que son comunes a todos los miem-
bros de la sociedad; pero tienen también intereses que son propios de las mujeres.
Sobre todo, cuando se trata de crear una sociedad distinta, de organizar un mundo
mejor para todos los seres humanos, las mujeres tienen intereses muy grandes en ese
esfuerzo, porque, entre otras cosas, la mujer constituye un sector que en el mundo
capitalista en que vivíamos estaba discriminado. En el mundo que estamos constru-
yendo, es necesario que desaparezca todo vestigio de discriminación de la mujer.
[Women within society have interests that are common to all members of society;
but they also have specifically women’s interests. Above all, when one is dealing with
the creation of a distinct society, of organising a better world for all human beings,
women have enormous interests in this ef fort, because, amongst other things, in the
capitalist world in which we live, women constitute a sector that is discriminated
against. In the world that we are constructing it is important that all vestiges of dis-
crimination against women disappear.]
27 Castro made this comment at a speech at the closing of the Fifth National Plenary
of the FMC, in 1966. The whole speech is translated into English in Stone (1981:
48–54).
Introduction 31
an important decade for the FMC, as important laws were created that
transformed the juridical situation of women and eliminated injustices
exclusively derived from the condition of gender. Such reforms included
the Ley de Maternidad [Maternity Law] (1974), Family Code (1975), Ley
de Protección e higiene del trabajo [Protection and Hygiene and Work Law]
(1977), Ley de Seguridad Social y Código Penal [Law of Social Security and
the Penal Code] (1979).
Important to the general debate on gender relations in Cuba from the
mid-1970s was the Family Code that was created in order to try and legis-
late for equality of the sexes within the home, an extremely bold attempt
at taking the socialist Revolution into the private sphere. Symbolically
presented to the president of the FMC, Vilma Espín, in the International
Year of the Woman (1975) on 8 March (‘Women’s Day’), it was set up to
formally present the ‘rights and duties of husband and wife’, where marriage
must be underpinned by full equality and demands loyalty, consideration,
respect and mutual help (Azicri, 1989: 458). The care of the family and the
upbringing of the children should be shared ‘according to principles of
socialist morality’ (ibid.). According to Julianne Burton (1994: 108), the
code had three principal aims in mind: to preserve and strengthen family
ties, to transfer some of the housework duties to the father, and to increase
citizen participation in government politics. Designed, as Azicri (1989: 468)
argues, to counter traditional attitudes rooted in cultural values (attitudes
such as male chauvinism), part of the code included legislation to increase
the collectivisation of domestic duties. ‘[…] if one of them (husband or
wife) only contributes by working at home and caring for the children, the
other partner must contribute to this support alone, without prejudice to
his duty of cooperating in the above mentioned work and care’.
This came in response to the many complaints by women that the
Revolution’s desire to enable women to enter the workplace on an equal
footing with men had simply created what was known as the ‘double-shift’:
the idea that, although women were now able to go to work, they still were
largely responsible for the maintenance of the home, as men were not pre-
pared to change traditional patterns of behaviour in the private sphere.
The Cuban constitution (Constitución de la República de Cuba, 1992:
28) in Article 44 of Chapter VI on equality, states: ‘[…] el Estado garantiza
32 Introduction
took place within the socialist project and which, in the opinion of Jorge
Luis Acanda (1996) ‘marcaron nuevos espacios, prioridades, tácticas y
estructuras, y que recibieron una nueva dirección tras la desaparición de
la Unión Soviética’ [marked out new spaces, priorities, tactics and struc-
tures, that went in a new direction after the disappearance of the Soviet
Union]. He continues: ‘Todo ello provocó la existencia en Cuba, a partir
de estos años, de una percepción generalizada, en todos los niveles y sec-
tores sociales, sobre la necesidad de transformaciones’ [All that provoked
the existence in Cuba, from this time, of a generalised perception, at all
levels and in all social sectors, of the necessity to change].
As Catherine Davies (1999: 199) comments, during the period of recti-
fication, it was recognised that Marxism had to be refocused to encompass
feminism. Fidel Castro declared in the Third Party Congress, 1986, that
ef forts to correct ‘historical injustices’ such as racial and gender inequali-
ties had been inadequate.
During these years the participation of Cuban men and women in
international events was promoted, which allowed comparisons of the
situation of women in Cuba with that of other countries, thus allowing
for contact with other ideas on gender. Forums on gender and women’s
issues were held between universities and from 1991 the Casas de la Mujer
y de la Familia [Centre for Women and the Family] and the Centro de
Estudios sobre la Mujer [Centre for Woman’s Studies] were set up by the
FMC (Abreu, 2006).
As Carolee Bengelsdorf (1997: 122) argues, the studies on women in
Cuba in the majority of cases do not have the required level of theory. They
have also been displaced, she says, by studies on the family where the women
are shown only as part of a family situation. ‘Los debates en la literatura
sobre la mujer y el trabajo en Cuba han sido mucho menos complejos, y tal
vez por eso menos interesantes, que los relativos a la familia. Casi siempre
los investigadores emplean las mismas cifras para llegar a conclusiones dif-
erentes’ [The debates in the literature on women and work in Cuba have
been a lot less complex, and perhaps because of this less interesting than
those related to the family. The researchers nearly always employ the same
figures to arrive at dif ferent conclusions]. An example of this would be the
study by Marta Lamas (1999: 175) at the Centro de Estudios Demográficos
Introduction 35
Reducir la complejidad de la problemática que viven los seres humanos a una interpre-
tación parcial que habla solo de la ‘opresión de las mujeres’ no es únicamente reduccio-
nista, sino que también conduce al ‘victimismo’ y al ‘mujerismo’, que con frecuencia
tiñen muchos de los análisis y discursos feministas. Requerimos utilizar la perspectiva
de género para describir cómo opera la simbolización de la diferencia sexual en las
prácticas, discursos y representaciones culturales sexistas y homófonas.
[To reduce the complexity of the problematic in which human beings live to a partial
interpretation that speaks only of the ‘oppression of women’ is not only reductionist,
but it also drives the idea of the woman as ‘victim’ and also promotes ‘mujerismo’,28
that often taints much feminist discourse and analysis. We want to utilise the per-
spective of gender to describe how the symbolisation of sexual dif ference operates in
sexist and homophobic cultural practices, discourses and representations.]
It seems evident that the gender debate in Cuba focused on the develop-
ment of opportunities for women to enter into the workplace, in a very
Marxist, and often reductionist, appraisal of a highly complex terrain.
Cuban female cultural and social production would appear to begin from
a point of dif ference, that is to say that women’s cultural production is seen
as in some way inherently dif ferent from that of men. As writer and critic
Mirta Yáñez (1996: 13) states:
[…] igualdad no quería decir similitud. Un falso igualitarismo entre los sexos sim-
plificaría hasta la caricatura el problema. Existen y existirán diferencias, mas ellas no
pueden imponerse arbitrariamente ni porvenir de la primacía de un grupo social
sobre otro. La mujer, dentro de un determinado conglomerado humano, tanto fami-
liar, como productivo, como intelectual, en un contexto histórico dado, manifiesta
rasgos particulares que provienen de un sedimento de su evolución, así como por
su naturaleza concreta.
[… equality did not mean similarity. A false egalitarianism between the sexes would
simplify the problem to the point of caricature. Dif ferences exist and will exist, but
they cannot be imposed arbitrarily or determine the primacy of one social group over
another. The woman, within a given human group, within the family, as a productive
individual or as an intellectual, in a given historical context, expresses characteris-
tics that come from the sediment of her evolution, as well as from her particular
nature.]
This starting point of dif ference does have its dif ficulties and this study
aims to highlight some of these through the examination of the major
films of the period.
When the FMC was established in 1961, one of the dif ficulties con-
fronting it was in attempting to equate the egalitarian principles of the
Revolution with the partisan principles of a movement seeking to promote
the cause of one particular section of society (albeit half the population).
The feminist movement throughout the (Western) world, since the end
of the eighteenth century, has always operated within a wide political
spectrum. But within it are inscribed the pioneers of socialism in Europe
creating a feminist/socialist current that still exists and the FMC has, since
its inception in 1961, been at the forefront of socialist feminism within
Latin America. In the majority of the films in this book, socialist ideals
are clearly very strongly advocated.
The balancing of these two ideologies (feminism and socialism)
has thus been a prime concern of the FMC, it being sought through the
notion of participation. Women can take their place in the Revolution
through work. According to Espín (1990: 1), their purpose is to support the
Revolution. Through participation in all walks of life, women should be able
to free themselves from the alleged drudgery of domestic labour. However,
in some cases, the long arm of tradition dictates that women continue to
perform domestic tasks and other revolutionary activities besides, as the
film Retrato de Teresa, discussed in Chapter 4, clearly highlights. Part of the
struggle for female equality lies directly in the ideological standpoint of the
FMC, which believes that the problems of the nation are more important
than the search for female liberation, as Espín (ibid. 73) confirms:
Introduction 37
[…] pesan más los problemas de nuestros pueblos y son más importantes estos que las
reivindicaciones netamente femeninas: los problemas de supervivencia, de lucha por
la liberación, los enfrentamientos a la explotación imperialista tienen un peso superior,
porque son problemas más apuntantes. Nuestra labor se dirige a hacer conciencia
en las mujeres sobre sus problemas, y a hacérsela a toda la sociedad para propiciar la
participación de la mujer junto con el hombre en la solución de esos problemas.
[… the problems of our people outweigh and are more important than the purely
feminine claims: the problems of survival and the struggle for liberation, the confron-
tation with imperialist exploitation; these carry more weight because they are more
relevant problems. Our work aims to raise awareness among women and throughout
society about women’s problems, to encourage the participation of women along
with men to solve them.]
For the FMC, the struggle in Cuba appears not to be so much an internal
struggle between the sexes but a (Marxist) ideological confrontation that
has more to do with class than sex. The radical feminists’ point of view that
man rather than class is at the root of women’s oppression is not considered
by the FMC: ‘Estas últimas ideas, antinaturales y absurdas, no tienen nada
que ver con nuestra concepción científica y con la realidad de que la lucha
que existe en el mundo es un problema de clases’ [These recent anti-natural
and absurd ideas, have nothing to do with our scientific conception and
with the reality that the struggle that exists in the world is a problem of
class] (ibid. 63).
As Espín (ibid.) comments, women are dif ferent biologically: ‘es el
recinto del niño que va a nacer, el taller natural donde se forja la vida’ [she
is the enclosure for the child who is going to be born, nature’s workshop
where life is formed]. Such a celebration of the biological miracle of women
and motherhood is, as Germaine Greer (2000: 43) points out, tantamount
to heresy in today’s modern Western feminist theory, although the contex-
tual dif ferences in which the two operate must be taken into account when
these opinions are considered. Thus, Cuban feminism is fundamentally a
Marxist feminism and the fundamental relationship between Marxism and
feminism lies in the knowledge that Marxism does not consider women in
relation to men but in relation to the prevailing economic system. Women’s
oppression, from a Marxist point of view, is seen as the oppression of one
more of the downtrodden classes. Women are thus seen in terms of class
38 Introduction
rather than sex. Economic goals have always been put before female lib-
eration or independence (Bunck, 1994: 93). As Heidi Hartmann (1981: 3)
points out, Marxism sees women’s oppression as being directly related to
production (or a lack of it).
Thus, the more important relationship becomes that of man and wom-
an’s relationship to capital – which subsumes the relationship between
men and women as dif ferent sexes. By destroying the sexual division of
labour, it was assumed by Marxists that the oppression of women by men
would disappear. From what we have seen of the work of the FMC, this is
the basis of their argument also – following Marx, Engels and Lenin. For
example, Engels recognised women’s inferior position and attributed it to
the institution of private property, believing that no oppression existed
amongst the working classes (Sargent, 1981: 210). The problem with the
ideas of Marx, Engels and Lenin is that they ignore socio-cultural changes,
privileging the economic argument. Women’s position in society changes
regardless of the economic situation – changes that are bound up with a
multitude of dif ferent factors but not least with the power of tradition.
Simply to change the economic parameters of a nation cannot erase hun-
dreds of years of socio-cultural politics. In the case of Cuba, the situation
is made even more complex by the multiplicity of ethnic communities that
inhabit the island, bringing with them their own cultural traditions. Yes,
equality of economic production and opportunity are important, and it
appears that Cuba has made important advances in this respect, but, as Lise
Vogel (1981: 195) points out, socialist feminists subordinate their feminism
to their Marxism.
In Cuba, this Marxist, materialist-based approach to feminist issues
fails to consider the unequal relationship between men and women at the
private, domestic level where, as we have seen, cultural traditions, created
by men, force women to work the ‘double-shift’. So, does this failure of
Marxism to consider the private sphere, i.e. the relationship between the
sexes in the home, imply the ultimate failure of the alliance of Marxism
and feminism in a Cuban context?
Lydia Sargent (1981: xiii) makes a valid point concerning women and
revolution, arguing that revolutions are often led by white middle-class
males (Cuba is no exception) and that the women are mobilised to ‘keep
Introduction 39
This work argues that Cuba, throughout the period in question (1974–90),
was a patriarchal society, in the broadest sense that men make the most
fundamental and important decisions and that they, not women, are the
dominant force in society, following Simone de Beauvoir: ‘patriarchal
ideology presents woman as immanence, man as transcendence’ (Moi,
1985: 92). But the condition of patriarchy for Cuban women is not only
metaphysical or existential, but also material. Evidence of this will be pro-
vided throughout the book, in the general discussions of women’s roles in
Cuban society in this introduction, and in the theoretical introductions
(Chapters 1, 3 and 5) to the film analyses (Chapters 2, 4 and 6).
Suf fice it to say here, as Álvarez (2000: 122) argues, with all the trans-
formations in Cuban society and the undoubted benefits that women have
obtained, patriarchy still exists in Cuban culture, in values perpetuated
in individual and social subjectivity and in the lack of a suf ficient level
of consciousness concerning issues of gender and gender discrimination.
40 Introduction
The inequalities between men and women are seen more in the area of
the private sphere and in the access women have to decision-making posi-
tions. There appears to be a pyramid structure of power, feminised at the
bottom and masculinised at the top, with 66.6 per cent of the professional-
technical workforce being women (Arés, 2000: 23). In general, women and
men are seen, in Cuba, as essentially dif ferent. In 1970, the Cuban Labour
Minister Jorge Risquet (Bunck, 1994: 106) said: ‘There are men and there
are women. The problem isn’t the same for both. Women have the job
of reproducing as well as producing. That is they have to take care of the
house, raise the children and do other tasks along these lines […] from the
political point of view our people wouldn’t understand if we were to treat
women and men alike.’29
And Fidel Castro’s paternalism is evident in the following quote from
1974, when he called women ‘nature’s workshop where life is formed’ (ibid.).
‘Men are obliged to give their seat to a pregnant woman on a bus, or to
an elderly woman […] you must always have special considerations for
others. We have them for women because they are physically weaker, and
because they have tasks and functions and human burdens which we do
not have.’
However, in the same year Castro (ibid. 107) acknowledged the fail-
ure of the Revolution to adequately deal with the problem of inequality
between the sexes when, in a discussion about sexual equality he admit-
ted: ‘After more than 15 years of revolution […] we are still politically and
culturally behind.’
There exists a sexist division of domestic roles and a lack of material
resources and support services sharpened by a general economic crisis that
impacts unfavourably on the equitable functioning of the family (Álvarez,
2000: 124). Other symptoms of a patriarchal society are subjective, such
as the persistence of representations that undervalue women. For exam-
ple in 1990, president of the FMC, Vilma Espín (1990: 112) commented
on the new role of peasant women immediately after the triumph of the
Revolution: ‘El saber coser, el saber cortar una ropa bonita era siempre un
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Footnotes:
Transcriber notes:
Fixed various commas and full-stops.
P.16. 'astist' changed to 'artist'.
P.32. 'ana' changed to 'and'.
P.109. 'reveiwed' changed to 'reviewed'.
Add: Camera: to 'be be raised', changed to 'be raised'.
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