A Cuban Sundae: Strawberry or Chocolate?

Cubans are crazy for all things Hollywood. There’s no question that their number-one matinee idol is Che Guevara, whose soulful image shows up everywhere. But there’s also passionate enthusiasm for Marilyn Monroe, the queen of the souvenir shops. It’s not so surprising that the faces of these two popular icons make an appearance as part of the décor in Cuba’s most famous homegrown movie, Strawberry and Chocolate. Or, if you want to be a purist, Fresa y Chocolate. This film, from 1993, has the signal distinction of being the only Cuban movie ever to be nominated for a foreign language Oscar. No, it didn’t win: it was up against Russia’s Burnt by the Sun (the eventual winner) as well as Ang Lee’s Taiwanese-language feature, Eat Drink Man Woman. But, as they say, it’s an honor just to be considered.

Strawberry and Chocolate was financed in part by the

Instituto Cubano del Arte e Industrias Cinematográficos,with help from both Spain and Mexico. Given the movie’s Cuban governmental connection, its subject matter comes as something of a surprise. This film, frank in its dialogue and in its depiction of the human body, is basically an exploration of what it’s like to be a gay man in post-revolutionary Cuba. From reading the work of my screenwriting students who have Cuban backgrounds, I know there was a time when to be gay was to be considered an enemy of the state, with consequences that were often horrendous. This film doesn’t go quite so far, but it hardly shies away from revealing the nation’s deeply-entrenched homophobia. (These days, I doubt Cuba has become a paradise for homosexuals, but they do have a powerful public champion in Raul Castro’s daughter.)

Strawberry and Chocolate was shot in the difficult era when Cuba was trying to move past its lucrative former connection with the Soviet Union. The first character we meet, David, is a poor university student caught up in revolutionary ideology. He wants to be a writer, but is majoring in political science because he feels this is the best way to help serve his people. He’s a straight-ahead guy, and a bit of an innocent. His one try at romance has not worked out well.

Cut to a scene at Coppélia, Havana’s famous “ice cream park.” This huge installation, the size of a city block, was promoted by Fidel Castro as a place to provide sweet treats to the Cuban masses at rock-bottom prices. It’s there that David is accosted by Diego, who is waspish, witty, and decidedly gay. He’s also well acquainted with art, literature, and classical music. He lures David to his imaginatively cluttered flat, nattering on about an art exhibit he and a friend will stage through a foreign embassy. Though David has no wish to pursue the acquaintance, his strait-laced college roommate decides that Diego is clearly subversive, and that it’s David’s patriotic duty to investigate him.

The plot of the film, such as it is, does not go where you’d think it might. Fundamentally, it’s a character study of two young men with very different preferences, though an emotionally complex neighbor lady who skirts the law in large ways and small also figures in. From what I saw on screen, the Havana of 25 years ago hasn’t changed much from what I witnessed in person this past December. There’s still beauty and clutter, vibrant people in dilapidated surroundings. To the extent that this is a love story, it’s mostly a valentine to a city and a culture that, despite the quirks of a byzantine political system, are still unforgettable.

Cuba’s Las Parrandas: Of New Year’s Parades and Christmas Eve Floats

My annual New Year’s tradition is to start the day (not too early, please!) by watching Pasadena’s Tournament of Roses parade on television. Somehow I can’t get enough of the brass bands and ingenious flower-covered floats, despite the TV commentators’ mindless chatter. Then, on January 2, I make the trek to the small city of Sierra Madre to enjoy the parked floats up close and personal. As everyone knows by now, Rose Parade floats are required to be covered with natural matter: mostly flowers, but also leaves, seeds, and all manner of vegetables. Like, for instance, potatoes serving as cobblestones, or artfully placed lemons and ornamental cabbages suggesting an under-the-seascape. To view the floats in person is to appreciate the craftsmanship that makes them so spectacular.

Of course such craftsmanship is costly, requiring a whole cadre of designers, flower-growers, builders, and so-called petal pushers who lovingly put every bloom and seed-pod in its proper place. Though the Rose Parade attracts a handful of cities and organizations who do the work on a volunteer basis (with the two Cal Poly universities winning many prizes for their home-grown creations) most floats are funded by big corporations, and are brought to life by well-paid professionals. I can’t complain: the results are gorgeous.

Still, dedicated amateurism is something to be prized, especially when it’s generated by community spirit. I was reminded of this lesson on a recent trip to the Cuban town of Remedios. Luckily for me, Christmas Eve was fast approaching, and so I was able to share in the excitement of a unique Cuban celebration, Las Parrandas. Las Parrandas de San Juan de los Remedios began in the late nineteenth century when a local priest sought to channel the high spirits of Christmas eve by launching a fiesta that included a midnight mass. The town’s neighborhoods were divided into two groups, with every local being designated either a Rooster (Gallo) or a Hawk (Halcón). Leading up to midnight, the two sides still compete fiercely, seeking to outdo one another by way of fireworks, stationery displays, and floats that are ceremonially rolled into the town plaza at 3 a.m. Each side chooses a theme (which is often movie-related). All details are top-secret until they are unveiled in the course of the festivities. Yes, there’s that brief religious interlude, but mostly this is an intensely secular event, fueled by what a certain tour guide I know describes as Vitamin R. (Of course, this means rum.)

Along with my fellow Road Scholars travelers, I was lucky enough to visit a local designer affiliated with the Roosters, and then move on to a tour of the Hawk workshop where the finishing touches were being prepared. (Yes, we were sworn to secrecy.) At the workshop, which was housed in a large warehouse-style building, we watched loyal volunteers and a few state-supported professionals labor to install simple electronics, paint small lightbulbs in brilliant colors, and carve figurines out of large blocks of Styrofoam. The theme, clearly connected to movie as well as literary imagery, was The Chronicles of Narnia, and I was amazed by the spectacular rendering of a giant lion, as well as three-dimension polar bears, reindeer, and other exotic creatures. (In 2017, the rival team had pinned its hopes on The Snow Queen: Cubans seem fascinated by tales of arctic frost.)

Unlike the Rose Parade, Las Parrandas includes no official judging of the year’s best efforts. It’s all in the bragging rights, and each team is cheered on by its local partisans. I won’t take sides, but will merely say Olé, and Feliz Año Nuevo! 

Sign exhorting volunteers to have the right attitude

And here, with thanks to my fellow traveler Anthony Flinn, is footage of Las Parrandas de San Juan de los Remedios in action. Wow!