This document provides a summary and analysis of the film Viva Cuba. It discusses how the film uses child protagonists Jorgito and Malu to represent Cuba's collective memory and identity amid economic and political uncertainty following the collapse of the Soviet Union. Through nostalgic scenes that invoke Cuba's past and celebrations of national heroes, the film emphasizes the importance of a shared cultural history and education of children. However, the ending suggests the future is unclear, representing Cuba's uncertain position between maintaining its revolutionary ideals and globalization. The analysis examines how the film uses nostalgia and childhood perspectives to contemplate Cuban identity and imagine the future during a vulnerable time in the country's history.

1. 189
Studies in Hispanic Cinemas
Volume 8 Number 2
© 2011 Intellect Ltd Article. English language. doi: 10.1386/shci.8.2.189_1
SHC 8 (2) pp. 189–202 Intellect Limited 2011
GeorGia Seminet
St. Edward’s University
a post-revolutionary
childhood: nostalgia and
collective memory in
Viva Cuba
abStract
The Soviet Union’s withdrawal of support for the Cuban economy provoked a ‘Special
Period’ in Cuba in the 1990s. The Special Period and the ongoing threat posed by
globalization have led several Cuban artists and intellectuals to speculate regarding the
foundations of Cuban identity in the future. This article analyses the film Viva Cuba
(Cremata Malberti, 2005) as a nostalgic representation of Cuban identity in the face of
an uncertain future. Within this context, the young stars of the film become a vehicle
through which Cuba’s past and questions about the future are interwoven into a wistful
allegory that ponders the complexity of Cuban identity in a globalized world.
A national identity that does not renounce the heritage of the past decades
but that is capable of revising itself from within, without lies or cover-ups,
would be an extraordinary force, because of the profound anchorage that
identity has in the people and because of its capacity to lift us above narrow
interests to prefigure utopias and to summon us to give a more transcend-
ent sense to life and to the search for well-being and happiness.
(Martínez Heredia 2002: 147)
KeywordS
childhood
children
collective memory
globalization
national identity
nostalgia

2. Georgia Seminet
190
‘Is it my imagination, or are more and more films about childhood starting
to appear?’, writes film critic Phillip Lopate in 1995 (93). In fact, devoted
spectators of Spanish- and Portuguese-language cinema over the last two
decades may have likewise noticed an escalation in the number of films
that focus on childhood and adolescence. While there are diverse reasons
commonly attributed to this increase, it is equally important to recognize
the cultural and historical specificity of such films. An example depict-
ing a Cuban childhood can be seen in Viva Cuba, by director Juan Carlos
Cremata Malberti and co-director Iraida Malberti Cabrera, released in 2005.
Viva Cuba has won numerous awards, including the Children’s Prize at
Cannes in 2005. The film was shot with a digital camera and a crew of only
fifteen people, many of whom were family members, at a cost of approxi-
mately $50,000.00 (USD). The innovation necessary to produce Viva Cuba
on such a limited budget and without the support of the Cuban Institute
of Cinematographic Art and Industry (Instituto Cubano de Arte e Industria
Cinematográficos or ICAIC) is documented by Ann Marie Stock (2009), who
calls the filmic techniques developed by Cremata Malberti and his crew an
example of ‘street filmmaking’.
Though Viva Cuba can be interpreted from a variety of perspectives, this
essay centres on how the child focalizers in the film function as a fulcrum
upon which to balance the cultural and historical specificity of Cuba while
imagining the country’s uncertain future in the global economy. The position
of the children Jorgito (Jorge Miló) and Malú (Malú Tarrau Borche), who are
approximately 10 years old in the film, illustrates Henry Giroux’s statement
that young people are ‘a metaphor for historical memory and a marker that
makes visible the ethical and political responsibility of adults to the next gener-
ation’ (1996: 10). The representation of Cuban identity in the children leads
the spectator to imagine futurity, but it is actually the past that is privileged
in their journey through the countryside. As Giroux goes on to say, ‘Youth
haunts adult society […]. It simultaneously serves as a symbol of how a soci-
ety thinks about itself and as an indicator of changing cultural values, sexual-
ity, the state of the economy, and the spiritual life of a nation’ (1996: 10). Thus
the child characters in the film are positioned at a crossroads between Cuba’s
past and future, serving as conduits for nostalgia and collective memory while
simultaneously inviting us to imagine the future.
The uncertainty of Cuba’s future, however, is the raison d’être for the
nostalgic tone of the film. As sociologist Fred Davis writes, ‘Nostalgia is more
a crepuscular emotion. It takes hold when the dark of impending change is
seen to be encroaching […]’ (2011: 450), a characterization which applies
to Cuba’s position as a communist country in an era of globalization and
‘impending change’. Cuban intellectual Fernando Martínez Heredia charac-
terizes the precarious situation of Cuba during the 1990s, and gives further
insight into the dark depths of change and what it may mean for Cubans:
Cuban national identity today is associated with the word risk – the risk
of losing the society of social justice into which national identity has
been linked for decades, the risk of losing socialism. And the risk of
losing sovereignty as a people, as a nation-state.
(2002: 141)
Viva Cuba captures the essence of the ‘crepuscular’ moment in Cuba’s history
and is thus ideally suited for nostalgic reflections on the nation and national

3. A post-revolutionary childhood
191
1. Historian Richard Gott
ends his history of
Cuba with the assertion
that the social changes
have already taken
place, having been
ushered in during the
‘Special Period’ of the
1990s:
He [Castro] does
not run the
country, but he
presides over a
government that
is his creation.
He has changed
his slogan from
‘socialism or death’,
suitable for the
violent twentieth
century, to ‘a better
world is possible’,
appropriated for
the more pacifistic
revolutionaries of
a new era. When
he dies, there will
be little change in
Cuba. While few
people have been
looking, the change
has already taken
place.
(2004: 325)
identity that are triggered by the apprehension associated with risk and an
impending sense of loss.1
As the final scene in the film will show, Jorgito and Malú are literally and
metaphorically positioned between a nostalgic vision of Cuba’s past, evoked
through images that appeal to the collective memory of Cubans, and a vague
vision of what the future holds. In an interview, director Cremata Malberti
reveals his penchant for subjectivizing Cuba’s past, and his desire to envi-
sion the future: ‘I don’t know how to make anything that’s not Cuban […]
I’m more and more interested in Cuban culture – in our roots, what we
were, what we are, what we will be […]’ (Havana-Cultura 2011). Viva Cuba
derives its charm and popularity from the combination of diverse time peri-
ods and geographical spaces, successfully juxtaposing different generations,
social classes and urban and rural scenes within the film, all of which create a
nostalgic appeal to the collective memory of Cubans as well as viewers world-
wide. According to Svetlana Boym,
Modern nostalgia is a mourning for the impossibility of mythical return,
for the loss of an enchanted world with clear borders and values; it could
be a secular expression of spiritual longing, a nostalgia for an absolute,
a home that is both physical and spiritual, the edenic unity of time and
space before entry into history.
(2001: 8)
By the end of the film, the viewer, who has been treated to a nostalgic trip
through the spectacular Cuban landscape, will grasp the impact of the ‘impos-
sibility of mythical return’.
Viva Cuba begins with the credits on a white background in a font that
looks like red crayon accompanied by singing from a boys’ choir. As the cred-
its dissolve and the film opens, the spectator first sees Jorgito’s hands grab
the top of a wall as he pulls himself up to the point where we have a close-up
of the top of his head and eyes as he is peeking over the wall. The singing
from the boys’ choir has subsided and is replaced by background sounds that
are clearly representative of modern warfare: the characteristic rapid-fire shots
of machine guns and grenades exploding. Though it is later clarified that the
children are re-enacting the Spanish American War, the spectator thinks
immediately of the Cuban Revolution. This is the first of many shots that
invoke the past, present and future. In the reverse shot of Jorgito dropping
down the back of the wall, we see that he has been on his friend Manolito’s
shoulders, on the lookout for the enemy as they pretend to battle the Spanish
forces. Painted in giant red letters across the wall is the word ‘Cuba’. Before
scrambling off, he scrawls the word ‘Viva’ directly above ‘Cuba’ to create
the title ‘Viva Cuba [Long Live Cuba]’, reminding us that Cuba, despite its
relative isolation from the global economy and the uncertainty of its future,
continues to be a vibrant country whose cultural identity is informed by a
common history expressed in the film through the representation of collective
memories. Thus from the very beginning, the nostalgic tone keeps the anxi-
ety of risk at bay; but despite the enchantment of the children and the appeal
to collective memory, the risk and uncertainty surrounding the future of the
nation will be the final message of the film.
Significantly, the film opens with Jorgito’s gaze as it meets that of the
spectator who finds him/herself staring directly into the child’s eyes. From
this moment on, the spectator is seduced into seeing Cuba through the child’s

4. Georgia Seminet
192
2. This idea is inspired
by Henry Jenkins’s
definition of childhood
culture as
[t]he popular
culture produced
for, by, and/or
about children.
Children’s culture
is not ‘innocent’
of adult political,
economic, moral
or sexual concerns.
Rather, the creation
of children’s
culture represents
the central arena
through which
we construct our
fantasies about
the future and
a battleground
through which
we struggle to
express competing
ideological
agendas.
3. Castro’s all-
encompassing political
and social initiative,
The Battle of Ideas,
implemented officially
in 1999 on the day
of the first rally of
support for Elián
González in Cuba (Font
2008: 47), included
numerous initiatives
aimed at integrating
Cuba’s youth into
the socialist society.
During the Special
Period of the 1990s,
young people began
to feel increasingly
indifferent regarding
the guiding principles
of post revolutionary
Cuban identity.
The Battle of Ideas
focused on improving
their lives through
initiatives in health,
education, the media,
and employment
(see Font for a
history of the Battle
of Ideas). Ann Marie
Stock discusses new
directions in Cuban
film and television
productions within the
context of the Battle
of Ideas (see especially
chapter 3, ‘Dolly Back’,
in On Location).
perspective. In literature and film, the child’s point of view is often engaged as
a mirroring device that foregrounds the preoccupations of adults. The combi-
nation of child/adult vision in the figure of the child is thus exploited so that
adults may re-envision their past, and project upon the future with a sense
of temporal continuity.2
In many recent films from Latin America, the child’s
point of view is deployed to represent a unique position vis-à-vis the embodi-
ment of national identity and collective memory. Nations educate their chil-
dren to be the depositories of collective memories in order to uphold and
reproduce national identity for future generations. There are several examples
in Viva Cuba that stress the priority the Cuban state gives to the formation of a
common cultural foundation in its children,3
and though there are clear refer-
ences to the history of post-revolutionary Cuba, there are also examples that
integrate the shared history of Cubans before the ideological schisms exac-
erbated by the Revolution that led to exile and massive migration. A prime
example is found in the two scenes that take place in the courtyard at the
start of each school day. These scenes show the neatly uniformed children
singing the Cuban national anthem, ‘El himno de Bayamo’/‘The Bayamo
Anthem’, composed after the Battle of Bayamo in 1868, a battle in which the
Cubans defeated the Spaniards, though independence would only come later.
The anthem, officially adopted in 1902, remained as Cuba’s national anthem
after the Revolution. Following the anthem the children salute and declare
in unison a slogan imposed after the Revolution: ‘Pioneros por el comunismo
¡Seremos como el Ché! [Pioneers for Communism. We will be like Ché!]’ This
scene represents a typical start to the school day, and is repeated twice in the
film. After this patriotic scene in the courtyard, the film cuts immediately to
the classroom where the children are reading a poem out loud from a text-
book. The poem is apparently being used to teach reading as well as the typi-
cal agricultural crops of the island.
In a much later scene, Jorgito and Malú participate in the celebration
honouring the death of Cuban national hero José Martí. The selection of this
scene echoes the focus on national identity and collective memory as the
figure of Martí is revered by Cubans who remain on the island and exiles alike.
These scenes, interspersed throughout the first half of the film, emphasize the
common cultural foundation proffered through public education. Thus Jorgito
and Malú, dressed in early scenes in their pionero school uniforms, embody a
typical Cuban childhood.
Consequently, in a combative climate in which Cuban identity is contested
from different ideological positions, the post-revolutionary childhood is vali-
dated. In an allegorical representation in which the children symbolize the
nation, the future of Cuba is also invested with the same energy, determina-
tion and dissention that characterize Jorgito and Malú throughout the film.
Though it later becomes apparent that their strong friendship deteriorates
under the stress of their escapades (like the nation?), they eventually unite in
solidarity against the forces (the parents) that will tear them apart.
noStalGia and collective memory
The reproduction of nostalgia and collective memory in Viva Cuba are impor-
tant indicators of the political and economic quandary in which Cuba has
struggled since the collapse of the Soviet Union. The Special Period, which
spanned the 1990s, began as a result of the huge decrease in the demand
for sugar and the subsequent decrease in imports of gasoline and other

5. A post-revolutionary childhood
193
4. According to
information on the site
‘Guije.com’, the guije is
a mythological being,
legendary in Cuba, who
has been described
in different ways. The
image we see in the
film corresponds to
one of the descriptions
on the website. Guije
is a mischievous being
who frightens but is
not dangerous.
petroleum products from the Soviet Union. These events marked a period
of economic turmoil and depression that resulted in severe hardships for
the Cuban population. Especially during the early to mid-1990s, food, medi-
cine and other essential staples were extremely scarce. The fact that collective
memory is such a significant resource in the film can be understood if we
contextualize Viva Cuba within the country’s crisis. The destabilizing effects
of globalization are unsettling for all nations, and Cuba is no exception. The
recourse to collective memory as a structuring element of the film’s narrative
is indicative of the hybridization of cultures in the current global era, a situ-
ation that has been seen as conducive to a ‘memory boom’: ‘To be sure, the
memory boom of the late nineteenth century was tied up with the ascend-
ancy of nationalism, while that of the late twentieth century is tied up with its
decline’ (Olick, Vinitzky-Seroussi and Levy 2011: 14).
The decline of nationalism may have also triggered a nostalgic response
in the work of Cuban film director Fernando Pérez. Film scholar Ann Marie
Stock has noted a response to this predicament in Pérez’s depiction of
the Special Period over the course of three feature films that span the most
economically destitute years of the 1990s. From Madagascar (1994), produced
during the harshest times of the Special Period, to Life Is to Whistle (1998) and
Havana Suite (2003), both produced in slightly improving times, Pérez ‘prof-
fered a vision of Cuba’s future’ (Stock 2007: 69). Stock emphasizes Pérez’s
desire to ‘reaffirm[s] the power of the human spirit’ (2007: 69) in such trying
times. The theme in Madagascar is an example about which Stock writes, ‘This
film underscores the constant transition and need to reckon with the past, the
impossibility of locating oneself, and the importance of solidarity in uncertain
times’ (2007: 69).
The theme of ‘solidarity in uncertain times’ is also present in Viva Cuba
as Cremata Malberti’s young characters exemplify the uncertainty with
which Cuba must confront the realities of globalization while at the same
time preserving what is essential to Cuban identity by exalting the merits of
camaraderie and harmony. Furthermore, the reliance on collective memory to
imbue the film with nostalgia reflects once again the recognition that Cuba is
facing uncertain times, affirming sociologist Fred Davis’s characterization of
the nostalgic experience: ‘its sources [lie] in the perceived threats of identity
discontinuity and its role in engendering collective identities among people
generally, but most especially among members of “the same generation”’
(2011: 449).
After the fall of the Berlin Wall, Cuba experienced the full brunt of globali-
zation, and films such as those by Pérez, cited above, and Viva Cuba may
well be a response to the threat of ‘identity discontinuity’ provoked by the
crisis of the Special Period. Cremata Malberti relies on particular elements of
Cuba’s history and popular culture that appeal to the collective memory of
Cubans, thus sidestepping highly polarizing ideological critiques that would
exacerbate feelings of identity discontinuity. Popular culture is woven into
the portrayal of Cuban identity throughout the film as can be attested by the
appearance of the guije,4
the encounter with the guajiro ox-cart driver of the
countryside and the blind woman who accuses Jorgito and Malú of stealing
mangos. However, the dedication to Ellegguá following the opening cred-
its is one of the more symbolic references to popular culture, imbuing the
film with significance. The dedication to Ellegguá integrates Cuban mythol-
ogy of African origins into the representation of national identity. Ellegguá is
an Orisha (or deity) in the Yoruban religion that forms the basis of Santería

6. Georgia Seminet
194
(Jestice 2004: 767). Ellegguá is personified as small and childlike, and he is
the powerful deity of the crossroads (2004: 660). He is also characterized as a
playful, trickster-like character who loves candy or anything a child would like,
and one of his powerful attributes is that he helps people overcome problems.
After viewing Viva Cuba, it becomes apparent that the dedication to Ellegguá
foreshadows a potential problem that Jorgito and Malú must overcome. Their
dilemma fuels the narrative conflict, and, as I argue, is also a metaphor for
the crisis in contemporary Cuba. Furthermore, by drawing upon elements
such as the guije, the guajiro or the reference to Ellegguá, the film belies a
desire to bolster Cuban identity in the post-revolutionary period and consti-
tutes a response to the threat of a ‘memory crisis’: ‘Any threats to the sense
of the shared past by dislocation, rampant growth, or the general unmooring
of cultures from their origins produced a “memory crisis” and a redoubled
search for its hidden recesses’ (Olick, Vinitzky-Seroussi and Levy 2011: 14).
Viva Cuba comprises an effort to divert the ‘memory crisis’ that threatens to
destroy the collective memories of post-revolutionary Cuba by validating a
post-revolutionary childhood that is embodied by Jorgito and Malú.
Under these circumstances, the dedication of the film to Ellegguá takes on
a more nuanced meaning that contributes to the metaphorical interpretation
of the film. The significance of Ellegguá lies in his methods, as he often leads
people into difficult situations to test their mettle. Jorgito and Malú are at a
crossroads in their life, but unfortunately when their friendship is tested their
solidarity crumbles. The stories of Ellegguá’s exploits attest to the fact that he
only helps those who are attuned to his lessons and who can learn from, and
overcome, difficult situations. The dedication to Ellegguá creates a metaphori-
cal parallel between the children’s predicament and the social and historical
quandary of contemporary Cuba as well as the ideological divides that sepa-
rate many Cubans. By integrating the reference to Ellegguá, the film implies
that the answer to Cuba’s problems may be found, at least partially, in the
ability of Cubans to rely on their common identity and collective memory, as
expressed so freely in the characterizations of Malú and Jorgito, to salvage the
solidarity necessary to confront the turbulent future.
The plot revolves around the deep friendship of Malú and Jorgito. Malú,
her mother (Larisa Vega Alamar) and grandmother (Sara Cabrera) have all
been living together in their family home in Havana. However, upon the
death of the grandmother, abuelita, Malú’s mother begins making plans to
leave Cuba. She plans to marry a man who lives abroad in an unspecified
country, and who has been waiting for the two to migrate. With the death
of abuelita, there is no one or nothing left in Cuba for Malú’s mother. The
only obstacle now is acquiring authorization from Malú’s biological father
to allow his daughter to leave Cuba, which the mother believes will be a
straightforward process. Malú, on the other hand, is devastated by the death
of her grandmother; and the news of leaving Cuba, along with the thought
of being separated from her best friend Jorgito, is almost unbearable. The
ensuing adventure unfolds as the children hatch a plan to persuade Malú’s
father to deny her mother’s request to allow Malú to leave Cuba. With their
future happiness in jeopardy, and their friendship threatened by the anxi-
ety of separation, the children take matters into their own hands and plan
a journey to the Punta de Maisí, at the extreme eastern end of the island, in
search of Malú’s father. After two days on the road with little food or water,
the two begin to fight. They have lost their map, and as the prospects of
reaching the Punta de Maisí begin to fade, so does their friendship. Lost

7. A post-revolutionary childhood
195
and without the mutual comfort of their alliance, the forecast of their future
begins to look bleak.
The doubts about Jorgito’s and Malú’s future lead seamlessly to specula-
tion about the future of Cuba. Though any deliberation about Cuba’s future
could lead to ideological assumptions, Viva Cuba brackets ideological positions,
leaving them to implication through metaphorical interpretations. The deploy-
ment of the children as focalizers neutralizes the categorization of the film
as either anti- or pro-Castro, as Cremata Malberti also insists: ‘whoever sees
this film in terms of pro-Castro or anti-Castro will have missed the point’
(El País, 2006). However, Viva Cuba questions the future of the nation circum-
spectly through the evocation of nostalgia. In the film, the children’s dilemma
echoes the ongoing concern regarding the future of Cuba. How will Cuban
identity survive and adapt to the changes forced upon it in a globalized world?
How will Cuban culture withstand the pressures of economic globalization
and the threat to Cuban identity posed by migration, exile and the subsequent
loss of collective memory? There are no concrete answers to these questions,
but Viva Cuba creates a narrative that considers factors above and beyond the
economic and political realities by focusing on a nostalgic appeal to collective
memory through the implementation of filmic techniques.
Nostalgia dominates the tone of the film, and even affects the children,
especially Malú, who is thinking about returning to the time before abuelita
died and set in motion the chain of events that threaten to separate her from
Jorgito and Cuba. In one brief but important scene, Malú tries to conjure back
to life a dead plant on her window sill. She waters it and squeezes her eyes
tightly shut. For a split second she fantasizes that the plant has been revived
with golden leaves, but when she blinks again and opens her eyes, it is still
dead. Her childish fantasy of bringing the plant back to life through sheer
determination parallels her desire to return to life as it was before her grand-
mother died. Thus for Malú, the past is a time that is superior to the present
because it was free of gloom. The seemingly universal sentiment of comfort
derived from the idealization of the past is explained by Davis:
To conceive of nostalgic experience as encompassing some necessary
inner dialogue between past and present is not to suggest that the two
sides in the dialogue are of equal strength, independence or resonance
or that there is any serious doubt over which way the conversation is
destined to go. […] for nostalgia’s mise-en-scène to fall into place, it
is always the adoration of the past that triumphs over lamentations for
the present.
(2011: 448 emphasis in original)
Though Davis emphasizes the importance of the past, he also acknowl-
edges that it encompasses a ‘dialogue between past and present’. In fact,
this dialogue is the basis for the composition of many key scenes in the film.
For example, in one of the most memorable scenes, we see Jorgito and Malú
in the foreground, their youth in contrast to the decaying building they are
sitting on and the old architecture of Havana in the distance. Their innocence
and hope for the future (they have just decided to undertake their journey)
contrast with the sunset and the slow movement of the camera. Present and
past are frequently contrasted in scenes to highlight the synthesis of genera-
tions and historical periods. In another example, we see the bus in which the
two children are travelling as it passes an old man driving an ox-drawn cart.

8. Georgia Seminet
196
5. The depiction of
an ox-cart and a
horse for modes of
transportation is also
reminiscent of the
Special Period. Gott
writes that
The extent of
the crisis was
soon visible in
Cuba’s towns and
countryside. Horse-
drawn carts and
carriages replaced
cars and lorries;
half a million
bicycles circulated
in the streets of
Havana, courtesy
of the Chinese;
300,000 oxen
replaced 30,000
Soviet tractors.
(2004: 288)
The bus is coming towards the spectator, towards the future, while the cart is
heading away from us, into the past. A similar example is seen when the two
head towards their destination in the sidecar of a motorcycle that looks like an
antique, but that is a far more modern form of transportation than the man on
horseback they pass along the way.5
A clear reference to collective memory is reflected in a scene in which
the children bury a box that contains a note from each of them to be opened
in the year 2030. Though what they wrote is supposed to be a secret, we
later learn that both had expressed everlasting friendship. Near the end of
the film, when Jorgito and Malú’s relationship has completely deteriorated
and they begin to fight due to the stress of their journey – they are lost,
hungry and thirsty – it is the memory of their former bond that reunites
them in solidarity to achieve their goal. Even more symbolic is the fact that
the children rekindle their friendship after being chastised by the fatherly
and intriguing ‘Che look-alike’ figure or the speleologist who gently reminds
them of their common past and shared memories. Though he appears only
briefly towards the end of the film, the speleologist (Pavel García Valdés) is
interesting for several reasons beyond his resemblance to the bearded Ché.
First of all, he fulfils the role of Ellegguá, whose symbolism was explained
earlier. He meets the children at a crossroads in their relationship, their
lowest point, at which time he reminds them that it was their bond of affec-
tion that got them this far along. The camera then zooms in, first on Malú,
then to Jorgito, as their growing smiles indicate their dawning realization
of the importance of friendship. Secondly, the speleologist chaperones
them to their final destination, the Punta de Maisí, fulfilling another role of
Ellegguá by aiding their travels.
childhood, noStalGia and collective memory:
JorGito and malú
As contemporary cinema rises to the challenge of representing the historical,
social and political transformations that nations are experiencing in the global
age, children provide an ideal vehicle for narrating the past and envision-
ing the future. In Viva Cuba, Jorgito and Malú consolidate visions of the past
and future, exemplifying Davis’s characterization of nostalgia as a dialogue
between past and present. The portrayal of Jorgito and Malú, who desperately
wants to remain in Cuba, as the trustees of the nation’s future, recreates them
as the vulnerable repositories of Cuba’s collective memory and the nation’s
hopes for the future.
Childhood memories that are rooted in relationships among friends and
family create a shared bond that contributes to the expression of national
identity. In the film, these bonds are tenderly and humorously constructed
and serve to preserve and commemorate childhood as a foundation for
cultural identity in a moment when the memory of Cuba as a revolutionary
state has lost much of its ideological appeal in the minds of younger genera-
tions. Malú’s mother’s endless stream of grievances over the phone to her
family that lives abroad is an indication of the hopelessness that marks the
lives of many Cubans in the twenty-first century. In one of her conversations
she remarks that ‘Esto se hunde [This (ship) is sinking]’, and ‘Esto no lo arregla
ni un médico chino [Not even a Chinese doctor can cure the country’s woes]’.
Despite her mother’s complaints, Malú’s family is much more materially
wealthy than Jorgito’s. Though Malú obviously comes from a once well-to-do

9. A post-revolutionary childhood
197
family, their more comfortable status may also be due to the fact that Malú’s
mother is receiving remittances from someone abroad.
Given the depressing social and economic conditions of contemporary
Cuba, it may be surprising that the film is permeated by a restrained opti-
mism symbolized in the shared belief of Jorgito and Malú that their plan will
succeed and they will remain together forever. The aura of nostalgia, informed
by collective memory, becomes the cultural glue that can solidify Cuban iden-
tity during uncertain times. The film belies a desire to offer a hopeful vision of
the future even though in reality, as on-screen, the way forward is unclear.
The childhood of Jorgito and Malú is metaphorically linked to Cuban real-
ity outside the fictional frame through a variety of expressive techniques and
music that contribute to the construction of nostalgia and collective memory.
The frequent use of establishing shots that situate the children in particular
locations throughout the island provide temporal and spatial continuity for
the spectator. These shots, of the skyline of Havana, the school courtyard, the
beaches of Varadero, or the countryside along the coast and the mountainous
interior, create a tone of nostalgia as they are likely to appeal to the collec-
tive memory of Cubans. For non-Cuban spectators, the beauty of the urban
and rural sunsets, the tropical vegetation and the slow, pastoral portrayal
of the guajiro lifestyle produce a romanticized sensation that permeates the
film. Frequent references to momentous events in the history of Cuba also
endow the film with a sense of spatial and temporal continuity – for example,
the re-enactment of the Spanish American War that the children are play-
ing at the beginning of the film or the celebration in honour of José Martí in
which Malú sings. In each of these cases, the children are part of the scene.
Finally, there are also constant visual reminders of the Cuban Revolution in
the form of posters and iconography of Fidel Castro, Che Guevara and Camilo
Cienfuegos. The most comical of these visual reminders of revolutionary Cuba
are the two posters on the doors of Jorgito’s and Malú’s homes. On the door
of Jorgito’s home the poster reads ‘Fidel, ésta es tu casa’. We are able to read it
when his mother slams the door on the gaze of her neighbour, Malú’s mother,
who in turn slams her door so that we can read the opposing poster ‘Señor,
ésta es tu casa’. The two posters establish early on the ideological differences
between the two families.
During the journey of Jorgito and Malú, the audience is treated to a variety
of settings, from Havana to Camagüey to the Punta de Maisí and from the
coast to the mountainous interior along the way. The nostalgic portrayal of a
Cuban childhood is reinforced in scenes of Havana where the lack of danger
to young children playing in the streets or walking to and from school alone
may invoke nostalgia in audiences from western countries whose cities are
much more threatening. Though the city is deteriorating and the infrastruc-
ture, including vehicles, is antiquated, neither the children nor their parents
are fearful as can be witnessed in the freedom of Jorgito and Malú to roam the
city. When they run away from home, they do not experience any trepidation
regarding hitchhiking, and there is no hint in the film that they have been
taught to be fearful of being alone outside the home. Their first day and night
on the road is spent swimming and playing in the crystal clear water and on
the white sand beaches, as Malú describes them, of Varadero. In the evening,
they bed down in an old fishing boat under the stars. In this scene, the beauty
of the setting can only be surpassed by the special effects in which Jorgito and
Malú drag the stars across the sky with their fingertips as if it were a giant
touchscreen, leaving a trail of iridescence behind the stars they are tracing.

10. Georgia Seminet
198
They fall asleep under the vigilance of a bright star that Malú declares is her
grandmother watching over her.
The cast of characters offers the spectator select views of certain stere-
otypes in Cuban society, such as the driver of the ox cart, and his polar oppo-
site, the educated speleologist. Especially worth noting among the ensemble
are the feuding families of the two children: Malú’s mother is from a bour-
geois, Christian background, and Jorge’s parents are working-class socialists.
Though their disdain for each other will diminish as they bond in the search
for their missing children, their opposing ideologies represent differing aspects
of Cuban identity and their characterization resonates deeply as a sociopoliti-
cal commentary in the film.
The humorous critique of the stereotypes of the two families focuses on
gender and class differences that are highlighted through editing techniques.
Cremata Malberti uses ‘parallel montages [to] illustrate the complexity of
Cubanness’ (Stock 2009: 158). As shots of Jorgito in his modest home are
juxtaposed to ones of Malú in the decaying elegance of her family’s home, the
socio-economic differences distinguishing the two families are emphasized.
Despite their differences, however, they are nevertheless both Cuban. For
example, though the use of the split screen marks the difference between the
two mothers, it is also very effective in pointing out the similarities and paral-
lels in their lives. Both women struggle with the drudgery of their daily routine.
Malú’s mother is desperate to leave Cuba on the heels of her mother’s death
because, as she states to her interlocutor on the phone, ‘no hay nada aquí para
mí ahora [There’s nothing here for me, now]’. The Cuba represented by her
mother’s generation, and displayed in the family photos of their now dilapi-
dated but probably once stately home, has died along with the mother, and
she is anxious to start a new life outside Cuba. By contrast, Jorgito’s mother is
equally frustrated with her routine as wife and mother. Her husband manages
a construction site and is devoted to his state-supported job, leaving his wife
to take care of all the domestic aspects of their life. Jorgito’s family also lives
in an apartment with much more modest appointments and possessions than
those of Malú’s family home. Though the two women espouse different ideol-
ogies on the surface, they are later brought together by the disappearance of
their children and the mutual distress they are experiencing.
Jorgito and Malú are the exclusive focalization in the majority of the
scenes. Cremata Malberti maximizes the idealization of childhood through the
deployment of a variety of filmic techniques. At the end of one scene in which
the children are walking home from school, an iris-in closes in Jorgito and
Malú as they skip down a Havana street holding hands. Nostalgia is evoked in
this shot through the use of the iris, a nostalgic device used in silent cinema,
leading the spectator to the realization that the children’s happy childhood is
about to disappear. Consequently, during the journey there are long shots of
the children walking aimlessly in the empty countryside, emphasizing their
lack of solidarity during a trying period, or overhead shots that put the specta-
tor in the position of spying on the children. Rosana Diaz Zambrana remarks
further upon a variety of techniques:
Among the filmic resources employed, the lowering of the shot below
eye level, the low-angle shots, and the children’s gaze at the camera
stand out, as when Jorgito looks into the lens while acting like a horse
in front of the class.
(2012: in press)

11. A post-revolutionary childhood
199
The variety of shots and filmic techniques employed by the director rounds
out the portrayal of the children so that their childhood is much more than a
nostalgic metaphor of Cuban collective memory it creates; it is as Stock notes, a
‘[q]uest for community [that] resonates for viewers everywhere’ (2009: 157).
From the selection of music to the use of lighting and the filming of differ-
ent landscapes, Viva Cuba makes an appeal to Cuban solidarity above and
beyond any specific ideology through the charm of the young actors and the
enshrinement of Cuban history and popular culture throughout the film.
References to popular culture contribute to the production of nostalgia and
the appeal to collective memory as can be discerned in the use of Cuban
music, references to the guije and visions of the trains and buses from another
era. The original music by Slim Pezin and Amaury Ramírez Malberti also adds
to the happy tone of the film. The Caribbean sound reflects the energy and
excitement of the children as they undertake their journey, and it also sets
the tone for their more difficult moments. The appearance and deployment of
people and places that are so closely identified with life in Cuba, present and
past, mould and define the reliance on collective memories. The evocation of
memories creates the film’s aura of nostalgia while advocating that a shared
Cuban identity may open a path to the future.
Finally, the depiction of the children in school on two separate occasions
marks the importance of the role of education in the creation of collective
memory. Scenes in which the children pledge their allegiance to Cuba as a
group serve to underscore the fact that Malú and Jorgito’s Cuba, contempo-
rary Cuba, is just as much a part of the collective memory as are the pre-Castro
days. The composition of shots in which youth and tradition are juxtaposed,
the bright, natural lighting and the upbeat, original music all complement the
role of the children which is to balance the optimism associated with a nostal-
gic view of Cuba’s past against the uncertainty that the future represents.
concluSion
As in many recent Latin American films, children protagonists are used to
revisit the past as a way to provide a revised understanding of the present.
Children and adolescents serve to focalize a collective vision of the past. In this
sense, the child focalizer in film constitutes a medium through which to create
a nostalgic commemoration of the nation’s shared history and culture. Often
encoded in an allegorical interpretation, such a commemoration is influenced
by ideology and culture. In Viva Cuba, Jorgito and Malú’s journey through
Cuba commemorates the island’s culture and collective memory through their
encounters with kind characters from the island’s interior. As is often the case,
the child focalizer is ‘double-voiced’ in the sense that she/he provides a vehi-
cle through which we can contemplate the past with a pretension to objectiv-
ity because the child is presumably innocent, and thus more objective.
The film showcases familiar places, flora, fauna and the myths of Cuba
that are part of the Cuban collective consciousness. It validates the memory
of pre-revolutionary Cuba, an element that will appeal to many Cubans,
and it also validates the culture of post-revolutionary Cuba through the
eyes of the children. Malú and Jorgito love Cuba, but not for any ideologi-
cal or patriotic reason. They love Cuba because they are best friends, they
love each other and they have been raised in Cuba. Viva Cuba posits the
problem of the uncertainty of Cuba’s ability to flourish as an autonomous
nation in the twenty-first century. The question of Cuba’s tentative future is

12. Georgia Seminet
200
6. Critic Jeff Farr
interprets the final
scene of Viva Cuba as
reminiscent of the final
scene in 400 Blows:
Viva Cuba! ends on
an enigmatic note,
which recalls the
famous final freeze-
frame of Truffaut’s
400 Blows (1959).
Once again, we
have children
rejecting adult
ways but seeming
to have nowhere
else to turn –
except to the sea.
Although this may
be an ending we
have seen before,
Malberti does avoid
the happy ending.
allegorized in the escapades of Jorgito and Malú, whose fictional adventure
tempers the gravity of the social and economic conditions of the Special
Period. Several reviewers (El país 2006; Havana Journal 2006) have focused
on the film as apolitical, highlighting the beauty of the Cuban countryside
and the charm of the eccentric array of people that populate the rural regions
of the island. It has also been analysed as a tender coming-of-age story set
in a road movie.
Much has been made regarding the final shot of the film where Jorgito
and Malú embrace at land’s end on the Punta de Maisí. The ocean and the
horizon are before them, and their fighting parents are behind them. We can
identify with the sadness of the two children being split up, and we also feel
sadness for the loss of innocence as they realize their journey has been in
vain. The fate of Jorgito and Malú represents the fate of the nation. Neither
the children nor the nation wants to let go of childhood, a post-revolutionary
childhood in this case, and the nostalgic tone of the film pays homage to this.6
Davis writes of nostalgia that
Generational nostalgic sentiment […] creates as it conserves. It creates
because the past is never something simply there just waiting to be
discovered. Rather, the remembered past like all other products of human
consciousness is something that must constantly be filtered, selected,
arranged, constructed, and reconstructed from collective experience.
(2011: 450)
The end of the film poses a question: Where will Cuba go from here?
Globalization is a destabilizing force that threatens Cuba and Cuban identity
just as it does the rest of the world’s cultures. Diaz Zambrana writes,
with the focalization of the child in Viva Cuba, we see his/her
restitution – through the proximity and subjectivity of the camera – his
astonished gaze, and also his agency to rearm history and offer new
strategies to navigate the repercussions of politics and ideology […]
(2012: in press)
Though the mythical return may be impossible, and change is inevitable, the
film nevertheless suggests that the nation will find strength in its collective
memories of the past grounded in common myths and the natural beauty of
the Cuban countryside as well as the vibrancy of its youth. In conclusion, the
post-revolutionary childhood portrayed in Viva Cuba reminds us of the words
of Martínez Heredia in the epigraph to this article that invoke the same tone
of apprehension tinged with nostalgia that spectators feel as they ponder the
representation of Cuban identity in the film.
acKnowledGementS
I would like to thank the guest editor and the anonymous reader for their
guidance and thoughtful comments in the final revisions of this article.
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SuGGeSted citation
Seminet, G. (2011), ‘A post-revolutionary childhood: Nostalgia and collective
memory in Viva Cuba’, Studies in Hispanic Cinemas 8: 2, pp. 189–202,
doi: 10.1386/shci.8.2.189_1
contributor detailS
Georgia Seminet is Assistant Professor at St. Edward’s University in Austin,
Texas. Her area of concentration is modern Latin American narrative. Her
current research centres on metaphors of globalization in contemporary Latin
American literature and culture. She is currently working on a manuscript
tentatively entitled Delirium, Chaos, and Instability: Metaphors of Globalization
in Latin American Narrative. Her most recent project is a co-edited volume
entitled Representing History, Class and Gender in Spain and Latin American:
Children and Adolescents in Film, due out in 2012 with Palgrave Macmillan.
Contact: St.Edward’s University,3001 South CongressAvenue,Austin,TX 78704,
USA.
E-mail: georgias@stedwards.edu

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