Sergio struggles to depart from his bourgeois mentality, but he prides individuality over sociopolitical cohesion in post-revolutionary Cuba. Sergio's diary, presented in a voiceover, exposes personal struggles and contradictions. He tries to escape his “stupid Cuban bourgeois” backgrounds by staying in post-revolutionary Cuba, yet maintains a middle class life style and avoids political activity. He is presented as a hypocrite when he seeks revenge upon those who shaped his bourgeois mentality. Reminiscing over his teenage years, Sergio labels his best friend's father a “freethinker”, only to explain that "he gave [his son] a peso a week for the whorehouse". This acerbic comment does not preclude Sergio from admitting that he also patronized it weekly. Presently, Sergio regards his fellow socialite Pablo as a crass and self-congratulating "asshole", yet Pablo was one of his closest friends who shared his bourgeois mentality. “Pablo is me, everything I don’t want to be,” the bitter and directionless character admits in a detached tone. Yet in the name of protecting individuality, Sergio’s defense mechanism prevents him from partaking social responsibility. Without taking risks to change his situation and remaining conscious of everyone’s shortcomings, Sergio preserves a sick pride and narcissistic dignity that he regards as essential for a conscious individual.
Despite Sergio’s status as a member of the elite and a misfit in the construction of Socialist Cuba, Sergio is not reduced to a caricature. The film adaptation of Desnoe’s first-person novella uses Sergio’s voiceover comments sparingly, allowing more room for the cinematic language and creating a whimsical and humorous character. A contrasting street scene reveals tension between metropolitan consumerism and post-revolutionary Cuba through pure cinematic language. Both Sergio and the audience observe different women on the streets through a series of point-of-view medium close-up shots. Most are dressed in fashion and have chic hairstyles. One of them eats an ice cream. This follows a shot of the main character stopping by a book store. Individual consumerist behaviors are contrasted with the national narrative of Socialism, which is represented by this book store crammed with socialist texts. He later assigns depoliticized explanations for the “underdeveloped” women: they are adapting to a tumultuous time period in an “atmosphere [that] is too soft.” This observation spares the regime as responsible for the tensions, but at the same time questions the purpose and logic of political language during an increasingly politicized society.
As an intellectual and aspiring writer, Sergio’s sensitivity towards language is shown through his sporadic and spontaneous critiques. They are presented through a nonlinear and subjective collage. In the scene where Sergio overlooks the city through a telescope, he comments on wherever the lenses lands on, ranging from people to monuments. The removed Imperialist eagle reminds Sergio of Pablo Picasso’s promised dove replacement and hypocrisy: "It's real easy to be a Communist and millionaire in Paris." Desnoes himself is not spared: Sergio mocks the author as the latter lights a cigar during a discussion panel. “You would be nothing abroad. But here, you have a place. Lack of competition makes you feel important,” Sergio thought in his mind.
While Sergio’s comments are not organized, they are at times extremely political. Unlike the reclusive writer who imagines a fictitious world in order to compensate for life’s dismal realities, Sergio observes and reflects on local events. He remains conscious and open to his contradicting surroundings because he desires to grasp a concrete understanding of his time and place. In one scene, when the vulgar friend Pablo claims to have an apolitical conscience, Sergio ponders upon dialectics of the group and individual in terms of assigning responsibility and guilt. Sergio’s Marxist analysis of the Bay of Pigs incident is accompanied with emotional accusations from the victims and dissociating defenses from the invaders, as the mise-en-scene shows a montage edited from newsreels, contrasting violence and hunger with scenes of industrialization and socializing elites. While the Cuban socialist regime is not specifically targeted in Sergio’s nonlinear comments, it is not spared from philosophical speculations that include all political systems. Rooted in teenage memories, Sergio saw a mutual relationship between justice and power when schools of preaching priests were replaced with indoctrinating Communists. Sergio’s political reflections expose contradictions of a post-revolutionary society, yet he understands that certain shortcomings are not only caused by class strictures, political affiliation or lack of education, but also by universal human flaws.
Sergio never wanted to live a life that was motivated by self-interests and egotistical desires like people on either side of the Cold War. Sergio’s political disengagement enables him to criticize and satirize everything. Once he decides for political commitment, he will have a more systematic view of the world, but to Sergio, the ability for free thought is worth more. Sergio shows that the individual, unlike a polity, is not directed by a general guideline. Although he tries to relate to his increasingly politicized surroundings, his efforts fail to establish a coherent understanding. He does not follow any existing tradition or ideology in hope to preserve his sensibility and multitude.
For Sergio’s unrelenting efforts, self-reflective attitude and idiosyncratic philosophy, some Western metropolitan critics perceive Sergio as an “intellectual antihero like the young Mastroianni in a film by Antonioni or Fellini” . Yet the crisis within Sergio is specific to Latin American intellectuals who faced similar tensions during their societies’ post-revolutionary stages. Desgarramiento, which is an ideological rupture with the past, challenges the intellectuals of revolutionary Latin America to redefine their roles. By exploring the intellectual’s role dialectical tensions between language and action in a revolution, Desnoes and other well-known writers participate in a roundtable discussion on “Literature and Underdevelopment” in a self-reflexive Third Cinema moment. Intellectuals explore their global status and how to further the revolutionary efforts through literature. Yet the discussion is dismissed by an American, Jack Gelber, who suggests that a total revolution should not be represented by traditional forms. A revolutionary society is motivated primarily by passion and active commitment, which is challenging for intellectuals accustomed to rational evaluation and dry discussion. Unlike “the People”, intellectuals theorize more often than practice revolution—and they share Sergio’s experiences of loss of individuality and critical thinking in a highly politicized environment.
As Latin Americans, the author and director each have different reasons for choosing a subtle narrative over a propagandistic one: While Alea believes that portraying a trapped bourgeois intellectual would motivate “the People” of Cuba to examine their own contradictions and commit more to the revolution, Desnoes wishes to capture specific aspects of the intellectual’s identity crisis within the revolutionary process. Through Sergio’s nuanced character, Desnoes empathizes with the dispassionate and nonpartisan intellectual and sketches a rough self-portrait. In an issue of Cine Cubano Desnoes says that “there is a struggle between the best products of the bourgeois way of life—education, travel and money—and an authentic revolution” . While Memories critiques Sergio for his bourgeois mentality in post-revolutionary Cuba, it also explores the tensions presented to an observant and nonpartisan intellectual in a polarized environment. The environment pressures the nonpartisan individual to choose between sides, yet either choice contains the risk of losing integrity and individuality.
The contradictions of Sergio’s life in an increasingly politicized setting lead him to destruction. The tragic ending of Memories does not celebrate the demise of a class enemy, but expresses worries for the intellectual as an individual freethinker in post-revolutionary Cuba. While visiting Ernest Hemingway’s Havana house, Sergio consciously compares himself with Hemingway: Both are depressed and escape from their overwhelming social reality. They cage themselves in Cuba, which becomes increasingly polarized and foreign to them. Instead of taking sides, Sergio eventually accepts his alienation and quietly stares into an abyss while collaged images of the world is raucous as ever, “talking about war like it’s a game”. Sergio is exhausted and refuses to think any further, acknowledging the fact that no matter how conscious he understands his situation, nuclear war will annihilate him along with the other “stupid bourgeois” and proletariats. He is a vulnerable individual facing an overwhelming social environment that groups people by political commitment. Despite criticizing the intellectual’s apathy relating it to his bourgeois upbringing, the nuanced film does not celebrate the destruction of Sergio; rather, it mourns the loss of the intellectual’s individuality.
Notes
Alea, Tomás, and Edmundo Desnoes. Memories of Underdevelopment. New Brunswick: Rutgers University Press, 1990. P19
Cham, Mbye B. Exiles: essays on Caribbean cinema. Trenton, N.J.: Africa World Press, 1992.
Meyerson, Michael. Memories of Underdevelopment: The Revolutionary Films of Cuba. New York: Grossman Publishers, 1973.
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