I went to this movie thinking I was going to see the greatest living artists in Cuba, or something close to that. This, the artists chosen for this movie were not. It wasn't until over halfway through that I discovered why. Suddenly instead of being in Havana, Cuba, we were in Boston, Massachusetts. WTF. Oh! we are looking at some gallery that exhibits Cuban artists. Wait! I know that place. I live in the area. Sometimes, I go to the SOWA galleries off Washington Street. This gallery is there. Usually my friends and I just skip this place because the artists are, well, mediocre, maybe cutesy, maybe using cubist or like techniques that were old fifty years ago. They are not downright bad, like some of the art in the SOWA galleries. They are mediocre.
Somehow, the guy who made this film became friends with the owner of this gallery, who must have given him an open introduction to all the artists in his "stable". So instead of doing the hard legwork necessary to really find out the great living artists of Cuba, the filmmaker just had an easy, lazy work of it. Unfortunately that meant that I missed out on a real film with the real artists of Cuba who are doing really great stuff. That will come sometime later. I HOPE.
Finally, I am interested in artists because of their visual imagination. I am not interested in them as talking heads--which is what they are in this movie.
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