The Cuban regime never misses a chance to transform the mundane into a grand narrative. This time, the stage was set at the headquarters of the Communist Party of Cuba (PCC) during a film screening.
In the dim light of the auditorium, Miguel Díaz-Canel and his loyal sidekick, Roberto Morales Ojeda, sat together to watch "Nora," the latest patriotic thriller by filmmaker Roly Peña. State media hailed it as an act of "revolutionary culture," but to any honest observer, it was a private propaganda screening.
The movie, inspired by "real events," narrates the tale of a Cuban spy infiltrating alleged "terrorist groups in Miami," a recurring motif used by the government to divert attention from pressing issues like hunger, blackouts, or mass migration.
In the real Cuba, secret agents haven’t infiltrated anything in a while; it's the everyday Cubans who must hide their opinions to survive. Yet, in the ICAIC universe, where fiction and obedience blur, the heroine Nora becomes a symbol of "resistance and sovereignty."
Following the screening, the PCC's first secretary attempted to appear moved. "There are many people in our country like Nora and David," he declared with a rehearsed expression, as if reading from the film's script.
Morales Ojeda nodded along, as he is easily swayed by the propagandist rhetoric he crafts for the "leader of continuity."
The audience, mostly composed of Party officials, cultural functionaries, and grateful actors, completed the ritual with applause.
The president of ICAIC, Alexis Triana, and director Roly Peña used the occasion to reiterate their "commitment to revitalizing Cuban cinema," according to the PCC's official statement.
The phrase sounds cruel coming from those responsible for sidelining the true Cuban cinema—the critical, independent films that expose censorship and depict reality—from official theaters.
Directors like Miguel Coyula or Carlos Lechuga, who dare to film outside the ideological script, are banished to obscurity. Meanwhile, state studios produce a cinematic version of Granma with public funding and guaranteed applause.
"I don't need to import heroes; I have them in my history," Peña declared, basking in the approval of those present, omitting one detail: the real heroes of Cuban cinema are not in his official history but in exile or anonymity. They exist in censored films, banned documentaries, and at festivals where ICAIC is notably absent.
Peña's heroes, on the other hand, are recycled figures from the stagnant revolutionary imagination, crafted from the remnants of the Wasp Network and Fisherman Julios to sustain a narrative that no one believes anymore.
The evening concluded with the distribution of posters and photographs for the Ideological Department's archives. Díaz-Canel and Morales Ojeda received their posters with the same solemnity as others might receive medals.
Even Teresa Amarelle Boué, Secretary of the Federation of Cuban Women, received a poster "in recognition of the role of women in the history of the Motherland."
Everything was meticulously documented for the official press: smiles, embraces, and slogans. No mention, of course, of closed cinemas, auditoriums without air conditioning, or the lack of materials for screenings in the provinces.
"Nora" aims to be a "spy thriller" but inadvertently becomes a metaphor for the very system that funds it: a story of simulation, fear, and feigned loyalties. Instead of suspense, it offers slogans; instead of conflict, obedience; and instead of truth, propaganda.
Ultimately, official Cuban cinema remains loyal to its sole genre: revolutionary fiction. A cinema that seeks not to stir emotions but to persuade; that does not reflect life but the Party's script; and that, like Díaz-Canel in the central seat, keeps watching a screen that no one outside their bubble wants to see illuminated.
Insights into Cuban Propaganda Cinema
What is the film "Nora" about?
"Nora" is a patriotic thriller that tells the story of a Cuban spy infiltrating supposed "terrorist groups" in Miami, drawing from "real events" to craft its narrative.
How does the Cuban regime use cinema for propaganda?
The Cuban regime uses cinema as a tool for propaganda by producing films that align with its ideological narrative, often sidelining independent and critical filmmakers who portray reality and challenge censorship.
How are independent Cuban filmmakers affected by the regime?
Independent Cuban filmmakers who film outside the official script face ostracism and their works are often banned, preventing them from being shown in official theaters or at state-supported film festivals.