mikhail kalatozov | i am cuba

started only a week after the cuban missile crisis and designed to be cuba’s answer to both sergei eisenstein’s propaganda masterpiece, potemkin and godard’s freewheeling romance, rreathless, i am cuba turned out to be something quite unique — a wildly schizophrenic celebration of communist kitsch, mixing slavic solemnity with latin sensuality. the plot, or rather plots, feverishly explore the seductive, decadent world of batista’s cuba — deliriously juxtaposing images of rich americans and bikini-clad beauties sipping cocktails poolside with scenes of ramshackle slums filled with hungry children and gaunt old people. using wide-angle lenses that distort and magnify and filters that transform palm trees into giant white feathers, urusevsky’s acrobatic camera achieves wild gravity-defying angles as it glides effortlessly through long continuous shots. but i am cuba is not just a catalog of bravura technique — it also succeeds in exploring the innermost feelings of the characters and their often desperate situations.