From Babalu Blog
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The Lost City

There are moments in your life, events that took place when you were a child that you dont particularly remember but that your family has always told you about. Not necessarliy good events, but painful ones. Things that are better left unsaid, but that you feel you have a duty to recall, if only to understand and honor your family and what they went through and sacrficed for freedom. You create this picture of these events in your mind, understanding that sacrifice and that pain they must have endured.

There is one particular scene in The Lost City - one scene among many - where the protagonist goes through a moment that my parents, like all Cuban exile parents and their children, have gone through. I was too young to remember it, but the film gave it to me. It was surreal really, as if Garcia was telling me, personally, "Hey, remember this that your family has always told you about but try as you might you cant remember? Well, here it is."

And then BAM. You get walloped by the pain. You get walloped by all the emotions surrounding that event and they mix together somehow with your knowledge and understanding of it and take you to a place within yourself that youve never been to. And among all that pain and emotion and the haze of time and memory, there is clarity beyond measure.

I was discussing this particulary scene with a guy I met after the film, A Cuban-American a few years younger than I, explaining to him this exact same thing when he stopped me in mid-sentence and said "Did you catch a glimpse of the two little kids in that scene?"

I nodded. Told him that it had blown me away.

"Those two kids," he said. "Were my father and my uncle." His uncle, who had recently passed away, had worked on the music of the film and had related his experience to Andy Garcia and Andy felt that it was so powerful that he had to put it in the film. I cannot even begin to tell you how hard it was for me to fight back the tears right then and there.

This is difficult to write, obviously, as I do not want to give anything away of the movie. You need to experience those moments along with the characters and without foresight to live their reality. Our reality.

The Lost City is incredibly powerful. It will take you on this journey to a time and place in history, and if youre Cuban a place in your life, that was the beginning of the tragic demise of a country and the erosion and separation of the Cuban family. It's a love story, yes. But that love is a metaphor to help us understand the pain of loss and circumstance.

It was raining when Maggie and I arrived at the theater. We were early and we sat down at a table to wait. A gentleman came up to us and asked if he could join us, he looked familiar, was very cordial. "Sure," we said. And for some reason, while we were discussing the weather, my wife mentioned that she freaks out sometimes because I like to swim in our pool when its pouring rain.

"There's nothing like being underwater while it's raining," I said.

The gentleman agreed. "I love it." He said.

We chatted for another while and learned that this gentleman was actually Juan Fernandez and played the role of Fulgensio Batista in the film.

Now, imagine my surprise, while sitting there watching the movie, and in the very first scene where Batista appears, he is shown swimming in a pool while it's raining. It was surreal. After the film, Luis told us that he had taken that conversation with us as a sign and that he hadnt told us of that scene because he wanted us to truly appreciate it.

Forgive me if this post, these thoughts on The Lost City seem to ramble. I am still coming to terms with much of it. There is a lot to absorb. A lot of hurt, a lot of frustration, a lot of what if's. Not about the movie, but about what it portrays. There are some unbelievably devastating scenes throughout the film that I simply cannot tell you about.

The music in the film is incredible. From beginning to end you hear the best of Cuban music ever played. Rumba, son, cha cha cha. Danzon. There is one scene where you see Beny More doing his thing. The actor that plays him is superb. It is almost like seeing old Beny himself live and in color.

You will hate Che. Jsu Garcia does a masterful job at catching the murderers true colors. So good is his interpretation of Che that you find yourself wondering if Andy Garcia had any trouble trying not to strangle him while on set. Finally, a film that depicts the truth about the murderous bastard.

The love interest, Ines Sastre, is stunning. A solid performance throughout, and a very congenial woman in person. And ladies, my wife was enthralled by the costumes, particularly the dresses Ms. Sastre wears throughout the film.

Steven Bauer, who, incidentally, let me have one of his passes to view the film, (Gracias Steven!!) does an incredible job in his supporting role, and while he is not on screen for too long, his performance will tear your heart out. And you cant help but think that what happens to him, happened to so many who were innocent and will, unfortunately, happen again in Cuba's future.

You'll love Bill Murrays performance. He is classic Bill Murray and I wont say anything else about his role so as not to ruin it for you.

And Andy is Andy. A masterful job as Fico and a superb effort in not only producing the film, but staying true to Cabrera Infante's work. I am unbelievably proud of Garcia and his unrelenting efforts with this labor of love.

I could go on and on. The entire cast was superb, the production was more than solid and the cinematography was excellent. A couple people I spoke to mentioned that they thought it was abit long, run time is 2:17, but I would gladly have sat through another two hours.

In essence, all I can say about the film is that you simply must see it for yourself. You will find yourself sitting in a theater with sobs all around. Tears will flow, heartwrenching moments will be lived, sadness will overwhelm you.

En fin, igual que Cuba. Just like Cuba.