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hispanic research journal, vol. 9, No.

2, 2008, 147–163

‘New’ Latin American Cinema and
Authorship: Old Wine in New Bottles?
University of Warwick

University College London

Universidad Nacional Autónoma de México

By analysing the recent work of three of the mainstays of the New
Latin American Cinema of the 1960s and 1970s — the Argentine Fernando
Solanas, the Cuban Julio García Espinosa, and the Bolivian Jorge Sanjinés
—, this article focuses on the notion of film authorship to question these
filmmakers’ uses of it as a means of lending historical depth and narrative
continuity to their careers, which are indissolubly linked to their respective
political and ideological agendas. In parallel, and given the persistence of a
socially committed Latin American cinema that is manifest not just in the
films of such ‘classic’ directors but also in those of a new generation of
Latin American filmmakers, this paper ponders the possibilities and the
reach of reading such a cinema from an auteur-oriented critical perspective.
Furthermore, given the prominence and importance of film authorship
throughout the history of Latin American cinema, the article asks to
what extent these directors’ recent productions — and indeed the whole
‘New Latin American Cinema’ project itself — really do constitute a clean
break with their previous work, or whether they are simply recycling
tried-and-tested strategies.

As radical social movements and political upheavals have taken on an increasingly
high profile in Latin America in recent years, the political, economic and aesthetic
problematics raised by the ‘Third’, ‘Imperfect’, ‘Hungry’, and ‘New’ cinemas of the
1960s and 1970s have acquired a new relevance. The continent’s presence on the
global cinematic marketplace has been dominated since the early 1990s by an
© Queen Mary, University of London 2008

DOI 10.1179/174582008X272842

but also a belief that the assumptions surrounding the sometimes mystical figure of the auteur must be interrogated and historicized. . . Furthermore. . Yet at the same time many of the ‘old guard’ of directors who held aloft the continent’s cinematographic banner some three to four decades ago have retained or renewed their urge to create a cinema truly committed to its surrounding reality.148 CONSTANZA BURUCÚA.2 Underlying this article is a recognition that the notion of film authorship is of considerable value and relevance to these directors’ work. Comolli & Narboni 1969. A useful compilation of writing by practitioners and theorists of the New Latin American Cinema is Martin 1997. economic. energetic and iconoclastic new generation of filmmakers. such as Mexico’s Alejandro González Iñárritu and Brazil’s Fernando Meirelles. asking what these stalwarts of the New Latin American Cinema of the 1960s and 1970s still share. the Cuban Julio García Espinosa. promotion. The following year García Espinosa visited University College London as a guest of honour to deliver a series of talks on contemporary Cuban cinema. or thematic motifs’. seeking once more to harness the medium first and foremost as a tool for social change. the notion of the 1960s-1970s New Latin American Cinema as a political and aesthetic vanguard is ‘an attempt to impose unity on a number of diverse cinematic practices’. While the politique des auteurs was conceived in 1950s France as a retroactive ‘operation of decipherment’ performed by critics on existing films in order to ‘reveal [. analytical and aesthetic terms.] a core of meanings. in practical. thereby elevating the filmmaker from craftsman to artist (Wollen 1998: 51). Other good studies of the New Latin American Cinema include Chanan 1983 and Pick 1993. Solanas and Sanjinés screened their latest films — Memoria del saqueo / A Social Genocide and Los hijos del último jardín / Sons of the Last Garden. Key texts in the formulation of the politique des auteurs and theories of authorship include Truffaut 1954. For a wide selection of critical and theoretical writing on the subject. in Latin America it was reconverted — as Julianne Burton has perceptively observed (1985: 3) — into a political manifesto that justified ‘the appropriation of the film medium to non-commercial ends and [. and Wollen 1998. and the Bolivian Jorge Sanjinés. Astruc 1968. Bazin 1967. who combine social commentary with a pragmatic commercialism.3 We set out here to analyse the various uses that these directors have made of film authorship as they seek to lend historical depth and narrative continuity to their political agendas. see Caughie 1981. circulation. see Cook & Bernink 1999: 235–318. García Espinosa and Sanjinés have rejected the notion of the visionary auteur with its hierarchical connotations of individual artistic genius. respectively — as part of career retrospectives in the 2004 Discovering Latin America Film Festival. and she challenges its claim to being a radical break with the past by pointing out its interlocking interests with existing and developing national cinema traditions in the continent.] the consequent transformation of the modes of filmic production’. ET AL. . What is the present-day relevance of the strategies they employed in years gone by to overcome the financial and practical vicissitudes of producing socially committed cinema? How have they revisited and/or reworked previous approaches to film production and aesthetics? What are the relations between a new and changing Latin American reality and their recent production strategies?1 For all that Solanas. in London. their films’ financing. we ask how an auteur-oriented critical perspective — an analysis attributing the 1 2 3 For Ana López (1997). . For comprehensive overviews of authorship theories. and critical acclaim since the 1960s owe much to the authorial gravitas that has accumulated around their public personas. The present article looks at recent productions by the Argentine Fernando Solanas.

some Latin American film auteurs have over the last decade sought to resist mere standardization of global film patterns by channelling some of the territorial dynamics [. not mutually exclusive. Thus. authorship has always been a highly influential category in the international circulation of the continent’s cinema: auteurs have traditionally acted as ‘mediators between the business and the art of Latin American film’ who are ‘forced to negotiate their own political and artistic visions in accordance with the commercial demands of global film finance arrangements’. or are they merely repackaging old strategies as they strive to remain relevant to today’s world? The Hour of the Social Genocide (by Constanza Burucúa) Fernando Solanas’s status as an auteur. As Marvin D’Lugo points out (2003: 103). In D’Lugo 2003. . Since its release. and ask to what extent this process upholds the creative artistic energy of the New Latin American Cinema of the 1960s and 1970s. what are the current-day uses of an auteur-status earned some three to four decades in the past? How has the figure of the auteur at the political and aesthetic vanguard of filmmaking altered in tune with a changing set of social realities? How does the continuing presence of such directors in the international cinemascape affect global perceptions of Latin America? Can a study of such directors signal a shift in the notion of film authorship? The three cases studied here suggest that global marketing and social commitment are (and always were) interdependent. this article asks. Solanas’s latest film has been concomitant with the acknowledgement — both national and international — of its director’s long trajectory as a filmmaker committed to both his country and his craft. where the Argentine filmmaker was awarded an honorary Golden Bear for lifetime achievement. (2003: 112) . . We consider here the specific ways in which three filmmakers have used their authorial personas strategically to promote specific political agendas while legitimating their own voices as commentators on the realities portrayed.] into a new form of identity politics. As Solanas. we ask. a film that marked the return of the director of the canonical La hora de los hornos / The Hour of the Furnaces (1968) to documentary. To better understand Solanas’s position as a Latin American auteur. and Sanjinés in their own ways reformulate their radical positions of the 1960s and 1970s. it seems pertinent to begin by bringing in here some of Marvin D’Lugo’s ideas in this respect. can be thought of as having been fully legitimized and consecrated at the 2004 edition of the Berlin International Film Festival. The prize accompanied the world premiere of Memoria del saqueo / A Social Genocide (2004). are they still offering something new to global cinematic dialogue. he argues that While seeming to exploit or promote the cultural capital of their respective national cinemas as globally marketable commodities. although not new. categories for these filmmakers. as an Argentine one. García Espinosa. or more specifically. The New Latin American Cinema thus appears less as the clean break with the past that Solanas & Getino’s utopian ‘Third Cinema’ would have had us believe (Solanas & Getino 1983) than as a historically-determined variation on an age-old set of themes and problems regarding authorship that have characterized Latin American cinema.‘NEW’ LATIN AMERICAN CINEMA 149 meaning of the filmic text to the vision of an individual — can help or hinder an understanding of the nature of their recent work.

more émigrés and dead people than State terrorism and the Malvinas War. such as the black and white explicative captions between sections. in his films. As Solanas himself likes to say. which were followed by El Viaje / The Voyage (1992) and La Nube / The Cloud (1998). the film evidences this fact. after portraying the position of Latin American film auteurs as cultural and commercial mediators between Latin American and international film interests (2003: 107). Solanas established his authorial persona by becoming the spokesperson of the redemocratization process that marked Argentina’s political scene after the return of democracy in 1983 and which is conflated. el exilio de Gardel / Tangos. Solanas has gained the right to have his voice heard more loudly. more or less involuntarily. Thanks mainly to Tangos. Following such a strong prologue. with the revitalization of Peronist ideology (Newman: 1993) and its associated and characteristic blend of nationalist and populist politics. D’Lugo describes Solanas’s reputation as deriving from ‘the effort by the filmmaker to promote the national politics of ‘redemocratization’ through the self-conscious foregrounding of his own auteurist practices’ (2003: 110). far from being exhibited in clandestine meetings as La hora de los hornos was in the late 1960 and the early 1970s. which sponsored special projections of the film for secondary school students. after a ten-minute long sequence in which the events of the 20 December 2001 are presented in all their violence. for his latest film picks up the thread of history approximately where his first one left it. Yet both the director and the country have changed between the late 1960s and 2004 and. Thus. adopting the same episodic structure as the 1968 documentary. In this sense too. Solanas clearly expounds the film’s main thesis: [Argentina] has been devastated by a new type of aggression. sharing with it some visual elements. Memoria del saqueo is entirely narrated by its director. for example. Whereas in La hora de los hornos there were three different narrating voices. ET AL. one of them Solanas’s. Following these ideas.150 CONSTANZA BURUCÚA. The gravity with which he pronounces this statement is further accentuated by the image in close-up of a child who is losing his capacity to breathe while dying of malnutrition at a public hospital. Thus. After those four fiction films. by means of a quotidian and silenced violence that has left more social victims. Memoria del saqueo was not just commercially released in Argentina on 18 March 2004 but it also got strong support from the national government. Thus. and perpetuating Solanas’s acknowledged talent for sequences constructed upon the classic principles of ideological montage. then. Memoria del saqueo is the continuation of La hora de los hornos. the social upheaval that accompanied Argentina’s 2001 economic crash inspired Solanas to return to the documentary format as a means of denouncing the consequences of neo-liberal democracies and their corresponding economic policies as they translated onto a local level. the Exile of Gardel (1985) and Sur / The South (1988). executed in peace and democracy. the aim of this piece is to focus on Memoria del saqueo as a means of throwing some new light on this controversial filmmaker’s career and its characteristic thematic and stylistic trademarks. the same voice has become a different voice: having been legitimized both as the national auteur par excellence and as a committed political actor within Argentine politics. the film begins to expose the historical roots of Argentina’s economic dependency in a way that remains dependent upon Solanas’s .

Hence. although the epicentre of the 2001 riots was Buenos Aires. while promoting himself as an authoritative voice of the national vicissitudes for more than three decades. perhaps the most difficult to watch are those of a dying child at a public hospital (a different one from that previously mentioned) and the helpless mother. the director seems to have all the answers to the questions he poses. It is in this respect that the film exposes its flaws. Despite a tendency in Argentine cinema to neglect the interior of the country. although promoting debate in a country not used to it and which throughout the 1990s suffered a kind of historical amnesia (partly as a cultural consequence of the successive amnesty laws granted to the military between 1986 and 1990). in Tangos and Sur Solanas sidestepped the question of the disappeared by concentrating on external and internal exile respectively. which come from the province of Tucumán. children being nourished from waste in a country that was once proudly called the granary of the World. despite the empathetic appeal that some sequences may raise (i. former finance minister Domingo Cavallo. Yet Memoria del saqueo should still be acknowledged for its achievements. while in these two films Solanas’s self-referential allusions to both his life and films become something of a signature trademark. who are either ‘good’ (the worker. the film offers a detailed portrayal of how the crisis affected the most impoverished regions of the country. This last point would not be particularly problematic if it was not that we are dealing here with the work of a director who. entitled ‘The social genocide’. for which the last military regime is partly held responsible. for example. complex historical processes are read in terms of a polarization of social actors. what the director broadly catalogues as ‘the people’) or ‘bad’ (the military. In section nine. has systematically avoided articulating any kind of critical discourse about the fate of those who opposed the military regime.e.‘NEW’ LATIN AMERICAN CINEMA 151 Manichean vision of history. while his interviewees are all people who manifestly agree with his point of view. by focusing on the damaging social impact of neo-liberal policies. the film still delivers an oversimplified version of history. in his latest film Solanas turns to the interior of the country to show the areas that were worst affected by what he calls the neo-liberal genocide of the 1990s. with the living conditions of aboriginal tribes and in El viaje he alluded to the impact of Menem’s economic policy by ironically representing a vastly flooded country. Solanas’s work has generally tended to portray the nation as the unequal whole that it is. already evident in La hora de los hornos (King 1990: 87). Solanas presents some of the most striking images of the film. the poor. Firstly. who silently sits by his bedside unable to do anything but wait for the worst to . the corrupt privatization of the oil industry and other key economic sectors) and the numerous. former president Carlos Menem). statistics with which Solanas aims to sustain his arguments. After openly encouraging young left-wing militants to take death as an option in the last section of La hora de los hornos. On the other hand. whereas in La hora de los hornos he dealt. In Memoria del saqueo. for example. With no confronting or challenging voice included. On the one hand. the reticence to assume historical responsibility himself can also be taken as a defining feature of his work. Solanas keeps aside from his historical analysis the thousands of people that disappeared during the last military dictatorship. Solanas’s film is still a monological text. Thus. and at some points confusing. Thus. Among these images.

this 2004 film shows how and why the current state of things seems to have worsened. Historically aligning 20 December 2001 with 17 October 1945 — the date of birth of Peronism — and with the 1969 popular insurgency known as El Cordobazo. While La hora de los hornos closed on the static image of a dead Che Guevara. As Solanas has commented on those images. manages to provoke in the spectator a visceral emotion. In this same section. there is one key aspect that clearly differentiates these two documentaries and it concerns their respective endings. even if the viewer disagrees in some respects with the director’s political standpoint and with his interpretation of history. Following this line of thinking.152 CONSTANZA BURUCÚA. Yet throughout this scene of the child. In the film’s last section. one gets the feeling that Solanas is pushing such questions to a different level. Memoria del saqueo finishes on a much more optimistic and dynamic note. the vast amounts of garbage on which children play while trying to find something to eat becomes a clear visual translation of the impoverishment of the country. However. accompanied on the soundtrack only by the sound of the machines around him. Thus. Hence. and the arguments in this respect have been associated primarily with the representability of the Holocaust and/or torture. But perhaps more interesting is the aural montage of the film’s last sequence. As Robert Stam argues in relation to ‘the redemption of detritus’ (2003: 35). Memoria del saqueo can be thought of as completing Solanas’s first documentary’s assumptions. There could not have been a stronger. and more effective. as Nissa Torrents perceptively observed (1988: 94). Although the diagnosis of the country that Memoria del saqueo postulates does not differ very much from the one La hora de los hornos delivered. ‘the levels of poverty that La hora de los hornos denounced in the 1960s were only the precursor of the neo-liberal genocide of the 1990s’. it is in this regard that. Memoria del saqueo seems to interpret debris ‘as an allegorical text to be deciphered. then. an emblematic figure that the film used to promote death as a glorifying option for those who opposed the system. Solanas declares that Argentina’s implementation of the neo-liberal model finished in hecatomb. The . the mastery with which he manipulates the film medium in order to make his point should still be recognized. a form of social colonics where the truth of a society can be ‘read’ in its waste products’ (2003: 45). ET AL. image than that of this vanishing little life to illustrate what he means by social genocide. Much has been said about the difficulties of representing horror. he proclaims that ‘another history’ is being written. ‘The beginning of the end’. whereas La hora de los hornos was to some extent misleading in its portrayal of Argentina as a Third World country in the context of the 1960s. The sustained image in close-up of this suffering child. The violent images of the December 2001 episode are commented upon by Solanas who. after acknowledging the thirty-four fatalities caused by the street riots. hence perpetuating his fondness for proposing his own interpretation of history as counter-history. happen. proudly announces that those events marked the first Argentine victory against globalization. Memoria del saqueo seems to demonstrate — almost four decades later — that Solanas’s earlier analysis has in fact become a sad historical prediction. Thus. Solanas also retrieves one of the motifs with which the film opens — that of children looking for food among mountains of waste — to visually strengthen his arguments.

his latest film does make some interesting points about our unequal world. whereas Solanas’s first film offered new insights into the potential of the film medium to depict an until then unrepresented world. namely one which did not need film stars or expensive sets. the hand-held camera. While condemning death instead of encouraging it. The New Aesthetics in Julio García Espinosa’s Reina and Rey (1994) (by Stephen Hart) Julio García Espinosa is perhaps best known for his formulation of the theory of ‘imperfect cinema’ in the 1960s in the afterglow produced by the Cuban Revolution (see Chanan 1983. when Italian neo-Realism was at its height. while a sad tune composed for the film’s soundtrack by Gerardo Gandini is alternated with the recorded shouting of people: ‘El pueblo no se va’. a number of Latin American film directors. The last sounds of the film are a batucada. though. the historical focus of political demonstrations. went to study film in Rome. Thus. non-professional actors. — thereby in effect making a virtue of necessity. along with Tomás Gutiérrez Alea and many others. but it hardly manages to say anything we did not already know about cinema. set about creating a cinematic idiom which could express the new ‘revolutionary’ reality which was opening up before their eyes: .‘NEW’ LATIN AMERICAN CINEMA 153 images of the riots. and despite the overall sympathy that the film manages to provoke in the spectator. which consists of a rhythmic beating of drums. demonstrates to some degree the director’s renewed confidence in what he so broadly understands as ‘the people’. a popular musical manifestation associated with festivities (mainly carnival). which reaches its climax in this carnivalesque ending note. Unfortunately. and the lives of people living in it. etc. promotion and distribution. therefore. in Palestine. and was adapted to fit the local context. low-quality production. namely. led to a formula which caught the imagination of film directors in the so-called developing world. Memoria del saqueo still appears more as a hard and overly ideological documentary of the 1970s than as the mature oeuvre of Argentina’s best-known film auteur. François Truffaut used to say that a good film should simultaneously ‘express an idea of the world and an idea of cinema’ (1980: 6). very basic post-production. then those images fade into a desolate Plaza de Mayo. As García Espinosa recalled. García Espinosa. Film directors in Africa. those who have been following Solanas’s career will probably leave the theatre with an unsettling sense of anachronism. His espousal of a set of factors which had been forced upon the nascent Cuban film industry — low budgets. saw that the ‘imperfections’ of the medium could be used as a means of making a political point. Imbued with the neo-Realist vogue which favoured the creation of an unadorned cinema. His vindication of forms of popular resistance. now in slow motion. Solanas this time seems to propose that reality can be changed by different means. both in visual and aural terms. including myself. lowbudget advertising. in India. Although a crude and effective statement about the powerful impact of neo-liberalism in developing countries. the signifier could itself be a political signified. Hart 2004: 7–11). we went back to our respective countries’ (García Espinosa 2005). by the time it finishes. are accompanied by two women singing an enraged rap about people’s limits of tolerance having been surpassed. he and Gutiérrez Alea went to Italy in the 1950s and immersed themselves in neo-Realism: ‘In the 1950s.

(1952). it can be taken as an allegory to the 1990s but the gas chamber has nothing to do with the Nazis’ gas chamber. Those were really innovatory years. Humberto movie. and this was their revolutionary flag. The world was changing and Latin America was as well.html?v_id=133932 [20 February 2006]. focusing exclusively on Part I. During that magnificent decade of the 1960s some of the best film directors in the world came to visit us [including Cesare Zavattini] and we had the opportunity to open ourselves up to a plural world. . Las aventuras de Juan Quin Quin / The Adventures of Juan Quin Quin (1967) — strove to express the culture of the people.5 (28 November 1994): 97. García Espinosa’s Reina y rey / Queen and King (1994). It soon becomes clear that these apparently accidental or realist details are being used to build up a sense of modern-day Cuba as a concentration camp where people are dying.5 As one character says to Reina when she is worried that Rey has not returned in the evening: ‘dogs are like human beings’. The struggle for a definitive emancipation seemed to be knocking at our doors. Strangely. (García Espinosa 2005) García Espinosa’s contribution to the New Latin American Cinema of those years — his documentary. neither of these reviews refers to Part II of the movie. as it were. In Part II. Colonialism seemed to come crashing down. See also Lisa Nesselson. at least that was not my intention’ (email to author. As García Espinosa has pointed out: ‘In fact. El mégano / The Charcoal Worker (1955) and his humorous feature film. horrified by what she sees — the gas chamber where the dogs are sacrificed — she cannot bring herself to hand her dog over. ‘Queen and King’. Reina.nytimes. it becomes clear that the main dilemma Reina faces is whether she is able to keep her dog. anti-authority humour. music. Variety. co-directed by Vittorio de Sica and Cesare Zavattini. dance — all were used to express the irrepressible culture of every people. Underscoring the parallelism between human beings and dogs. however. Here I intend to analyse a more recent film by García Espinosa. as far as I am aware there are only two short reviews. but. manages to offer an allegory of post-Perestroika Cuba through the simple story of the friendship of an elderly woman.154 CONSTANZA BURUCÚA. García Espinosa thereby manipulates a topos which is common in Latin American 4 5 Sandra Brennan’s review for The New York Times is available at http://movies2. and dedicated to the latter. with her dog. perhaps for political reasons. and assess the ways in which the ‘old’ aesthetics of imperfect cinema have been reformulated in order to express the radical transformation of Cuba’s political trajectory in the 1990s. the chamber cannot be used because the kennels have run out of gas. we note the title in which Rey functions as almost the surrogate husband of Reina. and the other for Variety by Lisa Nesselson. Reina. Rey. ET AL. 357. In a touch of black humour. It was thus that what we could call New Latin American Cinema was born. Carmen returns from Miami to Havana to ‘reclaim’ her home from her servant. The cabaret. to make any reference to the gas chambers of World War II. one in The New York Times by Sandra Brennan. a low-budget film inspired by one of the classics of Italian neo-realism. There is hardly any criticism on this film. 15 July 2005). The world of the dogs — which seems in many ways a re-writing of Vargas Llosa’s novel La ciudad y los perros — throws light on human society in a number of ways.4 As the first half of the film unfolds. There is so much poverty in Havana that everyone has had to give up their dogs and cats: Reina takes Rey to the asilo canino. It was not the director’s intention.

which makes it clear that Rey is a symbol of Cuba’s future Utopia. Carmen and Reina fall out when Reina says that her real name is Yolanda — at which point Carmen blows her top. as the recent film Bombón el Perro (2004). although he does have this role in the film. Reina becomes very distraught. Inexplicably. The scene can be interpreted as the anagnorisis scene in which Reina’s true Cuban revolutionary self is revealed. be seen as an allegory of the dilemmas faced by modern-day Cuba. the first half of the film is filmed in black 6 For a good discussion of symbolism in García Márquez’s novel. re-claim their former house. she becomes paradigmatic of all Cubans. A young man on a bike then asks her if she is waiting for Rey. as if to suggest that the only way they can be fed is via the illicit earnings of prostitution. In many ways he is redolent of the cockerel in Gabriel García Márquez’s story El coronel no tiene quien le escriba. the authentically Cuban and revolutionary woman.‘NEW’ LATIN AMERICAN CINEMA 155 art and film. and they drive off in their red Nissan Sentra to the airport and thence to Miami without her. It is important to note that Rey is fed on two occasions by jineteras (prostitutes) who are walking along the Malecón. In a witty use of the language of film to make a semantic point. they attempt to take Reina back to Miami since they know they will be able to exploit her good habits (hard work with little complaint). To cap the colonialist metaphor. Indeed Rey’s symbolic function within the plot is underscored at the end of the film. . Reina turns back but does not see him since her view is blocked by some passers-by. Rey suddenly appears. When Carmen and her husband arrive. Reina refuses at the last moment to go back with Carmen. in this. Yet Rey is not simply a synecdoche of the human condition. or more particularly those of the 1990s. they turf Reina out of the bedroom. eloquently suggests. This is the point at which the film becomes an allegory of the feared future invasion of Cuba after Castro’s death. we see stray dogs around Havana’s streets or fighting for food on the local rubbish tip (this scene in particular seems to have taken a leaf out of Vargas Llosa’s book). just as she has made her mind up. kowtowing to her rich superiors. García Espinosa’s dog comes to acquire a mysterious depth of symbolic significance. she would never even think about leaving Cuba if there was the slightest possibility that Rey would come back. Reina y rey can. It is important to underscore that this longed-for future does not include the Americanization of Cuba. so distraught that. When walking through Havana with Carmen and the husband. No longer the submissive maid. as suggested above. When they visit the club. Reina becomes Yolanda. and do all the touristy things such as drink champagne while going to the Tropicana club. Carmen gets extremely drunk while the husband goes off with a black prostitute. as a neighbour mentions.6 Reina will not let him go and she would rather starve than give him up (again like the Colonel in El coronel). Reina — the film seems to be telling us — is waiting for a better future and. directed by Carlos Sorín. When Rey disappears. Like García Márquez’s cockerel. The word esperándolo is the concluding word of the film. Apart from at the asilo canino. see Box 2000: 58–82. The thought does not even cross Carmen’s mind that Reina might not want to return. It is only once Reina finally accepts that Rey will not be coming back that she is enticed by her boss Carmen’s offer to leave Havana and go and live with them in Miami. and she says she is.

while the second half. García Espinosa essentially deconstructs the positive value we normally associate with colour. While Reina y rey can. We may recall that the anagnorisis scene occurs during the power blackout. What better way of expressing the poverty of communism and the glitz of capitalism than to film in black and white first and then in colour? But there is of course more to this than meets the eye. while all people here do is think about people in Miami.’ It is of course imperfect cinema. that Reina’s moment of defiance occurs when we see her in the shadows. As one character says: ‘All people in Miami do is think about people over here. As always occurs in García Espinosa’s films. . colour appears when the couple coming from Miami show up. Reina’s residence is now somewhere in between the black and white of Part I and the Technicolor of Part II. ET AL. there is a self-reflexive component to this artistic choice. invades in colour. and white. In effect. has a political function. we see her silhouette swaying backwards and forwards in the rocking chair.156 CONSTANZA BURUCÚA. García Espinosa is able to make a clever point about how Cuban reality is schizoid. at a primary level. (Email from García Espinosa to author. In effect. be seen as a homage to Italian neorealism. in the penultimate scene of the film there occurs a tense merging of two cinematic codes — black and white versus colour — for it is not quite the black and white of Part I or the Technicolor of the beginning of Part II. too. caught between two discourses and two ways of being. when the lights go out we are left with black and white. the only object filmed in colour is the little girl’s red coat as she is led off to her premature grave. for it becomes representative of the exploitative language of US capitalism. However. Filmed with a blue lens. by breaking one of the cardinal rules of Hollywood filmmaking. García Espinosa seeks to use the shuttle between colour and black-and-white to indicate the contrast between First and Second Worlds. but imperfect cinema with a difference since the signifier of the film — the decision to film in an unadorned black and white — becomes a new political signified. on closer inspection it reveals itself to be an artful interrogation of the different codes — black and white realism versus glitzy Americanism — which moves it beyond the dead-end rhetoric of neo-Realism. Nobody’s happy. rather than an aestheticizing cinematography. Colours recede from the film’s mental screen. 15 July 2005) Indeed. the colour of Cuba changes. Rather it offers a concrete embodiment of the dialectical tension of Cuba in the mid1990s. García Espinosa’s use of colour. in order to underline the drabness of Cuba with its poverty and endless queues. which came out the previous year (1993). waiting and hoping. in the last scene when Reina decides not to go to Miami with her bosses. Thus. It is here that the stamp of García Espinosa’s arresting filmic vision — its dialectic chiaroscuro — may be divined. an image perhaps of ‘dialectical’ rebellion. is filmed in colour. to give the sensation of their fake colourful life. from the point at which the bosses arrive from Miami. as it were. It is significant. It is a chiaroscuro of Cuba. Miami. The technique was clearly inspired not only by The Wizard of Oz but also by the more subtle play between black and white and colour in Steven Spielberg’s Schindler’s List. esperándolo. unlike Spielberg’s. Indeed the chiaroscuro as filmic signifier suddenly turns into political signified before our very eyes. As García Espinosa has pointed out: The use of black and white is motivated by the interest in portraying the dullness of old age.

observational. distribution deals. . they perhaps aim for a wider audience reach than do the expository. cultural critics). starring Geraldine Chaplin) to the latest movie Los hijos del último jardín / Sons of the Last Garden (2004). the recent films of the Bolivian director Jorge Sanjinés and his Ukamau Group are somewhat hard to pin down. Cahiers du Cinéma. both to agents of the national cinema (local producers.7 Firmly rooted in Bolivian history and society. and its films’ production values vary considerably from the relatively high-budget Para recibir el canto de los pájaros / To Hear the Birds Singing (1995. Undoubtedly this is in part an upshot of the authorial niche that Sanjinés has carved out at home as the doyen of Bolivian cinema.‘NEW’ LATIN AMERICAN CINEMA 157 Jorge Sanjinés: The Uses and Limits of Film Authorship (by David M. Yet for all their solemn commitment to sociological analysis and political change. counteracting the lies of mainstream media. . J. such as Marta Rodríguez (Colombia) and Patricio Guzmán (Chile). hastily shot. This is true. might shed light on the consistencies and advancement of 7 8 The ‘Ukamau Group’ is the name of the militant filmmaking collective directed by Sanjinés since its formation in Bolivia in the 1960s. . as well as the 1970s coverage by French magazines such as Cinéma. edited and distributed on a digital DV-CAM format. with] an understandable attraction. draws on national issues and stereotypes while being carefully ‘calculated to appeal to the transnational markets of auteur cinema’ (2003: 111). taking the Sanjinés label as a guarantee of both aesthetic quality and a certain political position. Wood) In a world that demands that movies be easily classifiable into types and genres to facilitate production pitches. the Ukamau Group’s production and exhibition practices signal the limitations of an auteurist reading of its films (that for better or for worse. as an aesthetically creative and politically aware artist who speaks the reality of Bolivian society. narrative and stylistic motifs across Sanjinés’s oeuvre. Both Bolivian and foreign criticism of films directed by Sanjinés tends to consider them a coherent and developing body of work. exhibition spaces and critical attention are elusive. The Ukamau Group has always been run on a shoestring. publicity drives and DVD sales. funding sources. I will argue here. as well as to certain international audiences’ (D’Lugo 2003: 111). and may prompt us to re-think some assumptions regarding the authorship of politically-oriented cinema. they speak neither the Hollywood-inflected idiom of many of the continent’s productions that currently tour the global festival circuit. for Marvin D’Lugo. and participatory documentaries made recently by some of Sanjinés’s fellow travellers from the New Latin American Cinema. and abroad. Yet for the cash-strapped Bolivian industry Sanjinés’s standards are high. yet in recent years the Ukamau Group has (not without considerable struggle) been able to access such trappings. drawing out structural. of national cinema studies such as Gumucio Dagrón 1983 and Mesa 1985. For any Bolivian filmmaker. state agencies. nor the international art-house language that. but in practice it has acted as a low-intensity ‘marketing strategy [. might partly undermine the collectivist aims of the group’s activities). An auteurist approach. and Écran. Sanjinés’s apparently contradictory status as auteur at the head of a radical collective has repeatedly been denied or downplayed by the director. for instance.8 While such an approach has its uses.

Stylistically. victimized indigenous community and the distant. as well as furthering his own promotional strategies. develop. like many of Sanjinés’s protagonists. Robin Hood-style. is centred around a group of youths in Bolivia’s capital La Paz. . It therefore justifies the director’s status as a key Latin American intellectual worthy of scholarly and critical attention. we might ask how narrative and formal devices in Sanjinés’s latest feature. immortalizes on celluloid a cultural misunderstanding between an urban mestizo film crew and a remote Quechua community and its eventual resolution — a personal experience that occurred during the Ukamau Group’s shooting of Yawar Mallku / Blood of the Condor (1969). it is in the city that change really needs to take place. or depart from themes that appear throughout the director’s work. to the militant filmdebate El enemigo principal / The Principal Enemy (1973) and the poetic reflection on Indian identity in La nación clandestina / The Secret Nation (1989). to steal the money and distribute it. for instance. lacks a social or political vision — much like the villagers’ action in Enemigo who capture their abusive landlord under their own steam only to suffer repression from the authorities. The main character Fernando. vice-ridden city. allowing Sanjinés to examine more closely the attitudes and values of various urban social classes rather than simply dismissing them out of hand.9 In this vein. most of Sanjinés’s features took an indigenous community as the locus of action. The suggestion now is that for progress to be made. his thinking about Bolivian politics or aesthetic approaches to representing indigenous protagonists on celluloid. see Sanjinés 1986: 43–47. after the protagonists of Yawar complained that the film’s use of ‘Western’ techniques such as flashbacks and close-ups was culturally alien to them (Sanjinés 1989). such as class and ethnic relations. Sanjinés’s work encourages such an approach. revisit. Los hijos del último jardín. His solution. For Sanjinés’s version of cultural difficulties while shooting Yawar Mallku.158 CONSTANZA BURUCÚA. narrated by Sanjinés in countless articles and interviews. From the rape avengement drama Ukamau / And So It Is (1966). in which external imposition from white/mestizo society brings about a problem which is eventually solved by armed retaliation and/or a (re-)discovery of the ‘true’ values of indigenous culture. Para recibir el canto de los pájaros (1995). the films are didactic texts designed to help Indian peasants devise effective retaliation. or like the villagers in Para recibir el canto who violently attack the urban film crew without 9 Hart 2003 gives parallel readings of Para recibir el canto and Yawar Mallku. rural. By filtering the society-wide issue of cultural misunderstanding through an oft-recounted personal experience. Prior to Los hijos. identifies an injustice: a corrupt politician accumulates enormous wealth while the majority — both remote indigenous communities and Fernando’s own urban lower-middle-class family — live in humiliating poverty. threatening. and by showing how that experience improved the group’s working relationship with indigenous Andean communities. Para recibir el canto constitutes a piece of the Ukamau Group’s internal folklore that underpins Sanjinés’s status as a committed and developing auteur. Para recibir el canto makes wide use of the ‘integral sequence shot’ which Sanjinés gradually developed to maintain the spatial and temporal unity of indigenous thought. to the masses. and the causes of and solutions to injustice. Sanjinés’s pictures often draw a Manichean division between the idealized. on the other hand. ET AL. Los hijos.

wherein the director was simply the ‘interpreter’ or ‘vehicle’ of the people (Sanjinés & Ukamau Group 1979: 61). but the tone of documentary authenticity. For the Ukamau Group. from the roots of [their] identity’ (Sanjinés & Ukamau Group 1989: 82). he has largely refrained from releasing his films on video or DVD. the New Latin American Cinema rearticulated individualistic authorship through the democratic filter of the production collective (2003: 110). but some acted scenes fuse into documentary images of the 2003 protests: scripted and choreographed episodes coalesce into the uncontrollable. after the indigenous community of Pankar Marka rejects Fernando’s ill-gotten offering due to its dishonest origins. Sanjinés tries his utmost to ensure that his films are viewed in the ‘proper’ context: screenings in indigenous communities. and Sanjinés has always fiercely fought off politically-motivated interference from both Bolivian and foreign producers. As such. Hess argued that Godard and company read a film as a textual realization of a director’s timeless and transcendental spiritual vision. Recently he has resorted to foreign co-production only when absolute autonomy has been assured (as in deals with Spanish and UK television for La nación clandestina). In Los hijos. As D’Lugo reminds us. and vows to enrich his leftwing idealism with indigenous values. I have translated it more literally. the young paceño learns the ‘true’ democracy of Aymara society. whether through the actors’ (semi-)improvizations or through live filming of historical events external to the fictional world of the film. screenwriters and the like. and the use of an economical digital format for Los hijos points to a return to 1970s-style self-sufficiency. and Latin Americans in general. and his conception of the versatile cineaste as a translator of the people’s voice. Sanjinés’s project is almost diametrically opposed to the ‘reactionary attempt to remove film from the realm of social and political concern’ of which John Hess accused the auteur theorists of Cahiers du Cinéma (1974: 19). In this context. as ‘author’. while proudly upholding both their class and ethnic identities. one of Sanjinés’s authorial stamps. factories. ‘true’ militancy can be assured only through independence in both production and exhibition. In the 1970s he sought to make ‘a film made by the people through the mediation of an author’. and has even managed mostly to evade Bolivia’s all-pervasive pirate market. so that in spite of the ‘noise’ of producers. who generally works with non-professional casts. the political sentiment that underlies all of Sanjinés’s films seems as appropriate as ever: Bolivians. In each case the problem is solved when the (individual or collective) protagonist bridges the seemingly unbridgeable gulf between indigenous and non-indigenous spheres to find the hope for a new society to come. the ‘noise’ of the ‘historical actors’ is precisely what gives his cinema its artistic validity. Yet for Sanjinés. In terms of distribution and exhibition. must ‘carry on the struggle from the depths of [their] nationality. Given the relatively unimportant role Sanjinés has usually assigned to screenplays. actors. ‘the director becomes the camera which records his perceptions’ (1974: 21).‘NEW’ LATIN AMERICAN CINEMA 159 considering the potential benefits they might bring. 10 Richard Schaaf’s translation of this text renders autor as ‘screenwriter’ (Sanjinés & Ukamau Group 1989: 40). . The film ostensibly uses the fictional idiom of a thriller. is expressed in a different way.10 In Los hijos such utopian aims have been jettisoned. Los hijos is set against the backdrop of the mass protests that swept through Bolivia in 2003 and ultimately led to the ejection of the neoliberal president Gonzalo Sánchez de Lozada.

ET AL. The films themselves are not thought to have an intrinsic meaning. see Sanjinés & Ukamau Group 1979: 9–10. getting ‘stuck trying to fix the meaning of a text and that text to a maker’. Gamboa 1999: 239–41. circulation. Bolivian cinemas or international film festivals. which have frequently led to alterations in their methodology. meaning derives from contact with their audiences. The Ukamau Group aims to reach relatively wide audiences while bypassing. Yet to approach them solely from an auteurist critical perspective is to overlook one of the collective’s central tenets: that each film’s meanings are multiple.160 CONSTANZA BURUCÚA. By labelling a film simply as a ‘Sanjinés film’ we shut out the multiple voices that speak out from the ‘texts’.11 Yet at the same time. film authorship can be taken 11 12 Conversation with César Pérez (cinematographer for Sanjinés’s three most recent films. might an urban working-class woman react to Los hijos del último jardín. for instance. fragmented. cultural and social junctures from which their spectators view and relate to the films. despite its different nuances and multifaceted manifestations across the region and throughout time. by looking only at the finished product we ignore any altercations between director and protagonists that might suggest that Sanjinés’s vision is not precisely that of the pueblo. But such audience comments as the Ukamau Group has published tend merely to shore up stated authorial intentions. and maintaining the collective and participatory nature of filmmaking and film viewing. . by effectively limiting access to his films (which are well known in Bolivia) to relatively rare occasions. Admittedly. Conclusion As pointed out earlier in this article. For audience comments. Sanjinés has taken great interest in spectators’ reactions to their films. schools. rather. We also pass over the innumerable and unique personal. in Coco Fusco’s words (1989: 11). they have not (nor necessarily should they) favoured ‘aberrant’ readings. in constant performance. and impact of the Ukamau Group’s films so effective. so far as possible. 71–73. Para recibir el canto and La nación clandestina). historical. 30 November 2004. London. Los hijos. the global regime of capital that structures the international cinema industry. preferably with a representative of the Ukamau Group present to anchor discussion. which foregrounds ethnic and class predicaments through its male protagonists but largely marginalizes female voices? How do present-day members of indigenous communities regard a film that portrays them as structurally separate from (albeit superior to) urban society? Authorship thus stands in a rather ambiguous relationship to the study of Sanjinés’s work. analyses of its films risk. Sanjinés’s status as a still-politicized auteur is crucial to the independence that makes the promotion. resulting in the ‘quite futile search for the truly radical film produced by the truly radical subject’. as politically committed filmmakers advancing an agenda. Thus for all that the Ukamau Group insists that a film becomes meaningful only through contact with its audience. On the one hand. and as such lie far beyond the text.12 How. such practices also go some way towards maintaining Sanjinés’s authorial mystique.

and Sanjinés suggests that different and coexisting models of authorship are being played out as a means to promote both their films and the strong political stands they still articulate. the common ground shared by their present-day productions can be articulated rather in terms of this subsisting category of authorship. This has proven to be an excellent marketing tool not just for the films of these veterans of Latin American cinema but also for the work of a whole new generation of rising directors who perpetuated their predecessors’ ability to convey and comment upon the variety of Latin American realities in aesthetically innovative films which. should be looked at in a context in which global marketing and social commitment are categories which are becoming increasingly interdependent. the shift away from revolutionary filmmaking towards a more ‘democratized’ form of authorship during the following decades seems to have been followed by a more personal type of authorship in the latest films of some of the already ‘classic’ Latin American directors. but as Constanza Burucúa’s contribution here proposes. with a more or less organic ideological project and within which each director’s personal expression was contained. To conclude then. have become box-office hits both in their countries of origin and abroad. and the need for change are certainly as relevant to today’s world as they were some forty years ago.‘NEW’ LATIN AMERICAN CINEMA 161 as a category against which the history of Latin American cinema might be read and understood. Solanas has operated in recent decades as an internationally-acclaimed director of socially-aware art-house fiction films. García Espinosa and Sanjinés to produce committed films. suggests Stephen Hart. in which these directors’ films are avidly consumed by a new generation of spectators that conflate their work into the counter-hegemonic discourses of the anti-globalization movements. yet ultimately argues that Sanjinés’s own notion of a ‘cinema with the people’ urges us to question the authorial aura that has emerged around his oeuvre. Read against this background. unlike most of the foundational texts of the New Latin American Cinema. films like the ones we have discussed in this article do not necessarily articulate such . David Wood’s piece examines the thematic and aesthetic continuities between Sanjinés’s latest film and his earlier productions. the renewed urge of directors like Solanas. it seems pertinent to suggest that whereas the value of ideas of equality. notions concerning authorship have blended with others related to questions of socially committed cinema in the work of directors who shaped what we know today as the New Latin American Cinema. While throughout the agitated 1960s and 1970s ideas of authorship and political cinema were used strategically to promote both these directors’ films and their ideological agendas. the ‘imperfect cinema’ that the Cuban director promoted in the 1960s is now continued and stylistically revamped to reflect the new and increasingly fragile social and political reality of post-Cold-War Cuba. García Espinosa. the study of recent films by Solanas. social justice. In the case of García Espinosa. his latest film’s return to a documentary format reminiscent of La hora de los hornos signals an increasingly monological idiom that legitimates his authorial presence as an international spokesman on Argentine affairs. rather than mutually exclusive. and their ideas about cinema as a tool for social change. Reconverted into a political project during the 1960s. As each section of this article reveals. But whereas in years gone by their work formed part of a continental movement.

Stephen Hart & Richard Young (London: Arnold). that they broadly differ from newer generations of Latin American cineastes in the greater emphasis they lay on social commentary than on pragmatic commercialism. ‘National Cinema After Globalization: Fernando E. & Jean Narboni. and the New Identity of Latin American Cinema: From the Mexican “ranchera” to Argentinian “Exile”’. Stephen. The Cinema Book (London: British Film Institute). & Mieke Bernink. ET AL. The New Latin American Cinema: A Continental Project (Austin: University of Texas Press). 22–30]. 36: 7–14. Newman. Coco. Martin. ——. 2 vols (Berkeley: California UP). López.. ed. I. 2005. 1976). I: World View as Aesthetic’. 2003. and is an issue very much open to debate. ‘An “Other” History: The New Latin American Cinema’.3–4 (May-August): 2–21. Ana M. Theories of Authorship: A Reader (London & Boston: Routledge. Works Cited Astruc. pp. just to mention some paradigmatic examples. 1993. Rethinking Third Cinema (New York & London: Routledge). Julio. in Martin 1997. 2003. ‘Cinéma/idéologie. 1983. Box. Gumucio Dagrón.. 1968 [1948]. Michael T. 2000. ed. 2 vols (Berkeley: University of California Press.. 135–56. however.): 11–15 [reprinted in Movies and Methods. ed. Magical Reels: A History of Cinema in Latin America (London: Verso). 2004.. 1997. ‘Mama Coca and the Revolution: Jorge Sanjinés’s Double Take’. D’Lugo. Jump Cut. ideas through the formally and aesthetically groundbreaking visual strategies that characterized La hora de los hornos. Screen. political. 1997. pp. John. 103–25. Carlos. ed. Ariel. El cine de Jorge Sanjinés (Santa Cruz: Fundación para la Educación y Desarrollo de las Artes y Media). Contemporary scepticism towards the notion of a homogeneous continental movement prevents us from drawing generalizations about any latter-day style shared by these revolutionary auteurs. 1989. John King. and cultural dynamics of different audiences. Chanan. Historia del cine boliviano (Mexico City: Filmoteca UNAM). & Manuel Alvarado (London: British Film Institute). & Wimal Dissanayake.162 CONSTANZA BURUCÚA. Mesa. . ‘Marginal Cinemas and Mainstream Critical Theory’. Fusco. ‘The Birth of a New Avant-Garde: La Caméra-Stylo’. pp. Ana M. What Is Cinema?. ‘Cuban Cinema: A Long Journey Towards the Light’. El coronel no tiene quien le escriba (London: Grant and Cutler). ed. Zuzana M. Bazin. Gamboa. I.. John. Burton. Alfonso. André. 1990. Peter Graham (London: Secker & Warburg). Hart. 216 (Oct. Twenty-Five Years of the New Latin American Cinema (London: British Film Institute). 69–83. Guneratne. 1999. 290–99. ed. 1 (May–June): 19–22. 1967. A Companion to Latin American Cinema (London: Taurus) Hess. It can be said. Julianne. critique’. La aventura del cine boliviano 1952–1985 (La Paz: Gisbert).. Cahiers du Cinéma. The question of which combination of the two is more effective surely depends on the varying social. 1981. 1993. ‘Authorship. 1983. Alexandre. ed. Ben. Pam. lecture delivered on 16 February 2005 at University College London. 2 vols (Detroit: Wayne State UP).. Marvin. Caughie. Pick. in Contemporary Latin American Cultural Studies. ‘La Politique des Auteurs. in The New Wave. ed. 1999. Cook. Kathleen. Comolli. in Mediating Two Worlds: Cinematic Encounters in the Americas. ed. 1985. in Guneratne & Dissanayake 2003. Bill Nichols. 1974. New Latin American Cinema. García Espinosa. ed. ‘About Locating Ourselves and our Representations’. Michael. López. pp. 2003. pp. Framework. Kegan Paul & British Film Institute). Jean Louis. 26.. King. Globalization.. Solanas’ Sur and the Exiled Nation’. Anthony. Yawar Mallku or Memorias del subdesarrollo. although both terms undoubtedly inform the work of all the filmmakers in question. John. 1985. 1969.

y dada la persistencia de un cine latinoamericano socialmente comprometido. & Octavio Getino. nos preguntamos aquí hasta qué punto las producciones recientes de estos directores — y el proyecto mismo del Nuevo Cine Latinoamericano — constituyen realmente un corte neto con sus pasados cinematográficos o simplemente un reciclaje de sus antiguas estrategias. ——. ——. & the Ukamau Group. Teoría y práctica de un cine junto al pueblo (Mexico City: Siglo Veintiuno). ——. sino también en las de una nueva generación de directores latinoamericanos. 2003. 31 (January): 15–29. pp. 1983. UK. Truffaut. Richard Schaaf (Willimantic: Curbstone Press). in The Garden of Forking Paths: Argentine Cinema. tr. Robert. 1989. uclssth@ucl. Julianne Burton (Austin: University of Texas Press). 93–113. in Chanan 1983. ——. Peter. University College London. Department of Spanish and Latin-American Studies. Wollen. ‘Towards a Third Cinema: Notes and Experiences for the Development of a Cinema of Liberation in the Third World’. pp.‘NEW’ LATIN AMERICAN CINEMA 163 Sanjinés. & David A través del análisis del trabajo reciente de tres pilares del Nuevo Cine Latinoamericano de los Sesenta y Setenta — el argentino Fernando Solanas. Solanas. ‘El plano secuencia integral’. Theory and Practice of a Cinema with the People. Constanza Burucúa. ‘Contemporary Argentine Cinema’. 1986. 331–48. el artículo evalúa la posibilidad y la pertinencia de leer tal cine desde una perspectiva crítica centrada en la noción de autor. Gower Street. ‘Beyond Third Cinema: The Aesthetics of Hybridity’. ed. pp. François. dada la preeminencia y la importancia de la figura del autor a lo largo de la historia del cine latinoamericano. 1998 [1969]. Notes on Contributors Address correspondence to: Professor Stephen Hart. London wc1e 6bt. Torrents. 1954. Cine cubano. Stam. 1988. in Guneratne & Dissanayake 2003. Cahiers du Cinéma. 17–27. que se manifiesta no sólo en las películas de directores ‘clásicos’ como los aquí trabajados. Jorge. in Cinema and Social Change in Latin America: Conversations with Filmmakers. 1989. tr. Leonard Mayhew (London: Allen Lane). 35–48. The Films in My Life. ‘Une Certaine Tendance du cinéma français’. J. el cubano Julio García Espinosa y el boliviano Jorge Sanjinés — este artículo se centra en la noción de autor cinematográfico para cuestionar el uso que estos directores han hecho de ésta como un medio para otorgarles profundidad histórica y continuidad narrativa a sus carreras. indisolublemente vinculadas con sus respectivas posturas políticas e ideológicas. Signs and Meanings in the Cinema (London: British Film Institute). Wood. 1980. . pp. Fernando. Nissa. 1979. Asimismo. John King & Nissa Torrents (London: British Film Institute). ‘Revolutionary Cinema: The Bolivian Experience’. Al mismo tiempo. 125: 65–71.

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