Culture

When Gabriel García Márquez was investigated over his links to communism | USA

The first book that Gabriel García Márquez gifted to Fidel Castro was Dracula. It was the mid-1970s and the Cuban leader, engaged in the war in Angola, had admitted to his friend that he barely had time to read. Like a kind of literary pusher, the author continued to provide Castro with bestsellers, easy reads to provide a little rest from the revolution. In exchange, Castro became a tough editor of García Márquez’s early manuscripts. In Chronicle of a Death Foretold, inspired by a real event, he had the author change even the caliber of the weapons in the novel.

The friendship had begun earlier, the fruit of a dual fascination – of the journalist García Márquez for the trappings of power and Castro’s for the great intellectuals – but it was always steeped in literature, to the extent that García Márquez signed over the copyright to Chronicle of a Death Foretold to the Cuban government, according to a document produced by the Mexican intelligence service and dated March 17, 1982. The informant quoted in the files concluded that “Gabriel García Márquez, as well as being pro-Cuban and pro-Soviet, is an agent of propaganda in the service of the Intelligence Directorate of that country.”

The Nobel Prize-winning writer’s familiarity with Cuba and the rest of Latin America’s leftist governments and guerrillas seems to have been what most preoccupied the Federal Security Directorate (DFS), Mexico’s political spying service during the monolithic regime of the Institutional Revolutionary Party (PRI), which held power in the country for over seven decades from 1929 to 2000. The dossier on García Márquez runs from the late 1960s, shortly after he took up residence in Mexico, to 1985, when the agency was dissolved.

EL PAÍS has had access to over 100 declassified files via a formal transparency request lodged with the Mexican General Archive of the Nation. The dossier contains details of how García Márquez was shadowed at public events and private meetings, of photographs taken at his door when he received guests and an exhaustive record of his trips to Cuba from 1975 onward, when the author was drawn more deeply into the bosom of Castroism after a period of estrangement.

A document that shows the copyright for 'Chronicle of a Death Foretold' being ceded to the Cuban government. — A document that shows the copyright for ‘Chronicle of a Death Foretold’ being ceded to the Cuban government.

García Márquez and Cuba

With no passport and no luggage, García Márquez arrived in Havana for the first time just days after the triumph of the revolution, in January 1959. Invited by Castro as a correspondent for Prensa Latina, the official Cuban state news agency recently co-founded by García Márquez himself, the then-journalist spent six months on the island. After the initial idyll, Communist Party control of the agency and Castro’s definitive jump into the arms of Moscow led to a cooling of relations. That parenthesis coincided with the author’s residence in Barcelona, alongside other leading figures of the Latin American literary boom who were disenchanted with the Cuban dream, such as Mario Vargas Llosa.

During his European years, García Márquez was shaken by another world event: the 1973 military coup against Salvador Allende in Chile. “It was a turning point and served to confirm a period of political radicalization that once again brought him back to Cuba and to militant journalism. He even went so far as to say he would write no more literature until [dictator Augusto] Pinochet had fallen,” says Jaime Abello, a personal friend of the author and director of the Gabo Foundation. At that time, García Márquez had already written One Hundred Years of Solitude and his popularity was rising. However, in the midst of his militant turn, in 1975 he published a glowing report on Castro’s Cuba in the Colombian magazine Alternativas, which he himself founded as a tool for political agitation.

This was the period when García Márquez featured most heavily in the archives of the Mexican Federal Security Directorate. In addition to monitoring his visits to Havana, the files record García Márquez’s support for the Sandinistas in Nicaragua and his mediation, under the condition of anonymity, to get Mexican television to broadcast an interview with four military leaders of El Salvador’s FMLN guerrilla movement. There are also records of his meetings with Régis Debray, a French revolutionary and comrade-in-arms of Che Guevara who went on to become an advisor to former French president François Mitterrand.

In the view of Mexican researcher Jacinto Rodríguez, who is writing a book on the DFS’ spying activities against intellectuals during that time, García Márquez’s file is evidence that he was under “a soft tailing, we could say a normal one. He was always regarded as a foreigner who could not involve himself in national issues and who furthermore always exercised great caution.” Rodríguez gives the examples of the Mexican poet Octavio Paz, whose income and debts were monitored, and the Argentinean-French author Julio Cortázar, whose private correspondence was intercepted, as cases that were treated more thoroughly by the DFS. Money and privacy were two of the spy service’s favored weapons for pressure, coercion and punishment.

Declassified documents from the Mexican DFS.

The silent repression of the PRI

García Márquez’s most politically radical years coincided with the most brutal era of repression in Mexico. From the 1970s, a criminal alliance between the army and the police gave rise to the murderous and systematic persecution of guerrillas and any other dissidents. It was an offensive embedded as state policy for iron-fisted PRI governments up to at least the end of the 1980s.

This era is still surrounded by impunity and oblivion, highlighting the sophisticated contradictions of the PRI regime: while it opened its arms to political refugees fleeing the dictatorships in Chile and Argentina, at home, it quietly liquidated any social opposition. García Márquez’s declassified files make no mention of any criticism of these dark activities in Mexico, but experts have not ruled out that the material made available could be incomplete and that there may be more that remains, for the moment, wrapped in secrecy. “To what extent was he directly involved in matters that directly interested or affected Mexico? It is still a gray area in his biography,” says Abello.

García Márquez arrived in Mexico in 1961 after leaving the Prensa Latina correspondent’s office in New York. Disenchanted with political journalism, his objective was to try his luck in the world of cinema, another of his passions. The first DFS reports were not filed until 1968, the year of social protests and the Tlatelolco massacre in which over 200 unarmed students were killed by the army (although the figures were never precise).

In December of that tumultuous year, the DFS dossier recorded the creation of the Habeas Foundation, a personal project for García Márquez. It was an organization designed to defend human rights, above all in the case of political prisoners. The DFS informant summed up the foundation’s objectives: “To protect and support, financially and legally, people with a Marxist-Leninist ideology who, because of their participation in guerrilla or terrorist organizations, are shielded under the concept of political persecution.”

The Habeas Foundation took on dictatorships of various kinds, from Argentina to Chile and Panama, and even democracies such as his native Colombia, itself mired in a guerrilla war. The future Nobel winner threw himself into the foundation during its early years. “It’s what I do the most, I think even more than I write,” he said. The foundation faced criticism over the supposed soft handling of denunciations against the Cuban regime or the 1968 repression in Mexico. Octavio Paz’s entourage, which had temporarily severed ties with the PRI, accused García Márquez derisively of having swapped “magical realism for socialist realism.”

Jacinto Rodríguez also notes the extreme prudence exercised by García Márquez with regard to Mexican politics. “They were not so much concerned about him, who was seen as being on the right side, as about the doors that could be opened by keeping a close eye on someone who was so well-connected, with so many contacts.” The majority of people who visited García Márquez at his Mexico home are blacked out in the files, but among them are the secretary general of the Chilean Communist Party and the political counselor at the Cuban Embassy.

A selection of the documents to which EL PAÍS has had access.

The shadow of the CIA

Another pattern that shows up in the files with blacked-out portions corresponding to García Márquez’s contacts is the repeated mention of the United States: “The American authorities are interested in this person…” The Mexican DFS was founded the same year as the Central Intelligence Agency (CIA), 1947, and the long working relationship between both has been noted often, laying bare another paradox of the PRI regime, which vented the anti-US rhetoric of the era while at the same time bowing to Washington’s political police.

Rodríguez acknowledges that “the work of the DFS tends to be interpreted as a bridge with other agencies, but the Mexican service had its own interests very much in mind.” In the case of organizations like Habeas, for example, the DFS carried out “preventive control of the extent of its activities to anticipate possible interference in Mexico.” The Mexican Secretariat for Home Affairs, Rodríguez adds, had a registry of over 200 international human rights organizations.

The DFS dossier also made note of García Márquez’s Nobel Prize, awarded on October 21, 1981. A few days later, the writer received the Order of the Aztec Eagle from the Mexican government. During his acceptance speech, García Márquez spoke of his “pride and gratitude” and underlined, speaking directly to “Mr President,” that “this distinction from your government also honors all those exiles who have taken refuge in Mexico.”

The “Mr President” in question was José López Portillo, who while receiving exiles escaping from Latin American dictatorships was also spying on García Márquez and overseeing the Dirty War in his own country.

Source link

Culture

Mexico City, the scene of revenge, blood and torture in the new installment of ‘Saw’ | Culture

Screenwriter Leigh Whannell was unhappy with the work he was doing and began to suffer from migraines. He was convinced he might have a brain tumor and went to a neurologist for an MRI. Sitting in the office, he thought, what if you were to receive the news that you had a brain tumor and were going to die soon? How would you react to that? Those thoughts led him to create the character of John Kramer, a cancer-stricken sociopath whose resentment and inordinate attachment to life turn him into a merciless judge, jury and executioner, allowing his victims to decide their lives and the lives of others through twisted games.

Along with his colleague filmmaker James Wan, Whannel thought outside the box. Both are avid consumers of horror films, and they came up with the idea of starting a movie with two men chained in a bathroom, with a corpse in between them, not knowing what the hell had happened; Kramer is behind them, pulling the strings that decide their fate. Thus, Saw was born in 2004. The movie was well received at Sundance and the Toronto Film Festival. Lionsgate invested a budget of barely $1 million in the project and ended up making over $100 million at the box office.

Eight sequels and $1 billion in revenues at the box office later, Saw is back with a new installment. This is the franchise’s tenth movie, its first in over seven years. This time, the action takes place in Mexico City, where Kramer—better known as serial killer Jigsaw—unleashes his revenge and bloody torture games once again.

Saw X takes place between the events of Saw (2004) and Saw II (2005). Desperate and sick, John Kramer (Tobin Bell) travels to Mexico to undergo an experimental and very risky treatment in the hopes of curing his deadly cancer. However, the entire operation turns out to be a fraud to deceive the most vulnerable. Filled with rage and a lurid new purpose, his new victims will face the most ingenious, deadly and torturous traps in a visceral and ruthless game.

Actresses Renata Vaca, Paulette Hernández and actors Octavio Hinojosa and Joshua Okamoto are part of the Mexican cast who will try to survive the games that Jigsaw has in store for them in Mexico City. Saw X director Kevin Greutert, who was the editor of six Saw films and also directed Saw VI and Saw VII 3D, says that the idea in the original script was initially for the movie to be filmed in Prague and Bulgaria, but ultimately Mexico was a “great choice,” and he could not imagine another version of the film without Mexican actors.

“There’s such mythology, the city is so amazing, and we can’t say enough about it. There’s something creepy about it, a certain history; it absolutely worked for us. I’m sure everyone knows that, but it’s the first time we’ve ever said where we are in a movie [in the Saw franchise]. And we really stand behind that,” Greutert says.

Renata Vaca, 24, who is also a musician, says she was 9 years old when she first watched Saw in the U.S. She saw it with her uncle, a fan of horror movies. Billy, the puppet, Jigsaw’s avatar in the films, caught her attention. “My uncle told me, ‘Dude, don’t wuss out on me.’ So, we saw it, and I was really scared. But look, it’s intense, and now here we are.” The actress, who will soon appear with Yalitza Aparicio and Diego Calva in Midnight Family, emphasizes that the film is like a trip back to the Mexico of 20 years ago, which can be seen in certain details like the clothing and yesteryear’s green and white cabs. “I had to do a lot of research for the role. It’s cool because you’ll feel like you’re in 2000s-era Mexico,” she says.

Okamoto, who was in the sequel to Sexo, pudor y lágrimas (Sex, Shame & Tears) and has Netflix and HBO Max projects in the works, admits that he hadn’t had a chance to see Saw before he was cast in the film. However, he does remember the Saw promotional poster and how it was illustrated: it had the piece of a calf with a foot and the fragment of a hand. “I felt very frightened when I saw the poster, and it left a very unpleasant feeling in my chest and stomach,” he recalls.

The first Saw film began with touches of gore and, according to several specialists, it later evolved into torture porn, because it uses violence to titillate the audience as if they were experiencing a sexual act.

In Saw X, Mexico becomes another character and influences different aspects of the narrative. “One of the great successes of this latest installment is that they manage to portray Mexico as another character. You can feel the city in the background, the textures, the colors. We are not only a country…there is a very folkloric culture, from the rituals of the Aztecs onward [and] some elements naturally sneak into the plot. In the traps, there are also, let’s say mythological, references that are part of urban legends, iconography, evidence of pre-Hispanic influences,” Okamoto explains.

With the exception of Octavio Hinojosa, none of the actors had ever been in a horror film before. All three agree that the biggest challenge in this film was keeping their emotions at full throttle during the 12-hour call. “That’s screaming, running, sweating, hyperventilating. The most difficult thing was to sustain those states,” says Okamoto. Vaca agrees with him: “You have to be all in, with your entire body, [and be] very open to what is happening in the moment, because sometimes what happens goes beyond what you had thought.”

“It was like doing theater… being there all the time, being seen all the time. It was very tiring, very exhausting. Emotions become real when they go through one’s body. There’s a part of you that says, ‘I’m in a [fictional story],’ but you do get upset. You do get scared. You do cry and you do experience it. That is very, very exhausting, but we actors are a little masochistic; we enjoy being on the edge of emotions, and at the end of a call, when you do things right you say: ‘Very good, I did it. That’s great,’” Hinojosa concludes.

Sign up for our weekly newsletter to get more English-language news coverage from EL PAÍS USA Edition

Source link

Culture

“The Creator”: A Glimpse Into A Future Defined By Artificial Intelligence (AI) Warfare

By Cindy Porter

In “The Creator” visionary director Gareth Edwards thrusts us into the heart of a dystopian future, where the battle lines are drawn between artificial intelligence and the free Western world.

Set against the backdrop of a post-rebellion Los Angeles, the film grapples with pressing questions about the role of AI in our society.

A Glimpse into a Future Defined by Artificial Intelligence (AI) Warfare

While the narrative treads familiar ground, it is timely, given the rising prominence of artificial intelligence in our daily lives.

A Fusion of Genres

Edwards embarks on an ambitious endeavor, blending elements of science fiction classics with contemporary themes.

The result is a cinematic stew reminiscent of James Cameron’s “Aliens” tinged with shades of “Blade Runner” a dash of “Children of Men,” and a sprinkle of “Akira” This concoction, while intriguing, occasionally veers toward familiarity rather than forging its own distinct identity.

Edwards’ Cinematic Journey

The British filmmaker, known for his foray into doomsday scenarios with the BBC docudrama “End Day” in 2005, has traversed a path from indie gem “Monsters” (2010) to the expansive Star Wars universe with “Rogue One” (2016).

“The Creator” marks another bold step in his repertoire. The film introduces compelling concepts like the posthumous donation of personality traits, punctuated by impactful visuals, and raises pertinent ethical dilemmas. It stands as a commendable endeavor, even if it occasionally falters in execution.

Navigating Complexity

In his pursuit of depth, Edwards at times stumbles into the realm of convolution, leaving the audience grappling with intricacies rather than immersing in the narrative.

While adept at crafting visual spectacles and orchestrating soundscapes, the film occasionally falters in the art of storytelling.

In an era where classic storytelling is seemingly on the wane, some may argue that this approach is emblematic of the times.

AI: Savior or Peril?

“The Creator” leaves us with a question that resonates long after the credits roll: Will artificial intelligence be humanity’s salvation or its undoing? The film’s take on machine ethics leans toward simplicity, attributing AI emotions to programmed responses.

This portrayal encapsulates the film’s stance on the subject – a theme as enigmatic as the AI it grapples with.

“The Creator”

Director: Gareth Edwards.
Starring: John David Washington, Gemma Chan, Madeleine Yuna Boyles, Ken Watanabe.
Genre: Science fiction.
Release Year: 2023.
Duration: 133 minutes.
Premiere Date: September 29.

WATCH: TRAILER

Top 5 Movies by Gareth Edwards:

1. “Monsters” (2010)

– A breakout hit, “Monsters” showcases Edwards’ talent for blending intimate human drama with towering sci-fi spectacles. Set in a world recovering from an alien invasion, it’s a poignant tale of love amidst chaos.

2. “Rogue One” (2016)

– Edwards helms this epic Star Wars installment, seamlessly integrating new characters with the beloved original trilogy. It’s a testament to his ability to navigate complex narratives on a grand scale.

3. “End Day” (2005)

– This BBC docudrama marked Edwards’ entry into the world of speculative storytelling. Presenting five doomsday scenarios, it set the stage for his later exploration of dystopian futures.

4. “The Creator” (2023)

– Edwards’ latest venture, “The Creator,” immerses audiences in a future fraught with AI warfare. While not without its challenges, it boldly tackles pertinent questions about the role of artificial intelligence in our lives.

5. Potential Future Project

– As Edwards continues to push the boundaries of speculative cinema, audiences eagerly anticipate his next cinematic endeavor, poised to be another thought-provoking addition to his illustrious filmography.

“The Creator” stands as a testament to Gareth Edwards’ unyielding vision and his penchant for exploring the frontiers of speculative cinema.

While it doesn’t shy away from the complexities of AI, it occasionally falters in navigating its intricate narrative.

As we peer into this cinematic crystal ball, we’re left with a stark question: Will artificial intelligence be our beacon of hope, or will it cast a shadow over humanity’s future? Only time will unveil the answer.

We Can’t Thank You Enough For Your Support!

— By Cindy Porter

— For more information & news submissions: info@VoiceOfEU.com

— Anonymous news submissions: press@VoiceOfEU.com

Culture

Why Most Men Don’t Carry A Purse

Men do not carry purses; that much is clear. In the last century or two they have carried wallets, briefcases, satchels or backpacks, always associated with their activity or profession, but never a purse, a bag with straps or handles full of their personal effects. Perhaps that is why, nowadays, a man hanging a purse from his shoulder unleashes some kind of physical phenomenon, a whirlwind of comments, raised eyebrows and criticism that, depending on the protagonist’s profile, can become more or less violent.

The case of some celebrities is different (just take a look at examples like actor Jacob Elordi and his Bottega Veneta Cassette Bag, or singer Harry Styles with his Gucci Jackie); after all, they live in another plane of existence and can do whatever they want. But why can they carry a purse and regular people can’t? Why is it so difficult to find an ordinary citizen who has incorporated a handbag into their daily life? Don’t they need to carry Kleenex, glasses, a charger, eye drops or any personal items?

British singer Harry Styles with a Gucci bag.

The fact is that men’s bags went out of fashion more than 300 years ago, right around the time when pants began to become tight and one of the most practical inventions in the history of clothing became a regular feature: pockets. Up until then, men did carry bags, as ornate and spectacular as their social position demanded. “From classical antiquity to the Renaissance, small bags were a common accessory for men and women to carry coins,” explains Rosa Moreno Laorga, trend analyst, fashion consultant, teacher of art and fashion and sociology of fashion at the European Institute of Design in Madrid, Spain and author of Hacer de lo cotidiano un ritual contemporáneo: Ensayo sobre el origen de las tendencias (Turning the Everyday into a Contemporary Ritual, An Essay on the Origin of Trends). In fact, for much of history men were the ones who carried the purse, as they were the ones who carried the money. Women did not need one because they did not venture too far from home.

An independent accessory

At the end of the 19th century, the Rational Dress Society was founded in London. Along with the burgeoning women’s suffrage movement, it argued that women’s independence could not be achieved in a tight-fitting, pocketless dress. True liberation required loose clothing that allowed freedom of movement and pockets to keep necessities close at hand — including a revolver, if necessary. The movement did not address the matter of purses, but fashion knew how to read the times and when at the end of the century women were allowed to travel alone, Louis Vuitton began to sell large bags for women, positioning their products as a sign of female independence. They had compartments and zippers and radiated luxury.

The 20th century gave an important boost to the purse as a feminine accessory. In February 1955, Gabrielle Chanel created the 2.55 (a name inspired by the date of its creation). The bag, merely 7.5 inches long, was made of black padded leather with three pockets inside, two at both ends and a smaller one in the middle to store lipstick. That was the first modern handbag, a pioneer that included a revolutionary detail: two chains made of flat metal links that freed up the hands. That model, which continues to be reinvented today in different finishes, colors and materials, is still the French firm’s best-seller.

In the 1980s, when women entered the workplace en masse, they adopted men’s clothing (blazers, suits, pants). That was not only a practical decision, but also a reflection of the time (there were hardly any models of female leadership to draw inspiration from, or any corporate uniform comparable to the men’s suit). Work-related films of that era clearly reflect this aesthetic: while Melanie Griffith carried a huge brown leather bag all the way to the office in Working Girl (she needed something to carry the high heels she would wear at the office instead of the Reebok sneakers she arrived in), none of Tom Cruise’s bosses in The Firm had to carry anything in their hands. They simply did not need it: they had assistants — all women — to carry things for them.

The image of a man in a suit with nothing in his hands became the picture of success. Will we have to wait for the balance of power to shift for good before they are the ones to adopt feminine clothing as a symbol of power? Will those feminine items remain imbued with a certain disempowerment until then? Ana Velasco Molpeceres, journalist, professor at the Complutense University of Madrid and historian specialized in communication and fashion, who recently published Ropa vieja: Historia de las prendas que vestimos (Old Clothes: The History of the Clothes We Wear) finds in history the answers to why men still do not use purses: “Since the 19th century, bags have been associated with women. Therefore, they are categorized as a feminine accessory. For women, carrying a bag simply means being dressed like a woman and being able to carry their things comfortably. For men, carrying a bag means adopting a garment that is ‘problematic,’ because it is gendered.”

A symbol of male liberation?

Today, the big luxury brands are determined to get men to carry bags. Could this accessory become a symbol of male liberation, overcoming some stereotypes about how a man is supposed to act, dress and present himself to the world? Many young men, men involved in fashion and men who do not dress according to gender conventions do use it, but it is a minority.

“Without a doubt, breaking the norm regarding what is traditionally feminine or masculine always entails a new vision and a clear evolution in terms of the perception of conventional roles. These changes help to get rid of many limiting, harmful stereotypes, and I think using fashion as a tool that helps us be free is always commendable. A purse can be a symbol that helps us break the molds instead of fitting into them; don’t forget that Chanel and Yves Saint Laurent were the first to break sexual dimorphism by migrating garments from the male to the female wardrobe, thus creating new ways of being in the world for the women who took part in this transformation,” reflects Moreno Laorga.

Fashion is considered a language within an evolving culture; perhaps that is why it has been championing genderless styles and garments for several years now. We see artists, music stars and models carrying handbags at events and red carpets. Still, the reactions we see on social media reveal that, in some particularly conservative sectors, a man walking around with a bag is still not widely accepted.

“Gender roles continue to have a key and important weight in the media, advertising, movies and more. At first, an image whose pieces are not as expected is always disruptive, in this case a handbag (which is traditionally associated with the female universe) in the hands of a straight, cis man, but time will normalize the use of this accessory, in case it becomes popular and enters the norm,” says Moreno Laorga.

“Soccer players and other men wear sling bags, because they are part of the culture of luxury and opulence. In their case, carrying a bag is masculine because, in their iconography, it is something expensive and branded. It is associated with power. Just like jewelry or exaggerated hairstyles and aesthetics [tattoos],” explains Velasco Molpeceres.

“Currently, the trend towards genderless fashion leads us to think that whether it is a woman or a man, the symbolic weight of this accessory will be associated with its appearance, the value of the materials, the design style… aspects related to the object itself, more than the gender of the person who wears it. A good example of this is Telfar, the New York fashion brand that has managed to elevate its unisex bags to the category of icons by using this discourse,” says this expert.

Handbags belong to a category of accessories that respond to a certain functionality; a functionality that, in certain cases (as in the example of JW Anderson’s viral clutch bags that look like pigeons, cushions and more), evolves to the point of becoming decoration, points out Moreno Laorga. “Perhaps in the future, the handbag will go from being a container of belongings to a container of identities; a non-verbal language tool that serves to express aspects about the person who carries it and how they decide to carry it,” she says. Maybe, in the future, a bag will not aggravate people so much.