Welcome back to our queer film retrospective, “A Gay Old Time.” In this week’s column, in recognition of Hispanic Heritage Month, we’re revisiting the 1993 Spanish-language buddy comedy Strawberry & Chocolate.
September is Hispanic Heritage Month in the United States, which celebrates the histories, cultures, and contributions of people in America that come from Latin America, the Caribbean, and other Hispanic regions. To join in the celebrations, this week we’ll be revisiting a movie from a Latin American country whose cinematic oeuvre is often overlooked, but which contains rich and fascinating histories.
We all are a collection of various small identities and descriptors that add up to make a whole being: our gender, our race, our nationality, our sexual orientation, our political alliances, our religion. Apart from informing our core values and beliefs, these factors also give us a sense of belonging. By being around others that share the same ideas, we create a community.
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Of course, some tend to take on more weight and importance than others. But what happens when one of these identities (some of which we were born into and some we adapt as we grow up) are essentially opposed to one another? Are we able to make them coexist? And is our own identity able to reconcile this fracture?
The Set-Up
The 1993 Cuban film Strawberry & Chocolate asks these very large and possibly overbearing existential questions in the package of a semi-dramatic buddy comedy. It takes two characters who at first sight couldn’t be more opposed to each other—an openly gay artist obsessed with individual liberation and an homophobic scholar mindlessly invested in the Communist cause—and sets them on a journey of understanding not just each other, but also their own place and role in a political and social environment that is keeping both of them trapped.
In Strawberry & Chocolate, flamboyant and unapologetically queer man Diego (Jorge Perugorria) tries to befriend college student David (Vladimir Cruz). Repelled by his sexuality, David wants nothing to do with him, but is convinced by his roomate Miguel (Francisco Gattorno) to get close to Diego and spy on him, as he sees him as a threat to the Communist cause of 1970s Cuba. Reluctant, David starts spending time together with Diego, and the two strike an unexpected friendship that slowly becomes genuine and deep.
Fellow Travelers
As the two spend their evenings talking and discussing issues about sexuality, culture, art, communism and the nature and revolution, they (quite predictably) realize that they have much more in common than they initially thought. In on another they find an unexpected source of support and comfort as each of their lives unravel separately; David unsuccessfully trying to reconnect with his former fianceé, and Diego facing major roadblocks with the art exhibit he is trying to curate with his partner.
Although the movie follows the traditional beats of an unexpected and unlikely friendship narrative, and often verges on the overly emotional and simplistic moral that “true friendship can overcome any differences,” what stands out most is how deeply the story and themes are grounded within the sociopolitical climate of Communist Cuba, and how that directly affects the ways in which these characters see life and each other.
It could be easy to assume that the Communist regime would be portrayed as an end-to-all evil; the structure that is the source of every hardship that these characters are living through—particularly if viewed through an American, Hollywood-influenced lens. But the film makes space for much more nuanced conversations. Both Diego and David proudly identify themselves as communists, though David is a bit more unfaltering and unquestioning on his loyalty to the party, while Diego knows it’s not as easy as that.
A Taste Of The Forbidden
Diego questions the way the regime limits individual freedoms and expressions, particularly around culture, art, and sexual liberty. He secretly indulges in things that are forbidden, like certain music and literature. He understands that his very being is in direct opposition with the core ideals of the country that birthed and raised him, and that central tension is perhaps the most fascinating observation the movie makes.
Diego doesn’t disown his Cuban identity, and even embraces some of its ideals, but he struggles throughout on how to integrate it with his queerness. It’s an internal struggle that will feel too familiar to queer people whose upbringing collides with their sexuality. The movie knows that, more often than not, a side has to win, and Diego ends up leaving Cuba by the end of the film, realizing he may not be able to make these two sides of himself peacefully coexist—at least for the time being.
A Sweet Pairing
Strawberry & Chocolate was directed by Tomas Gutierrez Alea and Juan Carlos Tabio, and was based on a short story by Senel Paz, who also co-wrote the screenplay. It earned several awards around the world throughout its festival run, most notably the special jury prize at the Sundance and Berlin film festivals. The movie made history in 1993 by becoming the first ever Cuban film to be nominated for an Academy Award for Best Foreign Language Film, losing to Russia’s Burnt By The Sun. It is shockingly still the only time the country has ever gotten an Oscar nomination.
Like its title suggests, Strawberry & Chocolate is a film about two things that on the surface shouldn’t mix, but make up a compelling flavor combination. Although its story starts and ends in the places you probably expect it to simply from reading the logline, it makes unexpected and engaging arguments along the way, while painting a meaningful portrait of a country, and its society and characters that we tend to only see from the outside.
Plus, it treats its queerness with surprising depth and compassion—not an issue that should be “agreed to be disagreed” upon, but an unmovable element of a person’s fabric. Like its title, it’s perhaps a little too saccharine, but sometimes the most compelling messages are delivered that way.
While Strawberry & Chocolate is not currently streaming through any official channels, it can be found in full on YouTube, with and without subtitles.
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Lesbian grandmas, gay fashion photographers & bisexual throuples: Spanish-language films to stream for Hispanic Heritage Month
From a devastating real-life romance to a farcical fairytale about finding love late in life, these movies explore the Hispanic experience through a queer lens.
