Quick Take: Few documentaries aim this high in their quest for symbolism, don’t be surprised if you continue to hear it in the discussion as one of the best docs (and films) of 2020. 

Cuba: a mythical destination with infinite allure given its off-limits reputation to Americans. What we know of it, primarily cigars and cars, indicates less of a lived-in place and more of a resort. “The last communist country, a sight to be seen” as one character describes it, in sardonic reference to the foreign tourists. Leave it to documentary filmmaker Hubert Sauper to illustrate this island in an authentic, lived-in way, and engage us in the discussion of all the topics relevant to this epicenter of culture and history, especially in relation to imperialism. What unfolds is a masterpiece of literary non-fiction.

Sauper’s previous film We Come As Friends left me with glowing praise and eventually, a slot in my Top 10 of 2015. Seeing Sauper’s next outing is a reminder of why it is so satisfying to track a director’s career: by seeing his previous film, I am primed to sit up and pay attention to the abundance of visual symbolism for which Sauper must be heralded. This follow-up is equally artistically realized, but noticeably more approachable to audiences; perhaps it is because he has a more clear structure while never straying from the vérité approach.

That said, you do not need to be familiar with the director’s previous work to enjoy this film: Sauper teaches the audience how to watch the film early on. In a short voiceover to invite audiences in, we are told the word “Cinematography” stems from the Greek words, “to write a movement.” And this is exactly what he strives to do: as his own photographer and editor, every single moving image feels deliberately captured and placed. I can only imagine there are hundreds of hours of footage because one moment after the next feels perfectly selected.

Sauper is the master of motif. Through his visuals, ideas are introduced that on their own feel ordinary, but with his context are potent. The first few minutes are packed with visuals that will all come back into the story. Smoke. Battleships. Silent films. The Moon. Cannons and explosions. Roosevelt. Pens. Ordinary objects on their own that together speak volumes on imperialism, largely due to their juxtaposition. When all the pieces of the puzzle start to connect and the subtext is revealed, it is a spectacular display of cinema at its most potent. Few documentaries aim this high in their quest for symbolism.

A few of Sauper’s visuals are recurring from his last film. Early on, we see the Earth upside down, as if a foreign exotic place. In his last film, this ties into the alien nature of colonialization (even in the title). Watching the earth during the night, specifically the bright lights of American cities, he points out how easy it is to miss Cuba because, in film, our eyes first go toward the lights. The whole film is on Cuba, but the United States permeates the island like smoke through media, technology, and even enters the hopes and dreams of Cubans. 

There are more visuals I could share that blew me away over the course of viewing. I can’t bring myself to both describe their place in the movie and then elaborate on what each of them means, because here it’s a reductive exercise. Cinema at its core is a visual medium, and this is a movie where you get to absorb that and participate in determining what each visual means. Simply put, you have to see it for yourself in context.

By the middle of the film, the emphasis on visual motifs is no longer front and center, and the film becomes a character study of island inhabitants. That isn’t to say those motifs aren’t there during the character moments: what the film does so well is introduce us to these symbols, and then once we move into character focus, we can’t help but notice them all around the image. Some are more obvious than others, but the film operates like literature in that it requires our attention and our own ideas to drive the experience. 

Epicentro follows a select group of Cubans, including many children, who illustrate life on an island where capitalism is an outside force, not the heartbeat. It should be stated that this is not propaganda for the island, these are human experiences rendered wonderfully ordinary, not fetishized. The film denudes the allure of Cuba as a playground for tourists. It is more than just a sight to be seen and take pictures of, it is a place of people who live, dance, and dream.

Characters in the film compare cinema to magic, especially with its origins. This film is a reminder that non-fiction films can have much more magic than we often realize when executed this well. Earlier this year, Epicentro won the Sundance Jury Prize for World Documentary. Do not be surprised if you continue to hear it in the discussion as one of the best documentaries (and films overall) of 2020. 

Distributed by Kino Lorber, Epicentro is available in virtual cinemas through Kino Lorber’s Kino Marquee today.