Sara Gómez examines the intricacies of gender, class, and social change in post-revolutionary Cuba in One Way or Another (De cierta manera). One particularly memorable moment is when Yolanda and her lover, Mario, go out late at night and her friend follows them, appearing distressed and disengaged. The two women’s disparate social and emotional experiences are graphically depicted at this moment. While her friend seems lonely and possibly even resentful, Yolanda, who seems at ease in her relationship with Mario, enjoys the evening carefree. Relationships can change social dynamics, particularly in an environment when traditional gender norms are being questioned, as the friend’s body language and facial expressions convey that she feels excluded.

Yolanda and her friend’s difference draws attention to the disparities in treatment of women based on their romantic and social ties. Yolanda receives a degree of respect and attention that her buddy does not since she interacts with Mario on an equal basis. She stands out for her openness to question established conventions. In this way, via her daily deeds and relationships, Yolanda exemplifies traits of a revolutionary, not in a big political sense. She stands for the modern Cuban woman, one who is self-reliant, critical, and prepared to face the difficulties of a changing society. These exchanges are used in the movie to make statements on women’s roles in both the public and private domains. The conflict between the revolutionary principles of equality and traditional machismo is depicted. Yolanda and other women must navigate their identities in these settings, frequently encountering opposition when they try to be independent. This representation strikes a deep chord with modern culture, as many women still fight for equality in public life, the job, and relationships. The sense of exclusion that Yolanda’s friend experiences is representative of the experience of women who are excluded or left behind by societal advancement.

One Way or Another remains significant today because it addresses the intersections of gender, class, and social change with remarkable clarity and empathy. The film reminds us that revolutions are not only political but also deeply personal, unfolding within relationships and everyday encounters. Its depiction of women navigating these changes invites modern viewers to reflect on how far society has come and how much further it has to go in achieving true equality.

Sara Gómez’s Guanabacoa: Crónica de mi Familia (1966) impacted me strongly because it emphasized the importance of family history and cultural identity. The video does more than merely illustrate human stories; it depicts a bigger picture of life in Cuba, demonstrating how ordinary experiences are linked to national identity. It reminded me how essential it is to preserve and communicate our family histories, since they are the foundation of our understanding of who we are.

What struck me was how the video used black-and-white material to create a sense of timelessness, making the memories conveyed appear even more genuine and intimate. Small nuances, such as sounds and simple moments of daily life in Guanabacoa, helped to bring the story to life and demonstrate how culture exists in the everyday. This grounded approach helped me feel more connected to the lives of the characters in the film.

The film is significant because it provides a new tale about Cuba, one that is not centered on major political events but rather on everyday experiences. It focuses on a family’s trials and successes across generations, demonstrating how historical events and everyday living have impacted their culture and identity. The film emphasizes the importance of storytelling in preserving culture and memory, as seen through Sara Gómez’s lens. It reminded me of the importance of reflecting on our roots and the stories that have been passed down through centuries.

Watching Agnès Varda’s Salut les Cubains and Octavio Getino and Fernando Solana’s La Hora de los Hornos was like entering two distinct but related universes. Both movies employ montage and narration to make a strong political statement, but they approach it differently. La Hora de los Hornos was combative and fierce. The striking images and intertitles made it impossible to overlook the message of neocolonialism in Latin America. Particularly in light of extractivism and the exploitation of people and resources by foreign powers, it felt weighty yet necessary. The movie aims to educate and motivate audiences to take action. Salut les Cubains, on the other hand, was equally significant but had a lighter tone. Varda focused on Afro-Cuban music, culture, and common people to represent Cuban life. The sights of post-revolutionary living were realistic and vivid because of the friendly and captivating storytelling. I liked how it acknowledged the political history of Cuba, while showing joy and resilience. What all that got me thinking about were the connections between American struggles and movements like the Civil Rights Movement, and for that I’d have to say I found both movies striking. Whether through exuberant depictions of cultural identity or militant calls to action, both emphasize the struggle against oppression. This made me ponder more clearly about media as a weapon for empowerment and education after seeing these movies.