Havana

AUTOEROTIC

Sydney Pollack’s Havana was maligned rather maliciously when it was released back in 1990. Possibly because audiences and critics were expecting an Out of Cuba instead of what they got—a deblonded RobertRedford, mostly without makeup, looking terrifically grungy cool in his light pants and dark shirts, as a gambler finding nobility during the last days of Batista’s regime. How quickly we forget: Meryl Streep didn’t get him in Out of Africa, and there’s no reason to believe Lena Olin should get him in Havana. You’re glad she doesn’t, because if Redford isn’t altogether the right match for Madame Streep, he’s even more of a misfit for Lena. Redford is one of movies’ true autoerotic stars—he doesn’t need anyone else to turn him on. The movie, written by Judith Roscoe and David Rayfiel, and shot by Owen Roizman, has one other major difficulty: despite its 145 minute length, it’s not the romantic epic it clearly wants to be. Not big enough, it comes nowhere near suggesting the magnitude of what’s about to transpire. And the movie is so confined we start getting pissed Terence Marsh’s production design is this g.d. repetido. He and Pollack indict themselves for their lack of panoramic imagination. (The New Year’s Eve scene looks like it’s a cheaper lift from The Godfather II.) However, Redford charms, and manages to make us forget he drove the Cadillac convertible all over Cuba without ever gassing up, to say nothing of how he keeps from endangering his own life because he’s supposedly admired for being an adept card shark. (It’s true we can’t read his face when he’s upping the ante, but then, when have we ever been able to read what he’s thinking?) Pollack and the writers try to keep away from any political leanings but had they swayed, would not it have been obvious the message for America is, in repeatedly blown chances to make peace, it kissed the asses of Miami Cubans who as business and political leaders are no better than Zaldi’var? With Raul Julia, Alan Arkin, Mark Rydell and Richard Farnsworth, who has a good crack about sandy holes. Original music by Dave Grusin.

Back Next Home

ralphbenner@nowreviewing.com