The Waiting List

 

In the opening scene of "The Waiting List," a handsome young engineer  Emilio (Vladimir Cruz) enters a rundown bus terminal in Manzanilla  province destined for Santiago. He, like all passengers in  egalitarian but long-suffering Cuba, receives a place on a waiting  list for the next bus. His prospects do not look good as the  passengers all around him complain openly and bitterly about having  been there for a number of days already.

 

When a bus finally arrives, it has room only for one passenger, who  turns out to be a company employee regarded by the others as a  beneficiary of favoritism. Demanding an explanation, they summon the  manager of the station, who has been busy in a shed trying to repair  the station's backup bus, a creaky relic from Soviet days.

 

In a scene that captures the strains on "existing socialism," he  assures the angry mob that as soon as he completes the repairs, he  will send them on to either Santiago or Havana. If the bus is fixed  before midnight, it will be Santiago--after midnight Havana. When  they demand to know when the job will be done, he shrugs his  shoulders and says that he doesn't know. From where is he supposed to  get the necessary part? The Soviet Union? The United States?

 

Despite their frustration and rivalries over getting a seat on the  bus, they still have a social conscience bred by 30 years of living  in a revolutionary society. When the blind Rolando (Jorge Perugorria)  arrives at the station, nearly everybody agrees that he should go to  the front of the waiting list. It is our duty to help the less  fortunate comrades, they say. Reflecting the other side of Cuban  realities, it turns out that Rolando is not really blind, but only  pretends to be so in order to get to the head of Cuba's omnipresent  lines.

 

With little else to do but wait for the repairs to be completed, the  passengers introduce themselves to each other and start making  friendships. Emilio is drawn to the beautiful young woman Jacqueline  (Tahimi Alvarino), who is engaged to a Spaniard she hopes to join in  Havana. Despite their obvious affinity, they find it all too easy to  hurt each other's feelings in this stressful environment. When she  discovers that he is giving up his engineering career in order to  work on his father's private farm, she accuses him of lacking  dedication to the revolution. His response is that at least he is not  running off to Spain like she is.

 

The plot of "The Waiting List" is based on a time-tested formula. By  forcing a bunch of characters drawn from a cross-section of society  to relate to each other in an enclosed space (jail cell, lifeboat,  stagecoach, etc.), you allow directors, writers and actors to focus  on dialogue and character. Before the barbarian takeover of  Hollywood, it used to make just such movies, including the 1958  classic "Bus Stop." Written by William Inge and starring Marilyn  Monroe, it depicts passengers stuck in a terminal during a snowstorm.  By appropriating such a vintage genre, director Juan Carlos Tabio  shows that he is not above using something that is still serviceable,  just like the 1958 American sedans that still ply Cuba's roads.

 

Of course what makes "The Waiting List" different from other films  based on such a formula is that it is set in contemporary Cuba, a  society that practically cries out for an honest portrayal. Although  director Juan Carlos Tabio is committed to the Cuban revolution, he  is not interested in whitewashing society. His last film "Strawberry  and Chocolate," co-directed with the great Tomas Gutierrez Alea,  dealt honestly with the problems of homosexuals in Cuba. Starring  Vladimir Cruz as a rather pompous and dogmatic young Communist, it  demonstrates his growing maturity through his friendship with a gay  man played by Jorge Perugorria.

 

"The Waiting List" also includes another pompous and dogmatic  Communist, a passenger who insists that an "unauthorized" project to  repair the bus by the passengers themselves is tantamount to anarchy.  This plan, which has been initiated by the engineer Emilio, gradually  evolves into a project to make the bus station itself a kind of  socialist utopia. As they divide into crews, work on the bus begins  side-by-side with an all-out assault to make the station a livable  place. They put a fresh coat of paint on the walls, grow food gardens  and repair water fountains. The bureaucrat deems all this activity as  practically counter-revolutionary and storms off to the next town to  report the transgressors to the authorities.

 

This film exemplifies one of the aspects of the Cuban revolution that  many people, including some leftists, find hard to comprehend. While  it represents the thinking of the most powerful people in a  state-owned industry, the message is profoundly anti-establishment.  The film is used as a cudgel against timidity and conservatism,  even--and especially--if it comes from within the ranks of the  Communist Party. By analogy, just try to imagine Hollywood spending  200 million dollars on a sympathetic film biography of Mumia or  Leonard Peltier.

 

"The Waiting List" is best understood as a weapon in the process  called 'perfeccionamiento' (perfecting) that is reflected on all  sorts of levels in Cuba, including electoral politics. It is a  continual effort to make sure that the popular masses of Cuban  society control their own lives and make government officials  responsible. Although the forms of Cuban democracy do not resemble a  parliamentary system, there is a constant effort to promote exactly  the kind of grass roots participation that "The Waiting List"  celebrates.

 

For example, in 1986 the Cubans established decentralized popular  councils in the Province of Ciudad de La Habana. This provided an  opportunity for municipal delegates to become local leaders in an  area smaller than the municipality, while providing a process for  closer links between the elected and the electors. At the time when  the Cubans were already working on the problem of democratic  accountability, Eastern Europe and the U.S.S.R. had already entered  into crisis over the bureaucratic system.

 

Even though the Cubans had already taken measures to rectify the  situation, this did not mean that they were immune to the winds of  change blowing over the globe. Fidel Castro himself said in the 1991  party congress speech:

 

"Can we suppose that those facts [the crisis in Eastern Europe and  the U.S.S.R] don't influence our country? Are we living on another  planet or on the moon, that we don't live on earth? Has the  revolution taken place inside a glass case, isolated from the rest of  the world and its problems? Can we possibly think that way? It is  very important that we know how these events have affected us  directly, in material terms. But they also influenced us  ideologically..."

 

(Arnold August, Democracy in Cuba and the 1997-1998 Elections)

 

In a way, the ties with the Soviet bloc that Cuba had established in  the 30 year period leading up to Castro's speech were a double-edged  sword. While it provided a lifeline that kept the revolution afloat,  it also introduced bureaucratic modes of thinking that electoral  reform and films like "Waiting List" are meant to rectify.

 

Ironically, the desperate situation depicted in "The Waiting List"  and the solutions offered up by the passengers mark a return to the  early days of the revolution when self-reliance and creativity  appeared on every front.

 

This was the scene observed by Edward Boornstein at the end of 1960  ("The Economic Transformation of Cuba", MR Press, 1964), when he  visited Cuba as part of an economists' delegation from the USA:

 

"When you walked through a Cuban factory, you didn't need to be told  that it was under new management--you could see and feel it  everywhere. In the Pheldrake plant for producing wire and cable,  formerly owned by Dutch and American interests, the whole office of  administration was filled by men in shirt-sleeves who were  unmistakably workers; the engineers had gone and the workers had  taken over. On the main floor, a group of them were struggling--using  baling wire techniques--to repair one of the extrusion machines so  that the wire required by the Cuban telephone industry could be kept  coming. In a large tobacco factory, the administrator was black; in  the metal-working plant formerly owned by the American Car and  Foundry Company, the head of a department turning out chicken  incubators was black. Black people had not held such positions before  the Revolution."