Edesio Alejandro, during statements to Cubadebate. Photo: Abel Padrón Padilla/ Cubadebate.
As a new edition of the International Festival of New Latin American Cinema approaches, the genesis of which as an event cannot be separated from the development and consolidation of Cuban cinema, it is inevitable to consciously pair great composers who, throughout their careers, have contributed significantly to enriching the cinematographic language with their soundtracks.
We must go back to an indisputable reference: El Mégano (directed by Julio García Espinosa and Tomás G. Alea in 1955) whose music was composed by Juan Blanco, one of the most versatile Cuban composers and part of the avant-garde of those years along with José Ardévol, Argeliers León, Harold Gramatges, Héctor Angulo, Manuel Duchesne Cuzán and others.
“It is inevitable to consciously pair great composers who, throughout their careers, have contributed significantly to enriching the cinematic language with their soundtracks.”
Thus, Cuban cinema took an abrupt turn when the ICAIC was created in March 1959, and with it, all the currents of intellectual transgression in Cuban art at the time became part of its foundation; photography, editing, direction and music were undertaken by very talented people who took on creation in all its possible forms from a very personal perspective. Shortly after, the great collective laboratory that was the Grupo de Experimentación Sonora (Sound Experimentation Group) would come, as well as the ineffable work —and direct connection— of Leo Brouwer with national cinema, as well as other important names such as Sergio Vitier, Silvio Rodríguez, Pablo Milanés and more.
But if there is one thing that has set some established composers apart from a formal point of view in terms of cinematographic language, it has been specifically their introspection and stylistic flexibility in approaching, from visions that sometimes contrast with their careers, a sound universe that responds directly to the creative vision of a film director.
That is to say, the great masters of Cuban music who have left their mark on national cinema have had to learn the difficult craft of composing on commission and trying to impose, from well-founded bases, a musical criterion that artistically pleases the rest of the team. And that translates into experimenting and transgressing, often at the risk of being misunderstood as an author, and of undermining many traditional concepts regarding the literal accompaniment of a certain story to be told.
Few Cuban authors have had a musical career so closely linked to cinema. Photo: Taken from the artist’s Facebook profile.
Along those lines we could mention the experienced Edesio Alejandro, who for example breaks the mold in a classic like Clandestineby inserting a soundtrack that offers us current and contemporary elements very far from what could be expected in a plot that takes place during the armed struggle against the tyrant Batista, focusing specifically on the underground period between 1957 and 1958. Here the diegetic-musical language is interrupted in order to emphasize a fast-paced climactic soundtrack that, if we were to use a “guide book,” might not have worked. I imagine the long sessions of exchanging ideas, scripts and drafts in between Fernando Pérez and Edesio, but they were worth it.
Although there are directors who, as a kind of cabal, stick to one composer, it is also true that the greatness and skill of the latter makes their work a meeting point with other creators, as happened with Gerardo Chijona, who made the music for the documentary The longest breakfast in the world and for the fiction feature film The good demons; with Rogelio París (Kangamba) or with Daniel Díaz Torres (Kleines Tropicana). In this, Edesio recreates, with a wise musical intention, the whole atmosphere inherent to the story, not in a passive way but with a palpable and very well-structured intention, even with the scenes of intrigue or humor in the film.
But his greatest works have been produced for projects by the filmmaker Fernando Pérez. I mentioned Clandestinos, from 1987, but we could add in this order Hello Hemingway (1990), Madagascar (1994), Life is Whistling (1998), Suite Habana (2002), Madrigal (2006) and José Martí, el ojo del canario (2010).
There is a creative common thread in all of them, but mimetic patterns are not repeated nor is any kind of musical oversight resorted to; they go hand in hand with each of the stories, with well-segmented paths from the dramaturgical concept, even with novel elements from the aforementioned experimentation based above all on the musical work with electronic and electroacoustic overtones in Edesio, which has also been part of his work parallel to cinema.
Perhaps he is the author who has not brought his personal style to all his film soundtracks, perhaps he has been very careful over the years to keep the creative contours well defined between his different projects that not only encompass celluloid, but also record production, singing, as well as the tribute he paid to Adriano Rodríguez for several years by integrating him into his band on a permanent basis.
Few Cuban authors have had a musical career so close to cinema on a constant basis, although this should not make us think that it is a competition to determine who has composed the most. Leo Brouwer, Sergio and José María Vitier, Silvio Rodríguez, José Loyola, Juan Blanco, Daniel Longres, Frank Delgado and Carlos Fariñas, among others, are names that also stand out as fundamental and timely in the long filmography and documentaries produced by the ICAIC.
However, beyond the artistic recognition and specialized criticism (both cinematographic and musical), perhaps the delay in recognizing Edesio’s extraordinary contributions to cinema and the low visibility that he and many of his colleagues have had around the National Film Award, only awarded to Leo Brouwer in 2009 – a more than deserved and unobjectionable award – but being until now the only musician to receive it, is still pending.
In 2020, however, Edesio Alejandro was honored with the Music Award, thus recognizing a career that still leaves its mark on all aspects of Cuban music and that follows paths of constant experimentation. Two examples would suffice, if we wanted to describe them as almost stylistically antagonistic but referential to corroborate Edesio’s vast creative universe: the rock opera Violente (the first of its kind in Cuba and released in 1987) and the song “Blen Blen” from 1999. An artist with overflowing talent and intuition, without a doubt.
(Taken from The Jiribilla)
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