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Buena Vista Social Club





Director: Wim Wenders
Starring: Ry Cooder, Ibrahim Ferrer, Ruben Gonzalez, Eliades Ochoa, Omara Portuondo, Compay Segundo



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I was apprehensive about viewing Buena Vista Social Club having witnessed Wim Wenders' fawning appreciation of Madredeus in Lisbon Story (1994), knowing of his often heavy-handed use of music throughout his recent films and after hearing rumours of his new film, The Million Dollar Hotel, being co-scripted by Bono and starring Mel Gibson. But the groovy old timers who comprise the band in this film are real scene-stealers, while the seductive use of crumbling sea front Havana as a back drop provides the perfect visual complement.

The film is essentially a feel-good story about how in 1996 Ry Cooder banded together a group of forgotten Cuban musicians with the idea of producing an album of lost Cuban music. Ibrahim Ferrer was shining shoes and Compay Segundo was rolling cigars before the Buena Vista Social Club was formed, yet their eponymous album went on to sell over one million copies worldwide and triumph at the Grammys.

The film is a collection of interviews with the musicians who tell of their love of music and their appreciation of life, inter-cut with concert footage from Amsterdam and Carnegie Hall, but any remarks about life in Cuba after the revolution of 1958 are not included, and Fidel Castro is a notably absent main character. Some sort of social-political element would have been welcome.

But the director pulls off a digital coup with Buena Vista Social Club. His presence is hardly felt except in the occasional over-use of a steadicam. He provides a luscious testament to 'age' by showing how much these forgotten musicians, who were plucked from poverty and obscurity, have to offer the world.

Its a fairytale ending when the band arrives in New York City for their final concert: put some aging Cuban music heroes in a limo and set them loose in the Big Apple and you have a recipe for obsessive viewing. Watching this film you'll silently promise yourself that when you grow up you'll want all the sartorial flare and lust for life shown by these funky octogenarian geezers.

Reviewed by Iain Tibbles


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