The Filmoteca Universitaria and Mid-Century Cinephilia at the University of Havana

Arriving in Havana in 1948, eighteen-year-old Néstor Almendros (1930–1992), who would go on to become one of the most renowned cinematographers of the twentieth century, found that “Cuba was a privileged place to see films.”[1] Not only did he find a large range of moviegoing options with hundreds of movie theaters showing films from different nationalities in their original language, but he also encountered a burgeoning cinephile community. Significantly, that summer he also registered for a film course offered at the University of Havana, along with Germán Puig (1928–2021) and Ricardo Vigón (1928–1960), youngsters with whom he shared the enthusiasm to create a brand-new cine-club.[2] Core members of the cine-club included Guillermo Cabrera Infante (1929–2005), an outstanding film critic and author, and the prominent Cuban filmmaker Tomás Gutiérrez Alea (1928–1996). The university’s film-oriented resources provided their generation with an extraordinary opportunity to advance their passion by engaging with films intellectually.

While histories of Cuban cinema have long tended to focus on post-revolutionary film production and its implications for the island’s sociopolitical project, investigating early film preservation and programming initiatives helps extend the timeline for the historical study of the island’s modernity. Latin American projects like these, although modest in comparison to those of the great metropolitan centers of the mid-twentieth century, contributed to the diversification of local film audiences and established the basis for the influential cinematic trends that would emerge in the following decades. This study shows that the University Film Library founded in 1949 was the first institution that preserved the nation’s early cinema; at the same time, it supported university pedagogical activities and a flourishing cinephile culture.

In effect, during the 1940s and 1950s the University of Havana offered a cluster of film-related activities, starting in 1942 with the course “El Cine, Industria y Arte de Nuestro Tiempo” (Cinema, Industry and Art of Our Times).[3] Considered the first of its kind in Latin America, this early film appreciation course was taught by the film critic and educator José Manuel Valdés-Rodríguez (1896–1971), who played a crucial role in the development of Cuban film culture.[4] In 1949, the addition of regular film screenings through the “Cine de Arte” film society, and the establishment of the first institutionally-based film archive in Cuba, the Filmoteca Universitaria (University Film Library), solidified the university’s place as an essential location for the dissemination of film knowledge and for the exhibition and preservation of classic film titles.

These initiatives provided Havana cinephiles with a stable space for learning about film history and aesthetics, and for the collection and exhibition of films in a non-commercial context.

The Filmoteca was an air-conditioned film vault equipped to preserve 35mm and 16mm film prints. By 1957 it encompassed 150 films dating back to 1903, with titles comprising both foreign and national productions, including fiction feature films, as well as newsreels, documentaries, animation and educational films. I take an in-depth look at the Filmoteca’s holdings as a point of departure for understanding how this early film collection helped sustain Cuban cinephilia. Elsewhere I have analyzed the activities of various Cuban cine-clubs and the interactions between their organizers and participants during the 1950s.[5] Here, I focus on the material legacy of this early film archive by investigating the practical conditions of film archiving in a Latin American capital city in the mid-twentieth century. By cross-referencing the Filmoteca’s catalogue with interviews and articles published in the university magazine Vida Universitaria, I trace how the Filmoteca acquired its eclectic range of titles through a combination of purchases, personal donations, and contributions from embassies and private companies.[6] These acquisitions increased the university’s influence and enhanced the cinephile experience.

For Valdés-Rodríguez, like for many of the writers, artists, and essayists of his generation who converged around avant-garde magazine Revista de Avance (1927–1930), the critical engagement with cinema as art form found its first expression in the film reviews and articles he wrote for a great variety of publications.[7] This early commitment was also made evident through his creation of the first “Cine Club de La Habana” in his home around 1927, and through his first steps towards the implementation of a film pedagogy in the 1930s. For instance, in April 1932 Valdés-Rodríguez delivered a lecture at the Lyceum society of Havana entitled “The New Cinematographic Technique.” This was one of the first known instances of public discussion about the aesthetic and social aspects of cinema on the island. It was well received for its interest and novelty and recognized by the organizers as a topic “of relevant modernity.”[8]

The importance of cinema as a sign of cultural modernity captivated many writers and intellectuals across Latin America, even in contexts where no evidence of modernist cinematic works exists.[9] Cultural theorists have convincingly established that peripheral modernities respond to different temporalities than their European counterparts.[10] It is therefore not surprising to find temporal disjunctions in the evolution of Latin American cinephilia, often conditioned by the degree of transnational contact between local agents and metropolitan centers. Thus, some examples of 1920s and 1930s avant-garde filmmaking have been identified in Argentina, Brazil and Mexico.[11] However, the preoccupation with new forms of subjectivity and curiosity about the possibilities of formal experimentation were not limited to those countries where creative communities had access to the practical necessities of filmmaking, such as cameras, editing facilities, and projection equipment. In cases like the Cuban one, with Havana acting as a lively cosmopolitan city, local intellectuals engaged with these ideas through literature and other forms of writing for several decades. Across the continent, the cinephile’s positioning towards modernity manifested itself not only on a representational plane through the making of avant-garde films, but also through novel social practices intrinsically related to the cinema. By creating cine-clubs, collecting films, teaching about cinema, and pioneering a film archive, Valdés-Rodríguez’s life work crystallized the cinephile ethos of consuming, sharing and preserving film history.

The physical existence of Cuba’s first film archive, and the vibrant film culture it helped sustain, were signs of the modernization that the university culture and infrastructure were going through during this period. At the time, a large number of modern architecture and urbanism projects were transforming the city, and the university benefitted from these initiatives.[12] As part of the refurbishing of the School of Education, its amphitheater was equipped with film projection equipment. Furthermore, the university commissioned the construction of an air-conditioned film vault designed for film preservation. Additionally, the department had access to two 35mm projectors, two 16mm projectors, one portable 16mm sound projector, and the services of a hired projectionist.[13]

The drive towards the modernization of Cuba’s main institution of higher learning helps explain the favorable economic conditions enabling the construction of these new facilities. The implementation of University Extension programs played a key role in these modifications, as professors and administrators envisioned the revitalization of higher education. As expressed by Dr. Clemente Inclán y Costa, rector of the university, this would be “the most important means of progress” at the university, because it would allow them to incorporate new cultural orientations that had not traditionally been considered as part of academic training towards professionalization. [14] The members of the University Extension board were deeply committed to this vision of a modern university, which they conceived as equally invested in the theoretical and technical training of professionals as in raising the cultural level of the younger generations, “for the good of the nation” (Inclán y Costa, “La extensión cultural”). 

The University Extension Commission oversaw most extracurricular activities, with the exception of sports. Thus, conferences, publications, artistic and scientific exhibitions, musical and theater performances, as well as radio broadcasts and film screenings, fell within its purview. It was stipulated that these activities must take place at the university or at an authorized location, that they be designed to improve university culture, that they must be targeted mainly to university students and taught by university professors or specially invited guest instructors, and that they be devoid of political, partisan, religious or lucrative goals.[15] In practice, the University Extension programs institutionalized many previously existing activities that had an impact well beyond the university community, officially positioning the university as a Havana cultural hub, where innovative initiatives, such as those organized by the Department of Cinematography, could take place.

The Department of Cinematography belonged to the “Theater, Music, and Cinema” sub-commission, one of five within the University Extension structure. This new entity, along with previously existing units such as the University Theatre with its Dramatic Arts Seminar, and the University Fine Arts Society, was allotted a basic budget and encouraged to gather additional funds through their public events. In the case of the cinema department, the popularity of the long-standing film course offered by Valdés-Rodríguez through the Summer School since 1942, guaranteed a self-sufficient revenue model going forward. Therefore, it was possible to set forth a more ambitious set of objectives for the department. As expressed at the time of its opening, the purpose of the department was three-fold: to make available the films, projection equipment and personnel necessary for enhancing pedagogical activities, to contribute to a range of culture-oriented options through the university extension programs, and to increase the level of film appreciation across the university and beyond.[16]

Valdés-Rodríguez’s expertise as a well-known film and theater critic and his range of influence through personal connections across the intellectual and industrial sectors, were key factors that helped position his ideas about the role of film in education at the center of the university’s modernization plans. At the same time, his official affiliation with this reputable institution made possible the materialization of his own cinephilic interests, which had great positive impact upon non-commercial film culture at large. Importantly, through a fortunate confluence of circumstances, the newly established department was built to include the Filmoteca, which was well equipped to hold a collection of films that were used as audiovisual support for academic courses, as case studies for the film appreciation course, and as the foundation for regular cine-club screenings organized on campus.

By looking closely at the Filmoteca’s holdings, and discerning the provenance and the order of its acquisitions, we can begin to make sense of the selection criteria and to understand the range of filmic materials available to the cinephile community.[17] It is very telling that the first film acquired by Valdés-Rodríguez was Alexander Nevsky (Sergei Eisenstein, 1938). Valdés-Rodríguez had shown Eisenstein’s controversial historical film as part of his film course several times throughout the 1940s. In 1949 he was able to purchase it with the help of donations from that year’s student cohort. That same year, the official opening of the Department of Cinematography, and the beginning of the Cine de Arte film exhibitions, provided the opportunity to put in place a system to collect funds towards the purchase of more films. Thus, in 1950 he added two other examples of Eisenstein’s work, with Ivan the Terrible (Sergei Eisenstein, 1944), another frequent example used in his classes, and Time in the Sun (Marie Seton, 1949), the compilation of Eisenstein’s footage for his unfinished ¡Qué viva México! Project.

French titles also featured prominently in the first round of film purchases. Starting with La Marseillaise (Jean Renoir, 1938), and La fin du jour (Julian Duvivier, 1939), several other films by Renoir and Duvivier would soon be added. These included Madame Bovary (Jean Renoir, 1934), La grande illusion (Jean Renoir, 1937), Golgotha (Julien Duvivier, 1935), La belle équipe (Julien Duvivier, 1936), and Un carnet de bal (Julien Duvivier, 1937). These two directors featured very prominently in the selections for the course as well as in the Cine de Arte screenings. Many other French features, including La belle et la bête (Jean Cocteau, 1946) were kept at the Filmoteca.

The Filmoteca’s assets also grew through the systematic donation of short films and documentaries by foreign diplomatic entities. The establishment of the department had created a suitable environment for cultural exchange activities. Law professor Ernesto Dihigo, newly appointed as Foreign Affairs Minister, sought to create opportunities for strengthening cultural links with several embassies and diplomatic bodies. This partnership materialized through a screening series known as “Towards Friendship amongst Nations,” which was inaugurated with a retrospective of French films (Valdés-Rodríguez, El cine en la Universidad, 70–71). The screening sessions paired feature films with documentaries, many of which were donated to the Filmoteca. Thus, by the end of 1951, short and medium-length documentaries such as Van Gogh (Alain Resnais, 1948), L’Évangile de la pierre (André Bureau, 1948), La Révolution de 1848 (Victoria Spiri Mercanton and Marguerite de La Mure 1949), Georges Braque (André Bureau, 1950), Henri Rousseau, Le Douanier (Lo Duca, 1950), Saint Louis, Roi de France (Robert Darène,1950), and Balzac (Jean Vidal, 1951) had been added to the archive.

In addition to the cultural branch of France’s Foreign Relations Department, the embassies of the United States, Canada, Great Britain, Mexico and Brazil also lent and donated documentaries and educational films. Canadian short films such as The Loon’s Necklace (Radford Crawley, 1948) and Drug Addict (Robert Anderson, 1948), along with British productions Papworth Village Settlement (James Carr, 1945) and Instruments of the Orchestra (Muir Mathieson, 1946) give us a sense of the nature and possible use of these gifts. Mostly 16mm prints, these nonfiction films responded to the specific national discourses of the countries in which they originated. With topics ranging from local folklore to government messages to art education, their didactic intentions were designed for their original local audiences, and yet in the Cuban context they could be reoriented to serve new purposes.

By 1957, the Filmoteca had amassed a total of 150 films, in 35mm and 16mm, at an estimated value of $15,000 pesos. These included silent classics like The Great Train Robbery (Edwin S. Porter, 1903), The New York Hat (D. W. Griffith, 1912) and a trio of Charles Chaplin’s early films: Tango Tangles (Mack Sennett, 1914), By the Sea (Charles Chaplin, 1915), and The Adventurer (Charles Chaplin, 1917). Other notable acquisitions included early sound films like The Private Life of Henry VIII (Alexander Korda, 1933) and Extase (Gustav Machaty, 1933). While it is not possible to pinpoint the exact provenance of each of these films, it is clear that Valdés-Rodríguez’s long-standing personal connections with owners and managers of film distribution companies gave him first-hand access to information about the location of old prints, and a privileged position for making purchases and accepting donations.

For instance, Carl Ponedel, the local manager for Republic Pictures, donated Macbeth (Orson Welles, 1948). Mexican producer Jaime A. Menasce, who was also the president of the distributor Orbe Films, which operated on the island from 1947 to 1951, donated several Mexican films including Enamorada (Emilio Fernández, 1946), La perla (Emilio Fernández, 1947), Pueblerina (Emilio Fernández, 1949), and Los olvidados (Luis Buñuel, 1950).

Valdés-Rodríguez also credited him with playing a role in bringing “European films of great renown” to the Filmoteca (Grau, “Posee nuestra Universidad”). One cannot help but wonder whether those significant additions included other Soviet films he made reference to without specifying their source, such as Battleship Potemkin (Serguei Eisenstein, 1925) and October (Serguei Eisenstein, 1927) (Grau, “Posee nuestra Universidad”).

The intense focus on collecting Eisenstein’s films is partly a response to the difficulties that local audiences had faced in watching films like Potemkin during its original exhibition timeframe in 1927, when it was banned.[18] While Cuban audiences had immediate access to Hollywood’s latest cinematic offerings and exhibition technologies, throughout the 1930s knowledge about Soviet cinema was mostly mediated by the printed word, through articles, translations, and reports written by local correspondents. Valdés-Rodríguez, who met Eisenstein in person in 1934, became the main reference on this topic through his writing and conferences. The opportunity to guard and share the cinematic legacy of the Soviet Union was therefore a particularly dear endeavor to him. The tendency found across many Latin American intellectuals to equate Soviet cinema with art and Hollywood movies with commercialism, was also prevalent in Cuba.[19] By the 1950s, the university film acquisitions and film classes enshrined the first, but Cuban cinephiles oscillated between the two, while also embracing the new cinematic currents arriving from Europe.

One of the most significant legacies of the Filmoteca is that it constituted the first permanent repository of Cuban film production from the silent and early sound periods. As a recognized and well-connected film critic, Valdés-Rodríguez had strong links with the island’s film entrepreneurs. Collectors, producers, and filmmakers were quick to transfer the few surviving copies of early Cuban films to the newly implemented film vault under his care. As early as 1951 the painter Antonio Rodríguez Morey, then director of the National Fine Arts Museum, donated one of the oldest remnants of Cuban newsreel footage then in existence. With Los carnavales de Cienfuegos, shot by film pioneer Enrique Díaz Quesada around 1913 as part of the series of filmed news known as Cuba al día, the Filmoteca started the process of intentionally collecting the physical evidence of national silent film production.[20] This acquisition represented the first step towards the conscious construction of Cuba’s filmic heritage. The same year, film directors and producers added copies of their films to the archive. Ernesto Caparrós and Luis Ricardo Molina donated Tam Tam o El origen de la rumba (1938), while Antonio Perdices and Francisco Álvarez Coto, from the short-lived production company Películas Cubanas S.A., donated Sucedió en La Habana (Ramón Peón, 1938) and Romance del Palmar (Ramón Peón, 1938).

In 1952 the university held an official ceremony to celebrate the donation of a new set of Cuban film artifacts. Valdés-Rodríguez received the old film material from the state of Arturo (Mussie) Del Barrio, who had been an active investor in many national film production initiatives. In particular, the BPP company (named after the last names of Del Barrio, Antonio Perdices, and Ramón Peón), had produced noteworthy titles like the silent feature film La virgen de la Caridad (Ramón Peón, 1930), which was acquired in this way. Other donations included the two surviving copies of non-fiction work directed by Max Tosquella in 1930, identified as El baile de las naciones and La ruta de Maceo, along with the first sound film shot on the island, Maracas y bongó (Max Tosquella, 1932).[21] Later, other silent films were added, ensuring the survival of El parque de Palatino (Enrique Díaz Quesada, 1906) and fragments from El veneno de un beso (Ramón Peón, 1929). The negative and positive copies of these films were kept at the Filmoteca. Within a few years the collection grew to include newsreels covering key historical moments, the first sound feature film, La serpiente roja (Ernesto Caparrós, 1937), and other more recent national productions. Although the Filmoteca was never affiliated with the International Federation of Film Archives (FIAF) due to conflicts with an independent initiative favored by Henri Langlois, its treasured holdings were indispensable at the time of the emergence of the post-revolutionary Cinemateca de Cuba.[22]

The Filmoteca continued to grow steadily throughout the 1950s, as did the number and popularity of Cine de Arte screenings. During this time not all of the films that were shown belonged to the Filmoteca, but the collection guaranteed a steady supply of classic and prestigious titles that could be combined with more recent productions borrowed from active film distributors. The Cine de Arte screenings functioned as an institutionally affiliated cine-club, and its membership fees sustained the Filmoteca acquisitions as well as the salary of the three Department employees. This situated it in an advantageous position compared to projects led by independent cinephiles (Rozsa, “On the Edge of the Screen”; Vincenot, “Germán Puig, Ricardo Vigón et Henri Langlois”). However, it was not exclusively oriented to the university community, since it reached out to the wider cinephile population.

One of the keys to the success of the Filmoteca’s mission was the strategic convergence of priorities between Valdés-Rodríguez’s commitment to educating audiences about cinema’s artistic and social dimensions, and the university administration’s interest in the use of film as a teaching aid. Several articles in Vida Universitaria highlighted what were considered cutting-edge uses of film as a pedagogical tool. While there are indications that the Schools of Social Sciences, Pedagogy, Architecture, and Engineering, as well as the Summer School used the Department’s resources to include class screenings for their students, it was History and Art History professors in particular who embraced the medium’s didactic potential most enthusiastically. For instance, the early acquisition of La Marseillaise (Jean Renoir, 1938) was partly due to the interest and monetary contribution of a History professor who later wrote a book based on the experience of using the film to teach French history.[23] Another early acquisition, The Roosevelt Story (Tola Productions, 1947), was often shown in history classes. Valdés-Rodríguez played an important part in bringing the university to the forefront of pedagogic innovation, asserting proudly that it was ahead of other institutions in the Spanish-speaking world and North America (Valdés-Rodríguez, El cine en la Universidad, xv–xvi).

Although the pragmatic use of films as teaching aid does not correspond to the aesthetically-driven conception of cinephilia proper, it does imply a widening of the scope of cinema beyond entertainment. Furthermore, Valdés-Rodríguez’s strategy to exalt the work of the Department of Cinematography in the Vida Universitaria articles by making multiple references to its links with reputable academics, makes it evident that he was invested in increasing the cultural capital of the Filmoteca by highlighting its seriousness and prestige. To this end, he often invited university professors who were also his long-time friends and collaborators to introduce films and thematic film series.[24]

Small and eclectic, this film collection was by necessity multifunctional, perhaps a common characteristic of film archives across Latin America and the Global South during this period. At the national level, the Filmoteca and the resources associated with it provided the city of Havana with a tangible core where cinephilia thrived. Embodying the university’s modernization goals, the film archive, along with the film theater, played a fundamental role in providing students and other city-dwellers the opportunity to watch and discuss otherwise inaccessible films. Because of these facilities cinephiles were able to familiarize themselves with specialized terminology and with exemplary instances of film history, which inspired future filmmakers and contributed to more sophisticated approaches to film criticism. Although the aspiration to become a long-term preservation center was not fully achieved, and the archive occupied a secondary role in the post-revolutionary context, it is important to acknowledge that without this pioneering effort Cuba’s earliest film heritage would have withered away.