Tundra

Tundra isn’t the easiest film to get a handle on. The story ostensibly follows a day in life of Walfrido (Mario Guerra) in which he searches for the woman who haunts his dreams, goes about his job demanding arrears from destitute families for electricity fraud, and grows increasingly concerned about the giant slug growing and occupying ever more space in his home. Quite how these elements fit together in service of the plot remains intentionally unclear, but they coalesce to create the irresistible reality of José Luis Aparicio’s weird allegorical science-fiction noir.

Comparisons to famously esoteric filmmakers like David Lynch seem natural, but there is a lot here that is directly relatable to the experience of living under Cuba’s authoritarian rule than might be readily apparent. The symbolism may be difficult to decipher, but there is a clear desire in the filmmaking to imbue the stifling atmosphere with pointed political commentary. Walfrido might be seduced by a vague fantasy of freedom, but he is also a tool of the film’s pervasive regime and, depending on your understanding of the young woman accompanying him around the city, may have unsettling skeletons rattling around his own closet. Meanwhile the creatures – referred to only as ‘the infection’ – go largely unremarked upon, in a way that arguably illustrates the blind acceptance by the populace of the cancerous effect of the state.

Quite how you come to understand the interplay of these different aspects depends very much on a personal reading, but the confounding nature of the narrative is moot. What is king here is mood. Enveloped in its murk, drenched in its neon glow and discombobulated by its restless camerawork, you form a sensory impression of what such an existence might be like, and this is Tundra’s most unique and impressive feat.

Director: José Luis Aparicio
Screenplay: Carlos Melian
Cast: Mario Guerra, Neysi Alpizar, Laura Molina
Producers: Leila Montero, Daniela Muñoz, Gabriel Aleman, José Luis Aparicio
Cinematography: Gabriel Aleman
Editing: Joanna Montero
Music: Rafael de Jesús Ramírez
Production company: Estudio ST (Cuba)
Venue: Sundance Film Festival (Short Film Program)
In Spanish
30 minutes