Context
G. Cabrera Infante, 1929-2005
Andy Garcia
The death of the Cuban writer Guillermo
Cabrera Infante brought great sadness to all of us who cherished not
only his extraordinary literary legacy but shared with him his
passionate love for our native Cuba and its culture, to which he
dedicated his entire life. My collaboration with him on the film The Lost City,
an original story he wrote for me and that we have been dreaming of for
the past 15 years, has been one of the highlights of my life. Finally
after so many years of struggle the film is nearly finished and almost
ready to be viewed by the public. An experience he will never have. I
will try and find solace in the feelings of pleasure he expressed to me
after viewing the film for the first time just weeks ago. His
passing marks the end of an era—the tragic passing of a generation of
leaders and artists, who kept our culture alive in exile and who never
gave up on the tireless fight for a free and democratic Cuba. He
was a man of extraordinary intellect and literary genius. But beyond
that, the one thing I will always remember is his most-treasured sense
of humor and wit. His unique and unequaled wordplay, with its roots in
the streets of his beloved Havana, fueled by his uncompromising sense
of observation, seducing readers in all corners of the world. A Cuban
Groucho mixed with Sophocles, with a dash of the thousands of volumes
of books that surrounded him in his home in London. “Have you read them
all?” I once asked. “Only once,” he replied dryly. My smile could not
have been wider. “You like jokes don’t you?” I asked. “It’s
the laughter, you become addicted to it,” he said with a glint in his
eye as he puffed on his ever-present cigar. His devoted and beautiful
wife Miriam by his side—“Ay! Guillermo,” she would enjoy him even more
than I. What is one to do now? How does one behave faced
with a loss so great? Yes, our lives will go on, but never in the same
way, not without “El Maestro,” without our guide who for a time lent us
his eyes and used his pen to point us forward. All we can do is honor
him for his love of Cuba, its culture, and its language, by carrying
his example and sharing his wisdom with future generations. My deepest
admiration and condolences to his beautiful family. “Maestro,” I’ll see
you at the premier. Your spirit will forever be represented in our
film. A love lost, a lost love. The Lost City.
