Out of the Darkness: Paraguayan National Cinema

By Rose Stokes

Three words to describe Paraguayan national cinema? “Work in
progress,” says Luis Aguirre, writer and director of Universo
Servilleta/Napkin Universe (2010) and he makes a good point. Paraguay’s
national cinematic output has been, up until very recently, virtually
non existent. This can be attributed to many factors, the most obvious
of which is the creative stranglehold suffered by the country at the
hands of Alfredo Stroessner during his incredibly repressive (and
recent) 35-year-long dictatorship. Paraguay struggled in the post
Stroessner years to find its cinematic voice and to begin to generate a
national film culture. Aguirre compares it to “the feeling you get when
you wake up from a long sleep, it takes you some time to get moving
again” which is understandable, after years of lying dormant, Paraguay’s
national cinema didn’t know quite what to do with its new found
liberty. But get moving it did, and now it’s sprinting towards the
horizon at a pace which is difficult even for the most agile cinephile
to keep up with.

The recent explosion in Paraguayan cinema has produced an array of
exciting, diverse and dynamic films and projects all trying to grab the
attention of cinema goers both inside and outside of the country. And
with so much untouched subject matter dealing with past and present
political and social issues, Paraguay’s cinematic gaze is spinning in
all directions; backwards, forwards, around and around. It’s hardly
surprising then to see films like Renate Costa’s Cuchillo de Palo/108
(2010), a documentary that confronts the mistreatment of homosexuals
during the dictatorship, hitting international film festivals like a
whirlwind, sweeping up numerous awards and critical acclaim in its path.
In the same vein of politically committed cinema, we find Marcelo
Martinessi’s short Calle Última/Ultima Street (2010), a film exploring
the harsh reality faced by Asunción’s street children, which has also
been well received outside of the country.

But Paraguay’s national film culture is not all politically
motivated; that is just one of its many branches. Films like Aguirre’s
Universo servilleta/ Napkin Universe (2010) and Marcelo
Tolces-Asrilevich’s Dieciocho cigarillos y medio/ Eighteen and a Half
Cigarettes (2011) are snapshots of contemporary Asunción which paint the
city as vibrant and full of life whilst giving a face to its rapidly
growing youth culture. In both cases the director manages to portray the
Asunción of today as a rich combination of old and new, traditional
and modern; a culture which has changed and evolved with modernity but
which still retains its paraguayismo.

In truth, the most electrifying thing about this cinema is that it’s
still in its infancy. There are multiple routes and options still left
to be explored and uncovered. As Martinessi puts it, “it’s a cinema
which is still deciding what it wants to be when it grows up,” and what
could be more exciting than that? As a cinema goer in Paraguay, every
time I set foot in another screening, the buzz is exhilarating; you
never know what to expect and there is a real sense of excitement as
everyone waits with bated breath to see the next offering. And what with
Paraguay’s hand of talented directors, all intent on making their mark
on this blank canvas, it seems the best is yet to come. So, Paraguayan
cinema in three words? My answer is “watch this space”.