Cuba and the Cameraman

At its best, this documentary has some similarity to the Up series of films revisiting a group of British men and women every seven years to see what they're up to. The joy and excitement filmmaker Jon Alpert exudes upon rediscovering the friends he has made in Cuba over the years through their ups and downs is obvious and contagious. The farmers, vendors, and families he follows over the years from childhood to adulthood to old age display a kind of transcendent charm in their smiles and good humor, a good humor that only turns grim in the aftermath of the collapse of the Soviet Union and the end of the billions of dollars in subsidies that kept the Cuban economy running. And the charisma and charm of Fidel Castro, no matter what you thought of him, is undeniable in his interactions with Alpert; there's something hilarious about Castro writing a "Please excuse my absence" letter for Alpert's daughter to give to her teacher when she tagged along for a visit, for instance.

But the magic and wonder of Cuban culture and the Cuban people conveyed in the raw footage compiled from several visits spanning from 1975 to 2016 seem to happen in spite of Alpert, and there are times you wish he would simply get out of the way. The beginning of the movie, for instance, in which Alpert explains his use of the then-new video camera to muckrake in New York City, goes on for entirely too long. The voice-overs often don't say anything the camera footage isn't already saying on its own. Which isn't a deal-breaker to the enjoyment of Cuba and the Cameraman, but it definitely prevents a good movie from being great.