Traveling through the underground airwaves, Kurt Cobain landed in Havana, Cuba, in the turbulent early 1990s. During the island nation’s period of severe economic hardship after the fall of the Soviet Union, the “Special Period” prompted thousands of Cubans to emigrate, risking their lives at sea. Those who remained suffered from great scarcity (the American embargo played its role). The grunge star never visited in person, but via the radios of locals who illegally tuned in to stations from the United States after Fidel Castro banned rock music. One of those listeners, 18-year-old Gustavo (Eros De La Puente), would later attempt to cover Nirvana’s hit song in the lively Spanish-language drama “Los Frikis,” written by Tyler Nelson and Michael Schwartz, the filmmakers behind this moving song. Buddy movie “The Peanut Butter Falcon.”
“Los Frikis,” produced by Phil Lord (a Cuban-American) and Chris Miller, is based on a strict real-life measure of self-preservation practiced by hundreds of young men living on the margins of society — aching for food and under constant attack. Of the system — took over at that time. They were willingly infected with HIV in order to be sent to government-funded sanitariums. This is the choice made by Gustavo’s rage-fueled older brother Paco (Héctor Medina), a rock singer whose chest tattoo reads “Basora” (Trash), a defiant embrace of what he sees as the regime: an irredeemable outcast. The term “Freki” applies to anyone outside the strict social norms of the state.
De la Puente, a revelation for a first-time actor, plays Gustavo with apparent earnestness, while his eyes are opened to the misery that surrounds him. The innocent young man has not yet earned his marks as a true Freak, and so the film takes the form of a coming-of-age story embedded in this historical context rather than focusing on those who are already tired of their harsh circumstances. Taking this perspective as their path, Nelson and Schwartz chose a more optimistic outlook rather than delving into real-life bleakness.
This narrative decision is a cause for mixed feelings given the stakes. Certain moments of raw emotion as the music swells seem in harmony with the vivid realism of cinematographer Santiago Gonzalez’s hyperactive camera. However, its brightness may also be read as an unwillingness, on the part of the artists, to enter completely into the darkness. It is also true that such exciting energy speaks to the inherent challenge of the Freaks. Their very existence can be interpreted as a political act, and their joy is an ideological weapon against the oppressed.
Gustavo is hungry but afraid to inject himself with the blood of an HIV patient (a method used by many), and secretly gets a fake diagnosis from a benevolent doctor. He leaves the urban decay of the capital for the lush greenery of the rural sanatorium where he reconnects with Baku. No one should know that they are not actually infected with HIV. With endless kindness, the operation is run by Maria (Adria Arjona), a young divorced woman whose brother died of AIDS-related health problems. The rising actress, most recently seen in Richard Linklater’s “Hit Man,” shows here not only that she is a thoroughly bilingual actress, but also her ability to occupy a different and complex dramatic register, one of sadness laced with verve.
Pulled out of survival mode—characterized by the uncertainty of not knowing where their next meal will come, and the certainty that violence will come their way—the young men and women under Maria’s care act like others their age: playing baseball, practicing their skills. Rock trails and promote the common good (in a way that actually leads to shared wellness). Those who have never experienced anything close to their ordeal may see nothing unusual in what this place has to offer. Within this microcosm, hemophobia and stigma are avoided. But that normal life, security and freedom seems like paradise to the Frikians. There, González films Gustavo in wide shots, as if drawing attention to the air of these natural environments where he can finally breathe.
But for Cuba’s outcasts, who for the first time are allowed to be unfettered, such wild celebrations come at an unimaginable price. The summer camp atmosphere of carelessness and camaraderie slowly disappears one afternoon as Gustavo witnesses the deterioration of those around him. The consequences of their determination, exercised under duress, became clear to see. As for Gustavo, the guilt of his transgression, sharing the basic necessities he acquired without risking death in the same way, troubles him. Nelson and Schwartz handle the sensitive subject matter with curiosity and respect. Rather than simply celebrating the Friks, the filmmakers honor their plight by portraying them as an example of how the human spirit can endure even when it is on the verge of being crushed.
Nearly a decade ago, Medina played the title character in the Irish production Viva, set in Cuba, about a gay teen who finds community among drag queens. Now the actor delivers an indomitable, force-of-nature performance and anchors the image with her unglamorous bravado. At first, Paco is worried that his kind brother may not be ready to face his harsh reality, and thus engages him in tough love. But it’s the poignant shift in their relationship – as Paco becomes fragile and weak and Gustavo asserts his strength – that ultimately makes the film such an exciting race, as the battalion holds out until support arrives to continue the fight for freedom, to survive.