Children growing up in the United States trust their parents to make the right decisions. As citizens, we are supposed to trust that the decisions made by the government will be right for the country.  For Cuban children in the mid-1970’s and the 1980’s, confidence was placed in both entities. Dependence upon government quickly disintegrated in the decline of the Cuban Revolution as the quality of life of the Caribbean island faced an intense downward spiral. In her film The Sugar Curtain, director Camila Guzmán Urzúa returns to Cuba to relive the her carefree youth and compare it to the harsh realities the country faces today.

Born in Argentina, Urzúa’s family fled from the military coup when she was two years old and ran to the open arms of the Cuban Revolution She grew up as a Pioneer, an involuntary supporter of Camilo Cienfuegos and Che Guevara, as well as their socialist beliefs.

Brainwashing the young in a Communist government was a national project, which didn’t seem bad in theory. Castro’s goal was to make all of Cuba literate. He wanted to instill a belief amongst the youth of unlimited possibility. Being a Pioneer reaped massive perks; it was like the Mickey Mouse Club of Latin America. Instead of trips to Disney World and fame, however, Pioneers received endless amounts of sweets, trips to workshops that resembled summer camp, and quality school supplies. Their theme song was not dedicated to a round-eared mouse, instead, harmonies praising Guevara rang throughout the schoolyard.

The tunes became less vibrant when the finances from a crumbling U.S.S.R. stopped funding the Cuban government. What was known as the Special Period arrived unexpectedly, leaving unemployment, lack of quality education and a buckling economy in its wake.

Urzúa returns to Havana in her film to document what has become of her childhood memories. She brings viewers to Tarará – the main camp she vacationed at as a child, describing images of beaches, amusement parks and laughter. What is portrayed on camera – broken down buildings, empty swimming pools and deafening silence, is an exact opposite. Visiting the school she witnesses a continued dedication to the Socialist leaders of the past as children recite their loyalty through song.  But deeper within the school walls, the torn books and gray porridge reflect the economy’s continued struggle. There is even a class centered on military action, complete with gun training in case of an attack – this is far from the trust and safety the government once provided.

The continually diminishing state of Cuba’s economy frightened residents because, according to Marx, this was not how communism was supposed to progress. Cubans fled the country in search of a better lifestyle, and Urzúa can lists more than thirty childhood friends who escaped to various regions of the globe. Not all Cubans feel the desire to vacate their homeland, however. Staying is a statement of loyalty to their home. Many with this belief are worried about the new generation of Cubans who are becoming too materialistic and do not show allegiance to their country, instead focusing on a life of glamour and tangibility.

With Fidel Castro’s recent resignation from dictatorship, the economic and political future of Cuba remains a mystery. There are many questions whether Fidel’s brother, Raúl, his expected successor, will push Cuba further into disparity or rekindle the flame ignited by Cienfuegos and Guevara, enhancing the economy and spirit of the Cuban people.

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The Sugar Curtain, playing February 29, is a part of a film series, Cinemateca: New Film from Latin America, at the Walker Art Center, which occurs the last Friday of every month. The upcoming months include Mutum from Brazil on March 28 and Silent Light from Mexico on April 25.