Things are getting rowdy around the sound board at the old ICAIC (Cuban Film Institute) recording studio in Havana. While the percussionist listens to instruction from the engineer, five or six other musicians, singers, dancers, and friends crowd onto the worn couches in the control room, passing around a soda bottle filled with rum. Not the smooth tourist rum either, but the rip-up-your-gut-25-pesos-a-fifth-from-some-guy-on-the-street rum. It's three in the afternoon. Tom Darnal takes the lethal paper cup he is handed as a matter of course; he's paying more attention to what's happening on the other side of the glass. The percussionist tries again. P18 is rerecording one of the songs from the... More >>>