Into a cramped, poorly lit motel room Communist college student David guides his girlfriend Vivian. So begins Strawberry and Chocolate directed by Tomás Gutiérrez Alea and Juan Carlos Tabío. “It’s like we’ve come here to do something wrong,” Vivian says as she looks around the room, the walls marred by cracks and peeling paint. David stands by the door, paralyzed. “We already discussed that.” He reminds her, anxious that his plan to lose his virginity might go awry. An innocent boy in search of sexual awakening, David must confront both the sociopolitical climate that prioritizes collective causes over personal desires and his own moral conflict. Whether it is the billboard of CDR (Committees for the Defense of the Revolution) across from the window or the hole on the wall exposing a woman next door having sex with a man, the motel room does not promise privacy for the private quest. And David is morally upright. When Vivian bursts out crying as she complains that David, like other men, wants only sex, he puts on his clothes to prove his love. “I won’t touch you until we’re married. And in a five-star hotel.” Thus, what follows is as much a quest for sexual awakening as it is a chance for David to introspect the world and himself.
Interestingly, this is just one of the film’s three beginnings. Following the title is Vivian’s marriage to an older, wealthier man intercut with the credits. The frustrated David stands with the crowd watching Vivian sign the marriage license; his promise comes to naught. His well-controlled life leads only to a failed quest for sexual awakening. Up to this point, the film strictly follows David's perspective, but a long tracking shot of Diego walking on the street with his friend German breaks the established point of view. German signals Diego to look at the disappointed David walking toward Coppelia, the ice cream parlor. David now becomes the prey, only that he is not so much to be exploited but to be rescued by this stranger.
Chocolate and Strawberry Ice Cream. Flickr, by Sabas Gonzalez (2019).
With the end of the credits comes the real beginning. Diego takes a seat across from David and puts down three items on the table: the strawberry ice cream, a bag of forbidden books, and some sunflowers. Respectively, they indicate that Diego differs from David in three fundamental ways. First, the strawberry flavor (feminine), as opposed to chocolate (masculine), indicates Diego’s homosexuality, a taboo in conservative Cuba. Second, he reads foreign works such as those of Mario Vargas Llosa instead of the books authorized by the government, politically aligning with the liberal values of the West. Moreover, he is religious when the government promotes atheism. The sunflowers are the offerings to the Virgin of Charity in his house. The unauthorized sexuality, coupled with the unapproved political and religious practices, characterizes Diego as a social outcast whom David, the good Communist, disdains. “Fly on the wings of imagination,” Diego suggests, as he invites David to his home to read forbidden works. However, David does not engage in the exchange until Diego mentions that he has some photos of David performing as Torvald in the school production of Henrik Ibsen’s “A Doll’s House.” In the play, Torvald, a shallow, middle-class husband, represents a social product of late 19th-century Europe. Likewise, David is also a product of the Communist regime blindly following the revolution ideal. To retrieve the pictures, David visits Diego’s home, and the visit made possible only with the photos as a lure foreshadows David's transformation from a mere social product to a man of agency.
Sculpture of Our Lady of Charity. Wikimedia Commons, by Andreas Praefcke (2009).
When Diego unlocks the door, David confronts an entirely different world. From the shelves laden with books to the walls covered by pictures of celebrities, posters of popular culture, indigenous masks, and religious icons, the cluttered room shows a mixed-interest owner open to different ideas. “Welcome to my hideaway,” Diego says, David paralyzed at the door. The apartment offers an exclusive space for intellectual freedom that the restrictive society is no match for, standing in stark contrast to the empty motel room defined by both social and moral constraints. David, eyes widening, though self-conscious, examines the decor when Diego asks him to sit in the armchair where Diego often reads John Donne and Cavafy. David has no idea of the poets, and Diego laments, “How can a country move forward if its youth don’t know John Donne and Cavafy.” Not a revolutionary, Diego, however, cares about the country’s future as much as David does. Born a Cuban, Diego believes that he also has the right to contribute to his country, even though society does not accept him.
Norvegiana, Henrik Ibsen. Flickr, by Øklands trykksaker - av Bergen Off. Bibliotek (2010).
Not necessarily in line with Diego’s progressive ideas, David gradually understands that different perspectives can co-exist just as the diverse decor in the house. When David’s friend accuses Diego, David defends Diego, asserting that Diego possesses principles. David forms his own judgment, not blindly adhering to the values established by the government and society. As the government blacklists Diego, forcing him to leave the country, Diego encourages his prostitute friend Nancy to develop a relationship with David, telling her that David is still a virgin. Before Diego leaves, he looks at the city landscape with David on a hill. David tells Diego about his first sexual experience. “You’ll never believe this. Nancy was my first woman.” Diego never reveals his plotting. “Impossible. Someone as attractive as you?” The joke conveys only bitterness of the unrequited love. And David and Nancy have sex in Diego’s bed! Diego’s indescribable agony nonetheless completes David’s sexual awakening arc. And it is not just about sex since Diego is now a man of his own thinking.
City of Havana Cuba. Flickr, by Cuatrok77 (2012).