The opening scene in the Netflix animated movie, Vivo, tugged at my heart and sent it soaring. I wasn’t prepared for the flute, the Tres (the guitar-like instrument that is such a key element of Cuban music) and the nostalgic skyline in La Habana with waves crashing on El Malecón and el Capitolio in the background.
Finally, after decades of watching animated films set all over the world, I find this sweet love story set in my own backyard across the miles of the Florida Straits and into that place where love, family, separation, and hope still live.
The story is precious, starring a quirky kinkajou (Lin-Manuel Miranda) and an even quirkier kid (Ynairaly Simo) on a mission to deliver a song from Andres (Juan De Marcos – you’ll know him from Buena Vista Social Club) to his beloved Marta (the iconic Gloria Estefan). It’s a sweet story filled with wonderful music and delightful antics.
I’m not one to care what critics have to say, but on one point I agree: it veers off into Crazy Land for a long stretch in the Everglades, but it picks up again in the neon-lit cityscape of Miami.
The film is fun and great entertainment for the whole family. I adored Gabi’s anthem, “My Own Drum,” which had me dancing in my seat (and singing along with Missy Elliott at the end). Still, it was the Cuban music, the Tres, especially, that thrilled me. And who doesn’t love to hear Gloria Estefan singing in English and then seamlessly switch to Spanish?
Its message of love and family, bound together with the healing and transformative power of music, saves the day, saves Gabi and Vivo, and brings a lost love back to life.
The film’s bittersweet message of loss touched me deeply.
I still haven’t written about the current events in Cuba. To be honest, every time I try, the words fail me. In a way, this charming story and its message has given me some measure of hope. The film focuses on the adventures of Gabi and Vivo, so it doesn’t feature the suffering of the Cuban people under the communist regime, but if you know what you’re seeing, the Tres, a passing reference to “dollars and pesos” and its 60 year separation for Martha and Andres, it gets those elements right. I wept for Marta and Andres and their lost love. I cheered for Gabi and Vivo, who found each other. And I shed more than a tear or two for my Cuba in Gloria Estefan’s theme, “Presente.”
I hope you’ll watch it with your family, and know what it means to be presente, too.
