Fernando "Pino" Solanas died a victim of COVID-19 at the age of 84. He left behind a body of work that upholds a cultural reality far removed from the frivolity of show business: Art and politics can go hand in hand to transcend artistically.
At the time of his death in Paris, where he served as Argentina’s representative to UNESCO, Solanas was about to release the documentary Tres en la deriva del caos (2020), reaffirming that his artistic activity was intrinsically connected to his political militancy throughout his entire life, a responsibility that he assumed at an early age. La hora de los hornos (1968, with Octavio Getino), would open the curtains to a cinema committed to the oppressed peoples of Latin America.
I remember perfectly well, 15 years ago, while we were waiting to participate in the Mesa Redonda Cuban television program, how he spoke with youthful enthusiasm about the four-part documentary, which had as its greatest merit, he said, the ability to stir the consciences of viewers. An audience that would gather secretly in an Argentina ruled by General Onganía, and hold endless debates on how to enrich the film while waiting for the reels to be changed.
Fifty years after its production, as Solana was well aware before his passing, La hora de los hornos is considered a classic of Latin American and world cinematography. It is also a unique testimony to the liberation theory prevailing at that time, as the only way to achieve the second, definitive independence of the continent. An independence which the filmmaker had very clear in the field of creation, refusing the narrative models imposed by the dominant film industry, especially Hollywood. He would shortly thereafter develop the theory of the Third Cinema with Getino, based in a new way of communicating with Latin American audiences. It can be seen both in his extensive documentary work and in his fiction, including two titles considered masterpieces: Tangos, el exilio de Gardel (1985) and Sur (1988), both acclaimed at the Havana Film Festival.
The aesthetic proposals of these two stories, closely linked to the filmmaker's eternal obsession –his Argentina– brought renovations to a national cinema that was still very attached to its “golden years.” These stories also showed that Solanas was second to none when it came to the technical side of film, having honed his skills making commercials for a living.
He received awards in several festivals, including Cannes, Venice, Berlin, and Havana. In his opinion, form had no limits, a plurality that combines diverse artistic expressions, including music, ballet and painting, in an attempt to curb the excessive sentimentality of certain Argentinian films, without losing his highly developed sensitivity or a touch of humor, to avoid the realm of tear-jerkers. A style he called tanguedia (tango and comedy rolled into one).
He was a very Argentine, a very Latin American artist, who assumed politics as a weapon of combat and was put down for defending his ideas of justice, who to the chords of a bandoneon, turned his military-imposed exile into his best art.
