Since we in the United States don't often get to see Cuban movies*, it's refreshing to see "Nada". It portrays a woman named Carla Perez working in a Havana post office opening people's letters and rewriting them so as to make them more comprehensible and even poetic...much to the chagrin of her supervisors (who, if combined, would act like and resemble the Wicked Witch of the West). But this might set in motion a new path for Carla's relationships with people.Aside from the main plot, the movie gives us a look at the lives of ordinary Cubans, far from the famous images of Fidel Castro and his cabinet. The black-and-white cinematography with a few objects colored gives one - well, gives me, at least - the sense of people feeling somewhat depressed in a world without guaranteed electricity, but trying as hard as possible to pull through.One thing that I noticed in the movie is that all the characters had names beginning with C (Carla, Cunda, Concha, etc). I wonder what was up with that. It may have had something to do with Cuba beginning with C (along with Cuba's trading partner China).Overall, worth seeing.*It seems like this might also be the case in Cuba; I think that most of the movies which they get to see in Cuba come from - where else? - the United States.

Opinions seem to vary greatly about this film. Some viewers seem to like it, find it real cute, compare it to Amelie, enjoy the shifts in style and tone. Others seem to loathe it, find it derivative, decry the exaggerated acting, disjointed style and too simple story, and feel they have wasted 90 minutes watching it. The opinions run all over the map, as the grades and critics reviews show. Some love it, many hate it.I don't understand the latter group. This is exactly the kind of film I enjoy, in the same style as the movies of Richard Lester and Maurizio Nichetti (the early ones like Ratataplan). Start with a rather original story: a lonely post office employee who rewrites letters in her spare time. Amelie came out at the same time, and features a young girl who also tries to change others lives, but in many ways Nada is more fun and less smug. The disjointed style and abrupt shifts of tone kept me entertained. Here is a director who loves to play around. The slapstick scenes were exaggerated, as they should be, the romantic scenes funny and touching, and two sections showing how the letters affect their recipients were, in my opinion, successfully poetic.Malberti shows promising talent with interesting predominately black and white camera work, which sometimes imitates the style of silent comedy, from Chaplin features to Keystone Cops. The quirky editing, overhead shots, fanciful touches, and series of funny supporting characters all contribute to the movie's charm. Thais Valdez is really charming, at the same time a fun cute tomboy and a mature weary lover. She is a real find.If you like your films sober, intellectual and serious pass this one up. If you are ready for a wild mixture of bureaucratic satire, introspective social drama, slapstick comedy, cute love story, Havana travelogue and some poetic moments then jump along... It's a real fun ride!

Nada+ "Nada+" (Nothing More) is the latest in a series of Cuban films such as "Strawberries and Chocolate" and "The Waiting List" that satirize bureaucracy. Such films are the most effective rebuttal to claims in both the conservative and liberal press that Cuba is a totalitarian dungeon. Indeed, "Nada+" is irrefutable evidence that the main challenge to bureaucratic stupidity and oppression comes from the government itself, since without government funding such films would never see the light of day.What better symbol of bureaucracy is there than the post office, which serves as the setting for "Nada+." Carla Perez (Thäis Valdés) is a young, beautiful and supremely bored clerk who spends each day rubberstamping incoming mail while listening to music on a portable radio at her desk.To relieve the tedium, she has begun to steal letters in order to get into the lives of the writers, who function as characters in soap operas for her. Taking things one step further, she begins to write back letters to the sender in the name of the original recipient. But her letters are more compassionate, more loving and more sensitive than anything that they would be capable of, with an impact that is often highly dramatic.One of the unsuspecting recipients is a Cuban equivalent of Doctor Phil, who has an afternoon talk show proffering advice to the unhappy, but he himself is far more tormented than any of his callers. He throws a tantrum one day at Carla's office when no letters are found in his mailbox, accusing the workers of stealing his mail. In this instance, however, Carla had nothing to do with it. Taking pity on him, she decides to write him a fan letter assuming the identity of one of his viewers. So deeply moved is he by her words that he confesses to his audience that he has been living a lie, tears off his toupee and attempts to strangle himself with a microphone cord!

I caught this Cuban film at at an arthouse film club. It was shown shortly after the magisterial 1935 Silly Symphony cartoon where the Isle of Symphony is reconciled with the Isle of Jazz. What with the recently deceased Ruben Gonzalez piped through speakers in this old cinema-ballroom and a Cuban flag hanging from peeling stucco rocaille motifs, the scene was set for a riproaring celebration of engaged filmmaking and synchronised hissing at the idiocies of Helms-Burton. But then the film started. And the cinema's peeling paint gradually became more interesting than the shoddy mess on-screen.The storyline of Nada Mas promises much. Carla is a bored envelope-stamper at a Cuban post office. Her only escape from an altogether humdrum existence is to purloin letters and rewrite them, transforming basic interpersonal grunts into Brontëan outbursts of breathless emotion. Cue numerous shots of photogenic Cubans gushing with joy, grief, pity, terror and the like.The problem is that the simplicity of the narrative is marred by endless excursions into film-school artiness, latino caricature, Marx brothers slapstick and even - during a particularly underwhelming editing trick - the celluloid scratching of a schoolkid defacement onto a character's face.Unidimensional characters abound. Cunda, the boss at the post office, is a humourless dominatrix-nosferatu. Her boss-eyed accomplice, Concha, variously points fingers, eavesdrops and screeches. Cesar, the metalhead dolt and romantic interest, reveals hidden writing talent when Carla departs for Miami. A chase scene (in oh-so-hilarious fast-forward) is thrown in for good measure. All this would be fine in a Mortadello and Filemon comic strip, but in a black-and-white zero-FX flick with highbrow pretensions, ahem. Nada Mas attempts to straddle the stile somewhere between the 'quirky-heroine-matchmakes-strangers' of Amelie and the 'poetry-as-great-redeemer' theme of Il Postino. Like Amelie, its protagonist is an eccentric single white female who combats impending spinsterdom by trying to bring magic into the lives of strangers. And like Il Postino, the film does not flinch from sustained recitals of poetry and a postman on a bicycle takes a romantic lead. Unfortunately, Nada Mas fails to capture the lushness and transcendence of either film.There are two things that might merit watching this film in a late-night TV stupor. The first is the opening overhead shot of Carla on a checker-tiled floor, which cuts to the crossword puzzle she is working on. The second is to see Nada Mas as a cautionary example: our post Buena Vista Social Club obsession with Cuban artistic output can often blinker us into accepting any dross that features a bongo on the soundtrack. This film should not have merited a global release - films such as Waiting List and Guantanamera cover similar thematic territory far more successfully.