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My interviewee is a celebrity with a multifaceted personality, as he has brought to life countless characters and puppets in his native Camagüey. He holds the puppet theater close to his heart; his voice and hands have transformed fear into certainty and misfortune into greatness. He is a straightforward man, both serious and introverted, and prefers to go unnoticed. He never imagined he would become so popular, nor did he initially aim to be an actor, yet he found his way into cinema. Allow me to introduce a great figure of Cuban humor, Diego Álvarez, the renowned “Cortico.”
Diego, you are in Miami. Did something happen that made you emigrate? What was your professional and personal situation when you left Cuba, and what route did you take to get to the United States?
I believe I am part of a society that emigrates for the same reason. Sometimes, one feels trapped in a vicious cycle, and in Cuba, everything is restricted; we can't express ourselves freely. I felt it was time to leave. I had already traveled the entire country, worked in film and television, and performed in theaters. I had done everything a comedian is allowed to do in Cuba.
I never worked for recognition, nor did I strive to be awarded; I have only worked for the audience to have fun, to feel connected to everything I do, and to be as happy as I am.
Emigration is a part of me. I left Camagüey for Havana and from there to the United States. I need to change direction from time to time, with my backpack on my shoulder, striving to achieve new goals. I believe that emigration is a fundamental aspect of being human, and moreover, when you don’t feel comfortable where you live, you have to leave. I no longer enjoyed what I was doing. I took the route through the border, presented myself in Mexico since I had a visa, and they allowed me to pass. That’s why I’m I-220A; I’m one of those who crossed the border, from Cuba to Mexico and then to the United States.
Many Cubans have left the country, embarking on a journey without considering the dangers, taking children and the elderly with them, plunging into uncertainty. What is causing this exodus?
It’s clear that there would be a stampede. It’s a heavy burden to leave with children, uncertain whether we will make it or if we might lose our lives in the attempt; it doesn’t matter whether by land or by sea.
The first thing we Cubans lose in Cuba is our smile. When we lose the ability to smile, we lose the most vulnerable condition of being human. A society that smiles is one that is content, capable of facing everything life throws at it.
But one day, as I was walking down the street, I noticed that people no longer lifted their heads; their gazes were fixed on the ground, all very serious and sad. That was a sign, a concern that overwhelmed me.
The exodus from Cuba is evident: dreams are lost, the desire to live fades, your children have no opportunities for growth, and there are restrictions on everything. They impose a ceiling that prevents you from rising. It is difficult to develop and live as a human being in such conditions. You are born with intelligence or you prepare yourself, and just when you start to explore the possibilities for your development, you suddenly hear: “This far and no further.” And if you become a nuisance, they make you disappear, turning you into NOTHING, and ultimately, you end up leaving!
The worst part is that there is no hope in sight. People need to live off their work and see the fruits of their labor; they need to grow their intellectual, economic, and spiritual wealth, but over there, that is impossible unless you connect with the government.
When you arrive here, you notice a change — everything is filled with light and color… Do you think that this present in the United States is consuming your past in Cuba?
I believe that all of us who come to the United States experience our arrival with a degree of ignorance, because we didn't know it was possible to live better and we are not accustomed to development, to living like a human being. It's all a process of preparation, sacrifice, and a lot of hard work. I say this because many think that arriving here makes everything easy, but it's quite the opposite. This is something we all go through.
We need to reinvent ourselves and start almost from scratch. It's a second chance. It's essential to learn from this society that has given us the opportunity to be here and to apply our knowledge and efforts for our development. We need to learn a lot and rekindle the enthusiasm we had when we first started in Cuba. It's not the same for me as when I arrived in Havana with a backpack at 24. Now I'm 52, but I'm still pushing through, and although I may not have the same spirit, I remain eager to keep experiencing new things.
What are you currently doing?
I recently finished a comedy series for Pronyr TV called "Market Conflict." I play a market worker who has delusions of grandeur but isn't really prepared to be great because he's quite clumsy. The cast is excellent, featuring Roxana Montenegro, Gustavito, Col, and several intriguing comedians. I believe it has the potential to attract an audience and be well-received.
I am working on live projects, including one with Nelson Gudín ("El Bacán"), where I helped put together the entire kitchen area. I love cooking; I used to own a restaurant in Cuba. I assisted Nelson in his restaurant as well. Here, there are different customs and tastes; it’s a multicultural country, and you have to rethink things. Even the Cuban dishes that Nelson wanted had to be adapted because you can't limit yourself to just the tastes of Cubans. You have to create food that everyone enjoys, and that's how I try to do things as best as I can. I've been here for two years, and I'm still learning and keeping an open mind.
He didn't set out to be a countryman, yet he learned to tame horses and herd cattle; he didn't aim to be a husband, and he's married about five times. Not giving up and achieving goals is his destiny. He has family, friends, and loves marked by success and laughter.
What was it like to be born in the La Vigía neighborhood, those childhood memories?
Being born in La Vigía, Camagüey, in 1971 was a privilege because the streets were unpaved, and we played barefoot, enjoying games like marbles and spinning tops, and competing with hoops. That experience laid the foundation for the person I am today; playing together as a community gave us a beautiful childhood, filled with opportunities for imagination. I grew up in a family home where my uncles and grandparents lived, and as the youngest, I was always protected.
Based on those principles, what images would you never erase from your life?
I would never erase from my mind my family, and most importantly, my maternal grandfather, who taught me how to ride a horse, to lasso, and to chase after the cows. As a child, I dreamed of going horseback riding with him. And, of course, the birth of each of my children. The influence of my maternal grandfather is unforgettable; he meant so much to me. He instilled human values in me, taught me about life, and I would never erase any memories of my family.
Is it true that you were always the funny one in the group?
Yes, to be a good comedian, you have to be born with that charisma; it’s the main tool of a comic. From there, the rest is about honing it. I had the privilege of having very good instructors at the ISA (Instituto Superior de Arte) during the summer courses, and I believe that helped me a lot in creating more dramatic characters.
Tell us about Diego, who would start styling his hair two hours before going out because he would mold it with water and sugar.
Diego, who spent two hours in front of the mirror before going out… haha. During our teenage years, guys often try out hairstyles inspired by trendy artists, and I grew up influenced by the movie Dancing Smoothly, where the protagonist sported a cute little hairstyle. But my hair was straight and greasy, and when the wind caught it, I ended up looking like a poodle. My hair was beyond fixing, and I discovered in Camagüey that using sugar water made it stiff, so I'd go out like that until I started dancing, and then it would all fade away. Still, it served to create that initial impression… haha… Many times I woke up with my head full of ants and an unbearable itch! Haha.
How do you get into television and film?
I lived in a very small barbecue joint with Telo (Pipe), Eleuterio González, in Cerro. We rented, just like everyone else. We would go to "fight" in Havana to be able to do what we wanted with more purpose, and we found out that there would be auditions for a new show called "Pateando la lata."
I was introduced through Telo, who told me, "Let's go so they can see you." I had gone through ISA and knew how to create a character and get it ready, and that's how I started. They accepted me, and I was there, but I didn't expect anything more; I just wanted to be seen and to do what I loved, which is making people laugh.
Despite not liking the character I portrayed in the audition, they told me, "You're in," and that's how I refined the drunk character, which turned out to be Cortico.
At the cinema, I was informed about the casting for the film Operación Fangio. I showed up, and upon arriving home, I was told that director Alberto Lecchi had chosen me for the role of Luis. That’s how I made my debut in film, and whenever I worked in cinema in Cuba, I was always cast for serious roles; I never got the chance to do comedies or even a likable character within a drama.
In the end, I made a film titled Ernesto, and the character was a biology professor at the University of Medical Sciences. However, I promised myself I would never take on a role that wasn't comedic again because I don't enjoy it. I greatly enjoy humor; I have as much fun, if not more, than the audience that laughs. It makes me happy, and that's the most important thing when performing drama or comedy: conveying your emotions. Humor was born with me; it's my other self. For example, Cortico has the courage that Diego lacks when it comes to expressing himself.
In Miami, most of the prominent comedians from recent times in Cuba are located. Has anything changed among you, or do you still have a well-managed community?
There are some very talented comedians here. Each person came according to their own circumstances and has focused on their goals. The gatherings of friends we used to have in Cuba are rare now, as most people work during the week, while we only get together on the weekends. That's why you don't see many pictures of everyone together; each person is focused on what they want to achieve.
But yes, we make a difference. For example, in the world of reggaeton, they often attack each other; they are not united, and we are. The community of humorists or comedians is much more cohesive; everyone focuses on their own work and respects each other. I've never seen Bacán against Alexis Valdés, nor Cortico attacking Antolín, or Antolín targeting Robertico; I believe the most important thing is to concentrate on one's own projects.
Being a comedian is directly proportional to being intelligent; to make an audience laugh, you must be mentally prepared to elicit their laughter. We need to work with fine irony and metaphors, in addition to having a quick wit and a great deal of respect. A good comedian is both intelligent and respectful. Although we aren't all together here, meaning we aren’t congregated, we respect each other, and each person is focused on their own life, work, and family, and I emphasize, with a lot of respect.
In Cuba, there are several realities: one is that of the people, which feels like a dream out of The Matrix, but it's very real and sad; the other consists of luxury cars, trips, lavish meals, and the smiles on the faces of government officials and their families, which are very visible, lacking any modesty, and displayed across social media. What do you think?
Since Fidel Castro implemented his social project, everything was conducted in secrecy and hidden away. All information was withheld from us; censorship has always been a fundamental principle in that country. However, the internet emerged, and now there is no way to conceal anything. This control over information was also practiced by Stalin, Mao Tse Tung, Mussolini, and Hitler: the state completely controlled all news and information. Stalin once said, "Information is power."
They needed that power to manipulate an entire population. In Cuba, none of the leaders have lived up to the people, and none understand sacrifice; they have never endured the hardships and sufferings that the Cuban population faces. People have seen their luxurious lives on social media. None of them spend hours waiting in line for a chicken leg. It’s deeply troubling, and the people are aware of it, but they have to remain silent because, otherwise, you know what happens—repression.
Fed up with dogmas and excommunications, on November 27, 2020, a group of university students, intellectuals, and artists gathered in front of the Ministry of Culture, calling for a dialogue about freedom of expression and an end to the harassment of creators inside and outside the island. The response was one of rejection. More turmoil occurred on July 11, 2021, leading to the imprisonment of political dissidents. How does this situation affect you?
It brings me great sadness and anger. I have a friend who was at the Ministry of Culture that day, and since then, he has been under house arrest. They have fabricated numerous charges against him, as is customary for that government when someone has an opinion and thinks differently. My friend, Jorge Fernández Era, was a comedian with the group Nos y Otros. Over the years, he graduated from the University of Havana with a degree in Journalism and has become a significant intellectual in the fields of humor and literature. That man is suffering deeply in a society like that, where you have no rights because it operates like a dictatorship.
They kept that hidden for many years, but I believe it's only a matter of time because that society can't suffer any longer than it already has. Its young people have stopped believing, and it must be very close to the point where that project dies; it’s dreadful to see the number of prisoners who are locked up simply for realizing that it doesn't work or for thinking differently and expressing themselves.
These disturbances and claims are attributed to a lower sector of society, but in reality, it is the intellectuals who are at the forefront, seeking something as simple as a dialogue. However, they will not be heard, because the Cuban government is intolerant of criticism. The youth are the ones who will make a difference because they have clarity. They don't believe a word, as the situation in the community is all too evident; the streets are empty not just out of fear of going out, but because there are no young people willing or able to be on the streets—there is so much to invent just to put food on the table, and... what money do they have to go out? It is such a grim reality!
A remedy for political lies
The best remedy for political lies is to expose them; I have no other response than to publicly debunk them.
What do you regret?
I am not one to regret things. As Pablo Milanés said, "Before doing it, you should think it through very well," and that’s exactly what I always do. I have no regrets about anything.
What are you proud of?
I feel proud to be Cuban, to have been born in Camagüey. I take great pride in being a father and in what I have accomplished, even though I often reflect on myself. I strive to do good and I am proud to uphold the values my grandfather instilled in me.
I don’t like how they attack each other on social media; YouTubers go after one another and look down on some Cubans. We might make mistakes, but we need unity. We should face what we want, but as a team. In this country, achievements are made together; individual leadership doesn’t work here, either in life or in general. That's what it's all about.
Are you happy?
I am not happy right now because I have part of my life in Cuba: my mom is far from me, and I am her only child; I have my little daughter in Cuba whom I cannot see. Then there’s Dieguito, who sometimes needs a hug from his dad; and, regardless of everything else, I still don’t have papers here, and I don't know how long that will take.
The truth is, I don't know when I will be able to set foot in my country again. I am one of those censored in Cuba, and that's why I am not happy. We spend our lives feeling sad, searching for happiness, caught between two states: sadness and joy, until we finally achieve it. As long as my people are far away, I cannot be happy.
What does Diego or Cortico wish for the people of Cuba?
Diego and Cortico wish the people of Cuba the happiness they deserve, but they will not achieve it as long as a system like the current one exists, always surrounded by lies, incompetence, and excuses. The blame for its inefficiency always falls on others; you will never hear the government say, "We made a mistake." Since that system took control in Cuba, they have never admitted, "We messed up." There is no effort to provide opportunities for people to fight, to free tariffs, to create their own markets; there is never a respite for the people.
I wish Cuba and its people all the best, knowing that they already understand how to achieve it, so that one day Cubans can smile without worries, without having to speak softly or in code, without having to hide what they feel, and can be free!
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