The film opens with a long take in which we follow one of the main characters, Landi, carrying a crocodile on his back through a swamp. The camera follows him from behind, the footage is in black and white, the vivid sounds of a jungle surround him, and the scene sets the tone for the entire film. The observational style is deliberate, and before our eyes unfolds a marginalized life story from Cuba during COVID.
To the West, in Zapata is David Bim’s first feature film. It took Bim eight years to complete it, and the result is outstanding. The film is a monumental depiction of an eternal struggle for survival, both contemporary and mythical. It is beautiful and incredibly gripping as it documents the hardships Landi and his wife Mercedes endure to put food on the table.
To the West, in Zapata is divided into two parts. In the first part, we follow Landi, without much contextualization beyond the sounds coming from a small radio he carries with him in the swamp. The radio is his link to the outside world—a world made up of revolutionary songs and ideological propaganda speeches from contemporary Cuba, far removed from Landi’s reality. After carrying the crocodile to his plastic-covered hiding spot deep in the forest, we witness his daily life there. He trims his beard, smokes, looks at family photos, drinks water directly from the spring, and rests in a small boat that resembles a coffin. The photographs hint that there’s a reason he’s in the swamp.
It’s rare to witness scenes one has never seen in any form before—scenes that reveal parts of a reality completely unfamiliar. But To the West, in Zapata offers a glimpse into a world that is entirely foreign to me. Yet, it’s not merely the access or perspective that feels innovative, but the way it is portrayed. There is a persistence in Bim’s work that makes the imagery impossible to resist. In a 10-minute uninterrupted shot, we witness Landi’s struggle with a crocodile, while simultaneously trying to keep control of his boat. Armed only with two ropes, the struggle emerges as an existential duel between man and nature. Bim himself stands in the water, presumably unprotected against potential attacks from other crocodiles hiding in the swamp. We hear every sound—the ongoing life of birds and insects around—and see Landi’s muscles straining with both the boat and the animal. The scene is utterly draining. You sit on the edge of your seat, tensely following every movement in this fight for life and death.
While Landi hunts for food for his family, his wife Mercedes takes care of their son, Deinis, who lives with severe autism. The second part of the film focuses on the daily life of the wife and son. Here, a different kind of struggle takes place. Mercedes’ expressive face, filled with worry over her husband’s delayed return, adds balance to the film’s first half. Mercedes and Deinis are also isolated, though not in the same way as Landi. They live in a quiet symbiosis where the mother’s watchful care and comfort bring a sense of calm, reflecting the family’s deep sacrifice for their son.
The film is a patient and quiet portrait of life lived on the margins. Through the family, we also witness a secluded country—a nation that finds its own ways to survive. But this is expressed without words. Just as Landi, Mercedes, and Deinis’s small family is isolated—perhaps even excluded from the village community—we can also understand Cuba’s isolation in an increasingly high-tech world.
If the first part of the film shows an unsentimental struggle for survival, the second part reveals the reason for that struggle: the love and tenderness the parents show—not only toward their son, but also toward each other. Bim himself says: “My intention has been to witness the daily and painful separation of a family as the only viable mechanism to stay united.” And that’s what stays with you after the film ends. A mythical story of survival at all costs.
Sanjin Pejkovic
©FIPRESCI 2025