by Hudson Moura
In the tradition of Canadian diasporic first-person films, filmmakers often delve into their experiences of exile and fragmented identity, torn between their homeland and adopted country. For them, cinema becomes a medium for introspection, a platform to ask difficult questions and to revisit the past in search of understanding. Such is the case with Seguridad, a deeply personal documentary by Cuban-Canadian filmmaker Tamara Segura, who came to Montreal to study film. This work touches upon another significant theme of Quebec cinema: the father figure.
Produced by the NFB (National Film Board of Canada), Seguridad will be showcased at the aluCine Latin Film+Media Arts Festival from October 16-19, 2024, bringing this poignant exploration of identity and familial ties to Toronto’s audience.
For Segura, multiple father figures dominate her narrative, and she harbours feelings of anger and disappointment toward all of them—whether it be her biological father, Jorge Segura, or the revolutionary father, Fidel Castro. These personal grievances extend to her homeland, Cuba. The film reveals an intricate dance of love and resentment that propels her to cross borders again, this time in reverse, as she revisits her family history intertwined with Cuba’s national story.
Born on the anniversary of Fidel Castro’s revolution, Segura was symbolically named the youngest revolutionary soldier of Cuba—a heavy burden placed upon her by the weight of history. The film is highly intimate and entirely spoken in Spanish despite the filmmaker’s geographical anchor in Canada.
Her journey in Cuba revisits the most significant places tied to her story and her father’s as she retraces the decisive moments that became turning points for all Cubans. However, the film’s most powerful scenes are not centred around the history of the revolution or her inquiries into her fathers, but rather the intimate moments shared between her and her grandmother. These interactions, infused with a striking sense of everyday life—an unmistakably Canadian theme in its execution—are so deeply personal and raw that, at times, we forget—or are made to forget—that we are watching a film. The emotional connection and communion between their bodies are remarkably poignant and moving.
Meanwhile, the vast Canadian landscape, both frightening and unfamiliar, becomes as much a character in the film as it reflects her internal struggle. It mirrors the expansiveness of Segura’s anxieties and suffering and offers a meditative space for reflection. The result is a long lament for a lost father and homeland.
Through family photos and archival footage, Seguridad offers a bitter but deeply realistic prism through which to view Cuban history—a history marked by the betrayal of promises never kept by a father figure who, over time, reveals himself as both abusive and absent.
However, the film presents a narrative flaw. Initially, it suggests that alcoholism is at the root of her father’s downfall. Yet, toward the end, there is a major revelation that perhaps ties her father’s struggles more closely to the Cuban Revolution itself than was initially understood. However, this crucial event is not well explained and is briefly narrated by a friend of her father’s, whose voice and tone make it difficult to grasp the significance fully. Although the filmmaker openly admits her struggle to comprehend this revelation, the moment feels underdeveloped. It could have been more thoroughly explored throughout the narrative to add greater depth and clarity to the film’s central themes. Indeed, this late disclosure reframes the entire film, offering a more complex link between personal trauma and historical legacy.
With its nuanced portrayal of exile, memory, and identity, Seguridad is a notable contribution to Canadian and Latin American cinema and an essential piece in the ongoing dialogue on diasporic narratives.