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One Way or Another poster

One Way or Another

1977 · Sara Gómez

For when you want a film to argue with — something short, sharp, and formally daring that makes you think about how societies actually change. A discovery, not a comfort watch.

What it's about

In Havana's Miraflores district, as wrecking balls clear the old slums to build the new society, a factory worker raised on the old codes of machismo falls for a schoolteacher committed to the revolution. Their romance keeps snagging on everything the new Cuba hasn't yet changed — loyalty to old friends, old ideas about men and women, old habits of the street.

The experience

Bracing and alive: fiction scenes suddenly give way to documentary footage, voiceover, and music, and real neighborhood residents share the frame with actors. It keeps you slightly off balance in the best way — a love story that keeps stopping to ask hard questions, and honest enough to leave them open.

The craft

Sara Gómez welds fiction and documentary into a single fabric — sociological narration, musical numbers, demolition footage, and neighborhood life all feeding one story. Rough-edged black-and-white filmmaking where the seams are the point: you're always aware you're watching a society examine itself in real time.

Why it matters

The only feature Sara Gómez lived to complete — she was the first Cuban woman to direct one — and it stands as a landmark of political cinema that critiques the revolution from inside it, made by a Black woman working within the state film institute.

Reception & legacy: how One Way or Another was received, argued over, and remembered →

Revolutionary Cuba examines itself with startling candor in the only feature Sara Gómez lived to make. A romance between a factory worker shaped by the old codes of machismo and marginality and a schoolteacher committed to the new society becomes the armature for something far stranger and richer: fiction scenes interleaved with documentary footage, sociological voiceover, musical performance, and real residents of Havana's Miraflores district playing versions of themselves, as wrecking balls swing through the old slums on screen. Gómez — the first Cuban woman to direct a feature, a Black filmmaker trained inside the state institute ICAIC under Tomás Gutiérrez Alea — asks whether a revolution can rebuild consciousness as readily as housing, and lets the question stand open. She died of an asthma attack in 1974, at thirty-one, before finishing post-production; Alea and Julio García Espinosa completed the film, released in 1977. Its collage of document and drama anticipates decades of hybrid cinema, and its portrait of a couple arguing their way toward equality still feels ahead of most love stories. One film, and a whole possible career legible inside it.

Lines of influence