A la calle (2020)

Directed by: Maxx Caicedo, Nelson G. Navarrete | 111 minutes | documentary

‘Do we live in a dictatorship in Venezuela?’, a visibly tired Nicolas Maduro asks his supporters during a march of the socialist party. ‘No!’ they answer in unison. ‘Or do we live in a true democracy?’ ‘Yeah!’, his supporters yell. They seem like simple questions, which the straightforward documentary ‘A la calle’ revolves around: can Venezuela still be called a democracy? And when do you actually speak of a dictatorship? The film, which focuses on the resilience of the Venezuelan people, tries to find answers to these questions. That is still quite difficult in the South American country, once one of the most prosperous countries on the continent.

That is mainly, as Harvard professor Ricardo Hausmann explains, among others, because the threat in Venezuela comes from within. The government itself – once democratically elected – has been eroding democracy in recent years by constantly enacting new institutions and laws that bolster its power, acting with so much repression against its citizens that there is no longer any question of a free democracy. But there’s one thing that keeps oppressed citizens out on the streets, says a young activist, one of the many Venezuelans featured in the film: hunger.

But just saying this can cost you as a citizen dearly. Recognizing that there is a humanitarian crisis, that people are starving, that hospitals are facing enormous shortages and that facilities such as electricity and education are barely functioning, is an absolute no-go for Maduro’s regime. He himself continues to preach the socialist myth: that his government is committed to the poor Venezuelans with social initiatives such as food aid.

Directors Nelson G. Navarrete and Maxx Caicedo, two young American filmmakers with Venezuelan and Colombian roots respectively, let all kinds of compatriots speak in ‘A la calle’, which centers around the protests of 2017 and 2018. This polyphony works well: as viewers we receive an explanation of the situation, we sympathize with human suffering and are on the edge of our seats when there seems to be light at the end of the tunnel – although the hope is often short-lived. We hear and see professors, garbage collectors and hairdressers, the leader of the opposition, the founder of the medical student initiative ‘Green Cross’ and the young leader of an action group that mobilizes young people, at the risk of their own lives, to work day after day, year after year. to continue taking to the streets to protest against the regime.

And that regime, the film shows in detail, has completely failed the people over the past decade. After the charismatic leader Hugo Chávez died in 2013, it became clear what bubble his socialist economy was based on: sharply rising oil prices had left his government for a short time with plenty of money to spend on social projects for the poorest citizens of the country. But that skyrocketing spending proved unsustainable as oil prices plummeted and lasting improvements Chávez had barely made. Since his successor Maduro was put forward, things have gone from bad to worse. The continent has never experienced a greater economic and humanitarian crisis, the directors clarify. Basic necessities have either become unobtainable or have become unaffordable; hyperinflation means that people have to go to the greengrocer with bags full of bills (who weigh the money instead of counting it). Hospitals have hardly any medicines in stock, and the democratic constitutional state has been dismantled piece by piece. For example, after parliamentary elections in 2015, which were overwhelmingly won by the opposition, Maduro sidelined the parliament (Asamblea Nacional) by removing all power and founding a new, pro-regime body a year later: the Asamblea Constituyente.

That region became too much for the population: Venezuelans took to the streets en masse in 2017. The images shot by the directors on the street are the heart of the film and are very impressive. In the civil protests, which continued in 2018 and 2019, thousands of people were injured, hundreds were killed and more than 5,000 people were imprisoned.

One of them is opposition leader Leopoldo López, a muscular family man who will continue to fight for his country at all costs, even if it costs him his freedom (he was imprisoned for more than three years), his family life and even his safety – during a demonstration in 2019 he fled into the Spanish embassy and he has been living with his family from Spain since the end of that year. Apolitical Venezuelans also fled the country en masse. For example, we see Randal, who since the birth of his daughter struggles with the inability to provide for his family, after years of scraping and scraping, leave for neighboring Colombia – just like more than 4.5 (!) million compatriots who have moved elsewhere. the past five years.

Extra painful, with all this in mind, are the images of an increasingly fatter, dancing and singing Maduro, even though the images have been featured frequently in international media. A BBC interview in which he is put to the test is also extremely wry.

In fact, it is almost unbearable to get all this information over you in just under an hour and a half. It is of course good that an international audience realizes that this story is still going on, the battle is not yet over and the situation has only gotten worse since early 2020 (where the film more or less ends). But after the credits, the viewer is left with many questions. Were there no other opposition leaders to picture than just López and later his confidant Juan Guaidó, the new speaker of parliament who proclaimed himself interim president? How constitutional was that action really? Was the military really planning to ‘defect’ en masse to Guaidó, as the film suggests? And what happened after 2020? The questions are actually too important for the film to be really current and complete. Hopefully the makers will come up with a part 2.