Buena Vista Social Club

Imagine if your grandpa and his buddies from the retirement home suddenly dropped the hottest album of the year:

Ry Cooder, playing musical archaeologist, unearths these Cuban living legends and assembles a global sensation.

It’s like “The Last Waltz” meets “Havana Nights”.

Short Trailer for “Buena Vista Social Club”

Longer Trailer

Watch “Buena Vista Social Club”

You can watch Buena Vista Social Club on:

You can find the latest streaming options at https://www.justwatch.com/us/movie/buena-vista-social-club.

Ratings:

  • My Rating: 96/100
  • IMDB Rating: 9.2/10
  • Rotten Tomatoes Ratings: 90/100 (Users); 92/100 (Critics)

Release Date: February 17, 1999 (Berlin International Film Festival); June 4, 1999 (United States)

Review of “Buena Vista Social Club”

Imagine stumbling upon a hidden speakeasy, where the air is thick with cigar smoke and the clinking of rum glasses. Now, transport that vibe to a sun-drenched Havana street corner, circa 1997.

That’s the magic Ry Cooder bottled when he assembled a group of Cuban musical legends for the Buena Vista Social Club project.

This isn’t just an album; it’s a time machine. From the moment Ibrahim Ferrer’s golden voice croons the opening notes, you’re whisked away to a world of faded elegance and irresistible rhythm.

It’s like your coolest great-uncle decided to throw the party of the century, inviting only the most talented musicians he knew from his heyday.

Let’s talk about these musicians for a second. We’re not dealing with fresh-faced pop stars here. Nope, the youngest member of this crew was pushing 60 when they recorded. But don’t let that fool you – these folks have more swagger in their arthritic pinkies than most of us could muster on our best day.

Take Compay Segundo, for instance. At 90 years young, this cigar-chomping troubadour brings a gravelly charm to every track he touches.

You can practically see him, decked out in his signature fedora, coaxing honeyed tones from his armónico (a seven-stringed guitar of his own invention, because apparently regular guitars weren’t cool enough).

Then there’s Rubén González, the pianist with fingers that must be made of liquid gold. Legend has it he hadn’t touched a piano in years before this recording.

Yet here he is, effortlessly spinning out cascades of notes that would make mere mortals weep with envy. It’s like watching a master painter come out of retirement and casually whip up a Mona Lisa over brunch.

But the real heartbreaker of the bunch? Ibrahim Ferrer. This guy was literally shining shoes to make ends meet when Cooder found him.

Now, listening to his silky smooth tenor glide over these tracks, you’ll wonder how on earth such a voice could have ever been forgotten. It’s criminal, really.

The album itself? It’s a love letter to pre-revolutionary Cuban music. Son cubano, bolero, guajira – styles that were considered passé by the 90s are given new life here.

It’s like watching your grandparents bust out dance moves you didn’t know existed, leaving you slack-jawed and scrambling to keep up.

There’s an intimacy to these recordings that’s downright intoxicating. You can almost feel the Havana heat, hear the creak of ancient wooden chairs as the musicians lean in.

It’s as if they invited you into their living room for a private jam session, and you just happened to bring along a world-class recording setup.

The success of this album is a beautiful accident, a convergence of talent and timing that you couldn’t replicate if you tried.

It sparked a global fascination with Cuban music, launched world tours, and even inspired a Wim Wenders documentary. Not bad for a bunch of “retirees,” huh?

Listening to Buena Vista Social Club is like sipping a perfectly aged rum – smooth, complex, and leaving you with a warm glow that lingers long after the last note fades.

It’s a reminder that sometimes, the best things in life come from looking backward, from dusting off forgotten treasures and giving them a chance to shine once more.

Thanks for reading!

Rob Kelly, Chief Maniac, Daily Doc