Archeology of Memory: Villa Grimaldi

by Jessica Mosby
– USA –

At the tender age of 19, Claudio Duran opened the door of his Santiago home in the middle of the night to find military secret police ready to arrest him. The officers took him to Villa Grimaldi, ironically known as the Palace of Laughter – a Chilean prison used by General Augusto Pinochet after the 1973 military coup. At that moment, he says, “my life changed.” Duran (now known as Quique Cruz) chronicles his imprisonment and the art that helped him reconcile his painful past in the new documentary Archeology of Memory: Villa Grimaldi. The film debuted at the 2008 Mill Valley Film Festival.

Duran, along with over 5,000 other artists, musicians, and dissidents, was imprisoned and tortured at Villa Grimaldi. After being exiled to Canada, he changed his name to Quique Cruz to protect his family still living in Chile from further persecution. It was not until Pinochet was arrested in London in 1998 that Cruz even felt safe to discuss his past and return to Chile.

While working menial jobs and hiding his true identity, he kept playing music because “through music you can keep on dreaming.” He later settled in Northern California where he finished college and pursued a Ph.D. at Stanford University. It was then that Cruz decided to come to terms with the identity and country he had long tried to forget through art. The result is a series of work – a musical suite, book, documentary film, and a multimedia installation – all titled Archeology of Memory: Villa Grimaldi.

The 88-minute documentary does not recount the past in chronological order, it is not a history lesson of Cruz’s life. Archeology of Memory: Villa Grimaldi, which Cruz directed and produced with filmmaker Marilyn Mulford, is a surreal reliving of the last 30 years. From the Chilean cultural renaissance of the early 1970s to Pinochet’s military dictatorship, Cruz offers a dream-like remembrance of the world as seen through his eyes.

Nothing is literally reenacted. Cruz describes his torture while fictionalized flashbacks and symbolic sequences accompany his words. The images are interwoven with footage of Cruz’s Latin-inspired concerts at the La Peña Cultural Center in Berkeley, California. The evocative music that he wrote and performed as part of the project expresses the pain of his exile in an incredibly affecting way. Without being overly dramatic, it is as if by playing music, Cruz is finally able to heal from the past he long concealed.

Sadly, Cruz – now a bearded, middle-aged man – is hardly alone in his hardship. The film follows Cruz as he visits Chile to interview his mother and reconnect with friends who were also imprisoned for supporting Chilean President Salvador Allende. Fellow artists and musicians recount their own torture for crimes that were never clear; one friend was sent to prison for making “subversive birdcages” as part of an art installation.

For all of the haunting images on screen and the horrific descriptions of Pinochet’s secret police, Cruz’s interview with his elderly mother is truly heartbreaking. The two sit on the porch of her rural home as she relives the past, not knowing if her son was alive or dead, having to burn all of the family’s books so as not to be perceived as “left-wing.” After decades apart, there is a sense of tranquility between Cruz and his mother, but according to her, “we’ll never really recover.”

Cruz’s declaration that “I came to this earth to play” rings true. Archeology of Memory: Villa Grimaldi builds to two spellbinding musical performances that elevate the documentary from an interesting personal account to a chilling piece of cinema. While visiting the former site of Villa Grimaldi in 2001, Cruz starts an impromptu percussion jam session, drumming away like his life depends on it. Then, during a triumphant 2006 homecoming, Cruz performs the Archeology of Memory: Villa Grimaldi musical set to an audience that includes Chilean President Michelle Bachelet, who was also imprisoned at Villa Grimaldi.

As the audience travels through Cruz’s memory, the healing process – not the torture – is what ultimately resonates. The film is a testimony about the power of art. Cruz has turned his painful past into something beautiful.

About the Author
Jessica Mosby is a writer and critic living in San Francisco, California. In the rare moments when she’s not traveling across the United States for work, Jessica enjoys listening to public radio, buying organic food at local farmers markets, trolling junk stores, and collecting owl-themed tchotchke.