A Coastal Town Transformed
Each April, the usually quiet coastal town of Gibara, in Cuba’s eastern province of Holguín, is reborn with energy when it hosts the International Low Budget Film Festival, known locally as the Festival de Cine Pobre. Founded in 2003 by filmmaker Humberto Solás, the festival was created as a stage for films made with little money but abundant creativity.
Unlike the glamorous festivals of Sundance or Cannes, Gibara carries no pretense. Its focus is pure—cinema as an act of art, defiance, and honesty. This absence of commercial weight makes it one of Cuba’s most authentic cultural gatherings.
Cinema Without Ornament
The festival showcases hundreds of audiovisual works from Cuba and around the world, with participation from nearly 30 countries. Documentaries, shorts, feature films, and experimental pieces are all given space, provided they share the spirit of cine pobre: telling stories with limited means but strong ideas.
It is here that many young Cuban filmmakers, empowered by Decree-Law 373 on Independent Audiovisual Creators, find their first audiences. For them, Gibara is not just a festival—it is a launchpad, a rare chance for visibility in a country where cinema remains largely state-owned and funding scarce.
The Town Embraces the Festival
When the festival begins, the entire community comes alive. Streets that are usually windswept and quiet fill with brass bands, motorcyclists, carnival groups, and crowds welcoming filmmakers and guests. Residents line the avenues cheering, proud that their town hosts an international celebration of art.
Screenings are joined by concerts, theater, fashion shows, exhibitions of photography, painting, and sculpture, as well as youth workshops. For five days, Gibara feels less like a town and more like a living cultural experiment. “It’s a blessing for the people,” one local said, and you can feel it in the air.
Independent Spirit, Global Reach
Though rooted in Cuba, Gibara’s festival is deeply international. It has awarded films from Turkey, Spain, Argentina, Mexico, Uruguay, Morocco, and beyond. The jury’s choices often reflect the festival’s mission: to support cinema that is socially committed, tender yet truthful, minimalist yet powerful.
Collateral awards, like the FICC Don Quixote Prize and those from the Cuban Film Press Association, further highlight the festival’s role as a space where cinema is judged not by its budget, but by its heart.
My Cigars in Gibara
In a town like Gibara, the evenings carry a special quiet once the screenings end. For me, that is when the cigar becomes part of the ritual. One year, after watching a moving Cuban documentary, I chose a Ramon Allones Specially Selected. Its bold, earthy flavor seemed to echo the raw honesty of the stories told on screen—imperfect, unpolished, but unforgettable.
Another night, by the seaside after a long day of films and discussions, I lit a Hoyo de Monterrey Epicure No. 2. Smooth, creamy, and light, it matched the calm of the ocean breeze as the town slowly settled after its celebrations. In Gibara, the cigar does not compete with the cinema—it completes it, giving you a moment to sit with what you’ve seen, letting the smoke rise like memory itself.
If you plan to attend, stop at our cigar shop before your journey east. The right cigar will frame your experience, carrying the soul of Cuba’s traditions into each reflection.
Travel and Experience
Reaching Gibara is a journey—14 hours by bus from Havana—but the road itself is part of the experience. Travelers, filmmakers, and locals bond along the way, forming friendships that last beyond the festival. Through trusted partners, we can arrange travel agreements, guided tours, and cultural itineraries, ensuring your journey includes not only the screenings but also Cuba’s rich cultural heritage: its music, art, and cigars.
An Invitation to Cinema Without Luxury
The Gibara Low Budget Film Festival is not about glamour—it is about truth. It is about seeing that cinema does not need money to move you, that stories told with honesty can travel further than any blockbuster.
So whether you join us this April or plan for the next edition, I invite you to walk Gibara’s streets, sit in its modest theaters, and share in its celebration of independent cinema. Watch films that may never reach the mainstream, but will stay with you long after the credits roll.
And when the night comes, step outside, light your cigar, and let the sea breeze carry the smoke. For in Gibara, cinema and life are one—and both are best enjoyed simply, honestly, and together.
