Central Americans are Making Movies for Everyone
Those who know me know I’m always searching for great art — art that doesn’t break the bank, that celebrates Central America as a region of cultured, intelligent, and hardworking people. Art that welcomes everyone, no matter where they come from, and reaffirms Central American identity as something valuable.
That’s why, during my visit to Tegucigalpa in December, I found myself seated at the Redondel de los Artesanos watching the documentary La Singla. I hadn’t expected the evening to be as transformative as it turned out to be. People came and went, watching this Spanish film about a flamenco dancer from the 1960s. It was the kind of chaos typical of public spaces in Honduras, but this time, it felt safe, familiar, filled with curiosity and art.
This was thanks to Tercer Cine, a social project co-founded by three Hondurans: Laura Bermúdez, a filmmaker who also serves as the project’s executive director; Juan Pedro Agurcia, a film curator and the artistic director; and Josie Guerrero, who co-founded the initiative and manages its operations. They launched Tercer Cine three years ago with the mission of bringing films to parks, plazas, and other public spaces across Honduras, screening them free of charge. It’s a bold act of defiance against a system that often tells us art is only for those who can afford it. In a region with deep economic inequality like Central America, this excludes far too many people.
This concept resonates deeply with me. I’ve spent six years living in New York, surrounded by music, cinema, theaters, and museums. I know what it feels like to have art within reach, to feel it belongs to you. Growing up in Honduras, that wasn’t the case. Going to the movies was a luxury. For most people in Central America, it still is. Public spaces have also become places many avoid out of fear or distrust. So, sitting at that redondel, surrounded by my Honduran friends, all of us experiencing the film in the same moments, felt like a small revolution.
Central America doesn’t have a robust film industry compared to our neighbors to the north or south. The infrastructure is relatively new, and funding is nearly nonexistent. But what we do have are stories — grand, entertaining, heartbreaking, joyful, and, above all, important ones. And we have creatives and organizers like Laura, Josie, and Juan Pedro, who are building new ways to share those stories, whether through their own films or by creating alternative spaces to share the work of others.
Last year, I attended the New York premiere of With This Light (Con Esta Luz), a documentary showcasing Honduran talent both in front of and behind the camera. Co-directed by Laura and produced by Jessica Sarowitz, the film tells the inspiring story of Sister María Rosa Leggol, a nun who helped lift over 87,000 Honduran children out of poverty. And earlier in 2023, I had a similarly profound experience at the premiere of Problemista at SXSW, an A24 film written, directed, co-produced, and starring Julio Torres. In the movie, Julio portrays an aspiring toy designer from El Salvador navigating visa challenges while chasing his dream in the United States. Both events were deeply moving — not just because of the compelling stories they told, but because they were rare moments where I attended a screening in which Central Americans were celebrated as heroes, philanthropists, visionaries, and artists.
The importance of this work isn’t just cultural — it’s profoundly political. Central America is a region where inequality is enormous. Access to something as simple as a film is a privilege many cannot afford. In this context, screening movies for free in public spaces becomes a radical act of inclusion — a way of saying: You matter. The presence and experience of Central Americans matter.
Tim Brinkhof, in his article The Development of Central American Film, notes that Central American cinema has seen slow but steady growth in recent years. He highlights the enormous challenges filmmakers face, from limited funding to something even more disheartening yet critical to acknowledge: indifference. To give you an idea, according to Brinkhof, only 200 original films and documentaries were produced in Central America between 2000 and 2017. Yet Central American cinema persists, because filmmakers in the region understand the power of stories to create empathy and connection.
In Honduras, where narratives of violence and poverty often dominate, projects like Tercer Cine offer an alternative. They remind us that we deserve to gather, to reclaim public spaces as safe and communal.
Art doesn’t belong only in galleries or behind velvet curtains. It belongs to all of us — in plazas, parks, and streets where life unfolds. In Central America, it’s showing us that we are capable of so much more than we’ve historically been told.
A version of this article was originally published in Spanish by Contracorriente. Read that version here.
