Perhaps it’s because of vestigial bitterness over McCarthyism, but Hollywood has produced appallingly few anti-communist films. By some estimates, 100 million people have died at the hands of communist governments – by now it might seem that there are a few stories to be told about the dangers of an ideology other than fascism.

At the moment, Steven Soderbergh and Benicio Del Toro are currently working on the second Che Guevara biopic in just the past few years, so it seems doubtful that many in Hollywood are troubled by romanticizing a man who was directly responsible for the execution of thousands of innocents.

The apex of absurdity came last year when Carlos Santana performed the theme from the other recent Che flick, “The Motorcyle Diaries,” at the Academy Awards. He performed the song wearing a crucifix over one of the ubiquitous Che T-shirts, an act that prompted Cuban jazz great Paquito D’Rivera to write a letter to El Nuevo Herald castigating Mr. Santana, translated in a New Republic article last year: “One of those Cubans [at La Cabana, a prison in Cuba run by Guevara] was my cousin Bebo, who was imprisoned there precisely for being a Christian. He recounts to me with infinite bitterness how he could hear from his cell in the early hours of dawn the executions, without trial or process of law, of the many who died shouting, ‘Long live Christ the King!'”

Given this context, it’s hugely gratifying to see a film such as “The Lost City” that deals honestly with the full horrors of the Cuban revolution. Sadly, actor Andy Garcia’s fine directorial debut, which rightfully frames the Cuban descent into communism as a tragedy, may disappear in a climate where Hollywood’s cultural commissars are trying to make a hero out of Che Guevara. This is despite some expert staging and an impeccable pedigree.

The screenplay was written by Guillermo Cabrera Infante, one of the finer writers Latin America has produced in the last 50 years, a renown novelist and critic who died last year. Cabrera Infante was a Cuban and one-time Castro supporter who became disenchanted and ended up in exile. Curiously, Cabrera Infante’s only other film credit is the screenplay for the 1971 cult car chase movie “Vanishing Point.” Indeed, that film has some interesting things to say about end of the American frontier and the death of traditionally American notions of personal freedom, a theme no doubt informed by Cabrera Infante’s encounter with communism.

As for Mr. Garcia, though he’s made a career of playing Italians in films such as “The Godfather: Part III,” and “The Untouchables,” he was actually born in Havana in 1956. Though Mr. Garcia’s family was affluent, they fled Castro to Miami Beach in 1961, arriving in America nearly penniless and working menial jobs until they got back on their feet again.

It’s likely no coincidence, then, that “The Lost City” centers on Mr. Garcia’s portrayal of Fico, a wealthy Havana nightclub owner and his family, dealing with the Cuban revolution. Fico tries to remain apolitical and keep his wits about him while two of his brothers meet tragic ends at the expense of their revolutionary ideals. Meanwhile, the country sinks deeper into chaos and Fico is drawn into a romance with his brother’s widow. Eventually, he has no choice but to flee Havana for New York.

The story is positively epic, trying to shoehorn in the family drama, the revolutionary backdrop, the complicated romance, and a number of stunning musical set pieces – not to mention Bill Murray’s inexplicable American writer and Dustin Hoffman’s scenery-chewing appearance as the notorious Meyer Lansky. It’s clear that Mr. Garcia has bitten off more than he can chew. At almost 2 1/2 hours long, it would be negligent not to mention that the film is an editing disaster.

But oh, what a beautiful mess it is. Whatever talent Mr. Garcia lacks as an editor he has more than made up for as a director. Cuban sensuality practically drips off the screen; each scene is beautifully framed and shot, and the music is sublime. It’s hard to a remember a recent film in which the music has so competently set the mood and underlined montages, and in which the musical numbers are so skillfully woven in and out of the dramatic action. In fact, the film’s seemingly haphazard compilation is deceptive. Piecing together the story is such a chore that the deft bit of poetry and heartrending musical lament for Cuba at the end comes as a bombshell. It is so moving, and comes so unexpectedly, that you are left to wonder how on earth the movie managed to make such a powerful impact, in spite of its deep flaws.

“The Lost City” will likely take some heat for telling the story of a “peasant” revolution by swirling around an affluent family. But in a weird way that’s part of the film’s genius. Just as the ACLU stays vigilant by defending the rights of the Ku Klux Klan, any honest anti-communist film inevitably must include some defense of the rich. That much becomes obvious when Fico, one of the most popular nightclub owners in Havana, ends up as a dish washer in New York City. He’s willing to trade his status and riches for freedom and opportunity.

The film also makes no bones about the horrors of Batista. However, in the eyes of many its cardinal sin will be its rightful assertion that Castro is far worse.The final tragic effect of “The Lost City” is the realization that the audience that would be most affected by it won’t be permitted to see it. In an era where films frequently go out of their way to be politically relevant, “The Lost City” does so with striking effortlessness.