Frida

I was fortunate to attend a sneak preview of this film the other day in a theatre. What a great experience. The movie is narrated from Frida's notebooks, and you really feel like you know her after seeing this remarkable film.

It utilizes her paintings in an innovative way. Adding animation to these scenes really brings her story to life. I knew she was in a tragic accident when she was young, but I had no idea just how much it affected her life. And it gives you a clear picture of what a self-centered jerk Diego Rivera was.

But you also have a great deal of admiration for Frida as an artist, and also as a Bohemian personality. What a life!

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As "Frida" (2024 release; 84 min.) opens, we are introduced to Frida Kahlo, a painter from Mexico from the early-to-mid 1900s. The documentary reminds us that she left a large legacy of writings including an illustrated diary and letters, and that all commentary we hear are Frida's own words. We then go back to "1910" to Frida's earliest years.... At this point we are 10 minutes into the movie.

Couple of comments: this movie is a labor of love from editor Carla Guttierez, making her directorial debut. With the help of several animators, Kahlo's life, works and times are presented on a grand and colorful scale. I was generally aware of who Frida Kahlo was, but didn't know many of the personal details that are brought forward in the documentary, including the devastating bus crash that she was involved in (in 1925), which had significant physical consequences the rest of her life. Part of the charm of this documentary is also looking back at what life was like in the 1920's-30's-40's. Check out the footage of when Friday and her husband (the renowned Mexican painter Diego Rivera) visit New York and Detroit in the early 1930's. Not to be picky, but couldn't Guttierez come up with a better film title than the generic "Frida"? That aside, I found this documentary thoroughly enjoyable (and, dare I say, educational) from start to finish.

"Frida" premiered at this year's Sundance film festival, to immediate critical acclaim. The movie is currently rated 905 Certified Fresh on Rotten Tomatoes, and for good reason. The movie started streaming on Amazon Prime Video 2 weeks ago, and I caught up with it last night. If you have any interest in arts, I'd readily suggest you check this out and draw your own conclusion.

A current documentary airing on Prime about the famed Mexican painter Frida Kahlo. Using her own words from her writings, observations & even her own artwork to trace her beginnings as a young girl who fell into art, mostly doing portraits of herself, becoming the sole young woman in her art school attendance. Never gaining much traction w/her work & the public, she did find comradeship w/Diego Rivera, her vaulted fellow countryman who even put her in one of his murals. Seeing this newfound attention got her her own show but soon enough the lack of sales & the pretentiousness of the clientele made her long for home coupled w/the fact that her marriage to Rivera was on the rocks, made the decision an easy one especially since she was becoming gender fluid w/her bed partners while also going through numerous spine operations (due to a railcar accident she endured when she was younger). Never completely losing her will to recreate, she continued working even while confined to a wheelchair, to her final days where now she's become the iconoclast she may've secretly already knew she'd become since a biopic starring Salma Hayek (who got an Oscar nomination) was made 2 decades ago & she's becoming a visual icon (a nice use of her likeness appeared in Pixar's Coco) forever equating her art & homeland as intertwined.

Creating this kind of documentary must have been difficult. The years we are talking about are 1907 - 1954 so although there are some original film from those years it is not enough to make a full-length movie, however the directors here choose to almost verbatim read off Frida's diary which is surprisingly reach and spans over many years. Also photos and archives of the actual art and people that are involved. The outcome is mesmerizing and although I'm not a big fan of these kind of documentaries it was interesting enough for a 90 minutes watch.

This is not a kind of a movie that would be a block-buster hit. It is not a person that everyone knows, her life, although very bohemian and flamboyant is still confined to art lovers. And it is a documentary, not showing any actors at all, only real people voices or voice-over. Having said that, I did watch Frida Kahlo movie from 2002 in which she is portrayed by Salma Hayek, and I think this documentary is actually better, in a sense that you are getting what really happened and not a mere Holywoodic mirror of it.

One criticism I do have for this movie is the animation of Kahlo's paintings, which from art perspective is unique and refreshing, but for me sometimes I couldn't tell what was a real painting and what was an artist or CGI alteration of it. I wish they would show the actual art as is, unaltered.

People who decide to watch this movie should be aware of the nudity imagery that this documentary contain, but if you are in learning mode, history and art, you'll find a beautifully made movie and a truly deep life lesson. This movie is absolutely a must for art students and people that have a thirst for knowledge.

Exact score: 77 / 100.

Carla Gutierrez, in her directorial debut, takes on the ambitious task of delving into the multifaceted life of Frida Kahlo in "Frida," a documentary that aims to capture the essence of the artist through her own writings, letters, and interviews. The concept of telling Frida's story in her own voice is, on paper, a powerful idea. After all, who better to narrate the highs and lows of her life-her pain, love, and political views-than the woman behind the iconic eyebrows and self-portraits? But, much like the attempts to animate her paintings in the film, the execution doesn't always live up to the depth of the original work.

The film starts strong, immersing us in Frida's world with rare footage and glimpses of her studio life. These black-and-white scenes, sometimes subtly colorized, beautifully capture the duality of her existence: a modest space for such a grand creative mind. However, as the documentary tries to balance her personal story, political struggles, and physical challenges with an analysis of her work, the weight of stylistic choices begins to drag it down.

A central misstep lies in the decision to animate Frida's paintings. Her works, already brimming with symbolism, texture, and intrinsic movement, don't need dripping tears or fluttering 3D leaves to come alive. These additions feel artificial, like an attempt to translate something already visceral for a digital audience. It's akin to adding unnecessary filters to a perfect photograph-rather than enhancing, it diminishes authenticity. This approach recalls the animated Van Gogh exhibits that have flooded museums and social media, where the visual spectacle often overshadows the original emotional impact.

That said, Gutierrez's love for Frida shines through, and the film has its standout moments. The extensive use of archival materials and the decision to preserve Frida's writings in their original Spanish add an essential layer of authenticity often missing in biographical documentaries. The nuances of her language-her wordplay, irony, and expressions-bring the woman behind the myth to life, offering a glimpse into her complex personality. These choices strike a necessary balance between reverence and humanization, presenting Frida not just as an icon but as a flawed, passionate, and deeply human figure.

However, there's a sense that the film tries too hard to appeal to both younger audiences and longtime fans of the artist. The inclusion of sound effects, like the flick of a cigarette being lit or recreated radio headlines, feels like filler in moments where silence might have been more powerful. These instances underestimate the audience's ability to connect with the story without constant sensory prompts.

On the narrative front, the structure is serviceable but lacks a wow factor. The chronological approach-from Frida's revolutionary youth to the physical suffering caused by the accident that shaped her life, and her tumultuous relationships with Diego Rivera and others-is effective yet predictable. Even so, Gutierrez succeeds in emphasizing Frida's independence in a male-dominated era and her bold political visions. There's something profoundly inspiring about her refusal to accept the surrealist label and her insistence on painting the raw reality she lived rather than disconnected dreams.

Overall, "Frida" is an admirable but uneven effort. It captures fragments of Frida Kahlo's soul but often wraps them in packaging that doesn't do justice to her authenticity. For those who know and love her work, the film serves as a reminder of her enduring impact but might frustrate with its attempts to modernize something that never needed translation. Frida, after all, has always spoken for herself-with brushes, colors, and words that resonate just as powerfully today.