Frida Kahlo’s paintings don’t just come to life in the documentary Frida—they pulsate. That’s fitting for an artist whose self-portraits seemed to emerge from her pores, depicting in surrealist strokes her desires (for famed painter Diego Rivera and many, many others) and disasters (from the bus crash that would leave her with debilitating injuries to a miscarriage early in her marriage). Director Carla Gutierrez (an editor on the Ruth Bader Ginsburg doc RBG, making her directing debut here) leads a team of animators in activating the details of Kahlo’s works, such as Self Portrait with Thorn Necklace and Hummingbird, so that leaves ripple and insects flutter in the background. It’s a somewhat similar approach director Julie Taymor took, albeit via live-action, in the 2002 biopic with Salma Hayek as Kahlo, while also recalling the mixture of live-action and animation in the Van Gogh documentary Loving Vincent. In addition to its animated paintings, Frida also boasts a rich array of archival photos and film footage—including scenes of Kahlo sitting with Rivera on the scaffolding as he paints the Detroit Industry Murals. All of this is accompanied by Kahlo’s own words, taken from her diary, letters, and essays. Fernanda Echevarria del Rivero gives a galvanizing vocal performance in the narration, capturing Kahlo’s anger, passion, and arrogance with an array of whispers, sighs, and spitting swears. (Kahlo’s disdain for the elite art crowds of Paris and New York City is palpable.) Little context beyond that narration is provided, a wise choice that provides the sort of self-imposed restrictions that a good biopic—fictional or documentary—needs.
(3/13/2024)
