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Frida
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êê 1/2
Julie Taymor, bar none, is the most gifted visual director working in movies today. With a thirty year directing career on stage that culminated with the landmark The Lion King on Broadway, she's got only two films under belt, but they are expressive in the most innovative and original sense, filled with wonder and pure, unbridled imagination.
Her new biopic Frida, based on the tumultuous life of legendary Mexican painter Frida Kahlo (Salma Hayek), is a frustrating film that reaches for greatness and however flawed, sporadically achieves it on the basis of Taymor's ability to convey Frida's most abstract mental states into visual works of art that I'd swear rival Kahlo's paintings in terms of their impressiveness in this film. On a narrative level, the film is a different story.
We begin with dizzying speed in 1925, when a sixteen-year-old Frida is an idealistic student who is paralyzed in a terrifying bus accident, so confidently staged by Taymor that the terror becomes poetic, epic in nature. She's confined to bed for months, thought permanently paralyzed, and it's here that she begins to hone her painting skills and self-portraits. It's also here that we find the origins of the great physical pain and addiction that would shadow the rest of her life.
So far…so good. The film moves so fast in its opening stretches, has so much energy, and Hayek appears so buoyant, you can't help but be won over by the sheer anticipation of where Taymor, Hayek and company are taking you.
But soon enough, Frida is married to internationally famous muralist Diego Rivera (an excellent Alfred Molina), creating more paintings and exploring her bi-sexuality with numerous partners, including Italian photographer Tina Modotti (Ashley Judd). The rest of the film is spent on the tumultuous marriage, Frida's physical setbacks and the creation of art by both Frida and Diego, as various historical figures wander in and out of their lives with varying degrees of impact.
All of these directions should give Hayek a virtuoso stage on which to perform, but there's something about her performance that fails to click. I never got the sense in the film that Hayek was playing anything except an extension of herself, and that even though she certainly got all the details right with Frida's appearance, there was very little going on inside the character, and not much psychological depth. I believe that in part, a script that focuses broadly on Diego as well, and makes her a reactionary character for much of the film has sabotaged Hayek. It hurts me to say that I didn't completely buy her in the role, for all her commitment and famous struggles to bring Frida to the screen.
If only Frida were deeper or richer, or maybe contained some strong monologues about her life, condition, work or whatever. Instead, there's a whirlwind of events that rush by, covering decades, a lot of bickering between Frida and Diego, some wonderful art direction and top-notch production values. There's absolutely nothing in this film to rival the emotional nakedness shared by Ed Harris and Marcia Gay Harden in the Pollack, another story of two artists clinging together through physical setbacks, emotional neuroses and the creation of great art.
There's a stellar cast lined up in this film, including Geoffrey Rush as Leon Trotsky, Edward Norton as Nelson Rockefeller, Valeria Golino as Rivera's put upon former wife. But like Hayek, they don't really embody their characters so much as "play" them, and the effect is sometimes vacuous, and feels more like a who's who casting coup, than a rich myriad of real-life figures who came together for brief, bohemian moments of inspiration and history.
Taymor manages some major visual feats by filling her screen with some of Frida's best-known paintings, then magically animating them until we are watching Hayek and Molina actually living the moments that later became the paintings. The end result is awe-inspiring.
I spoke with Taymor at the screening of the film, and praised her uncanny visual sense and told her that I found more heart in this film than in Titus, her previous, wildly lurid adaptation of Shakespeare's Titus Andronicus. On the whole, I'd say Titus is definitely the better film. But I think audiences will connect more with Frida, and despite its flaws, find heart and inspiration in Frida's struggles and defiant life.
I also asked her of her relationship with Hayek, and how they navigated their working relationship, and what were the keys to Hayek's emotional (and often physical) vulnerability. A deep bond of trust, which she explained at great length, and mutual respect, combined with a unique feminism, were at the center of their personal relationship, and enabled them to get what they did up on the screen.
I only wish they had gotten a bit more focused. The film, though beautifully realized, shot, directed, scored and creatively mounted, is sadly lacking much heart or passion that Frida and Diego obviously shared and exists in their work.
Frida is more than worth seeing, but my chief reservation is that I never felt emotionally connected to her life or struggles, and ended up watching from a curious distance, in full respect of the treatment but never quite engaged.
120 Minutes
Rated R
Sexuality, Nudity, Profanity
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