The enigmatic artist Frida Kahlo, renowned for her captivating self-portraits and embodiment of Mexican cultural heritage, continues to captivate audiences around the globe. Revered as one of the seminal figures of 20th-century art, Kahlo’s life has been portrayed through various lenses, notably in the widely recognized film “Frida” (2002) with Salma Hayek. Time and again, art lovers and historians seek to shed light on how a subdued Mexican girl boldly lived beyond her physical confines, painting with vibrant abandonment, while gracing a world of immense personal suffering. The latest homage to Kahlo’s profound impact is Carla Gutierrez’s documentary film “Frida,” revealing the artist’s ferocity, love for freedom, defiance of convention, and undaunted pursuit of artistic and personal liberation.
This intimate documentary distinguishes itself by delving into Kahlo’s own words—a narrative mosaic of personal writings, letters, her illustrated diary, and interviews. The potency of Kahlo’s expressions is magnetic, pulling us deep into her complex emotional tapestry. For instance, her voice, tender yet filled with fiery desire, recalls her relationship with Alejandro, her first beau, in heartrending detail, unveiling Kahlo not just as an artist but a literary artisan in her own right. “My Alex. My beloved Alex,” she muses, divulging her longing for both intellectual and sensual connection. This privileged insight into Kahlo’s internal dialogue is a testament to a missed literary prowess.
Complementing Gutierrez’s vision is Fernanda Echevarría’s emotive narration, channeled through first-person testimonies which seamlessly stitch together critical periods of Kahlo’s life. The catastrophic bus accident that forever marked her existence, her tumultuous yet profound relationship with fellow painter Diego Rivera, and her disaffection with capitalism are but a few of the pivotal moments explored. References from Rivera and Bertram Wolfe, among others, add multispectral views to an otherwise private narrative. This intentional focus on Kahlo’s personal revelations deflects any air of intrusion, engendering a sense of balance throughout the visual journey.
Striking archival material and reimagined animated versions of Kahlo’s works add visual depth to her fervent declarations and existential reflections. We learn of her wistfulness, her unapologetic love affairs, her sartorial self-confidence, and her astute commentary on the politics of her time. There is an evocative recall of feeling each heartbeat of falling in love, and an introspection on her fiery battles with patriarchal constraints, laid bare by her own resolute voice.
Kahlo’s relationship with color, much like the rest of her life, is rife with profound duality. We witness an evolution from the joy she associated with hues like yellow (“Sun and happiness”), green (“good warm light”), and the “old blood of prickly pear” red, to the visceral reinterpretation of the same colors through the veil of suffering. The transformation into depicting yellow with disease, red with blood, and black as the existential void, paints an aching portrait of her life’s latter days. Yet even in her deepest torment, her resilience shines—her compulsion to paint is undiminished, cementing the idea that art is not just an aspect of Kahlo’s life, but rather its very essence.
Victor Hernández Stumpfhauser’s captivating musical score carries the narrative with grace, while the cutting-edge digital restoration of archival footage brings to life an era long past. Such elements coalesce to create an immersive cinematic experience that comes exceptionally close to personal immersion within Kahlo’s complex world.
Months after the final credits roll, viewers are left with an intimate resonance of Kahlo’s voice, her words a lasting echo. “Frida” is available for viewers to discover and rediscover on Prime Video, not just as a documentary film but as a poignant time capsule that delicately and powerfully encapsulates the spirit of Frida Kahlo.
