Warning: watching Frida may lead to an intense desire for tango lessons and large bottles of tequila. Frida is Frida Kahlo, the legendary Mexican artist and socialist who was born around 1910. She was married to the equally larger than life muralist Diego Rivera. She had a tempestuous relationship with Diego, an art career that took her all over the world, and a notorious social life before her early death in 1954.

Frida, patron saint of hirsute drag queens, has evolved in the popular imagination to such a mythic level that any movie about her is destined for intense scrutiny and critique. She is supremely iconic for both Latina/os and queers because of her ability to honor and challenge the traditions of her culture while espousing new ideas and concepts in political philosophy, sexuality, and art. In a way she has bridged these two conflicting cultures post-mortem.

The biographic film Frida opens with the rich colors of an interior landscape. Frida (Salma Hayek) is set up in her bed like one of her paintings, and the self-reflective theme of her art is symbolized through the mirror set over the bed. The Oscar-nominated Hayek plays both the younger and older Frida, and she does a fantastic job as both the idealistic, intellectual youngster and the mature, world-weary artist. We are introduced to Diego Rivera (Alfred Molina), her future husband and lecherous but charming older artist, before her life-changing accident at age eighteen. She is involved in a major accident that involves a metal rod piercing her back and breaking her pelvis. She has multiple injuries from this accident and ends up in a body cast for a long time with bouts of chronic pain for the rest of her life. But this accident ignites her artistic career, which is still celebrated today. The film depicts this contradiction of fate not just through her life, but with the beautiful and tragic surroundings of Mexico that it is set in.

Early on in the film, Frida asserts her difference and sexual liberation by having sex with her boyfriend in her parents’ home and posing for a family portrait in a full suit, dressed as a man. This is in 1920s Mexico--a conservative Catholic country, so it is unexpected to see her father (Roger Rees) dote on her shocking behavior, even going so far as to joke about her cross-dressing with “I always wanted a son.”

The film touches on the major points of her life, but it primarily focuses on her relationship with Diego. This is a little disappointing since she is so well known as a bisexual woman. The only scenes that show her with women are set in a very masculine erotic frame. The first involves winning a drinking game in order to dance with the stunning hostess and photographer, Tina Modotti (Ashley Judd), at a party. Frida subverts the macho posturing by taking the biggest drink uninvited, then performing a sensual tango with “the prize.” This scene is sexy because it is two beautiful women dancing together, but it also seems very superficial.

The second film moment capturing Frida’s intimate interaction with a woman is her revenge fuck with a Parisienne singer in order to to get even with Diego. Both scenes are thrown into the movie for titillation as opposed to taking a meaningful look at her relationships with women outside of the marriage to Diego. This is disappointing for a biographic film of her life since it minimizes her non-heterosexual relationships.

I also found it a little odd and disconcerting that the film is in English, but the actors all have pronounced Mexican/Spanish accents. I’m not sure why the director/screenwriters didn’t just make the film in Spanish, but it makes things easier for the non-Spanish speakers.

Despite these gaps, this is still a fantastic movie. It shows Frida as a strong woman who spent her life dealing with physical pain, and was miraculously not only able to walk and dance again after massive injury, but transform that pain into art that is so popular it is still mass-produced and immediately recognizable over 50 years later. The film skillfully weaves in many of the elements of magical realism that are the trademarks of her art, via the use of puppetry and collage-like cinematography. These moments come up unexpectedly and suggest what the creative process might have been like for Frida.

The soundtrack is fantastic, the actors are easy on the eyes, and the period costumes and sets made me want to run off to Oaxaca. This is a lush, gorgeous movie that, in spite of its flaws, is well worth a view.

Get Frida on DVD