Friday, November 08, 2002


Christina and I went to see the movie Frida last night. I expected to hear more about her naturally curly hair. What? Oh, wait, that's Frieda, from peanuts...sorry for the confusion.

Frida Kahlo was a Mexican artist, and the movie chronicles her tumultuous life, including her marriage to Diego Garcia, an island in the Indian Ocean. Wait, no, Diego Rivera, the muralist. was an enjoyable movie; it painted (no pun intended) an interesting picture of her life, and made me want to find out more. Christina found an interesting article in the Washington Monthly that explores Kahlo's life in depth. I think it's good that the article was written by someone who hadn't seen the movie (last year), but it helps sort out differences between the movie and reality, for one thing.

It's a very rich movie that raises in my mind questions about the personal versus the universal in art. Christina and I had an interesting conversation about that on the way home last night. But, hey, this format doesn't lend itself too well to pensiveness, so here are some random thoughts.

I was totally unconvinced by Geoffrey Rush as Trotsky. I didn't believe the accent, I didn't believe the age (apparently only 10 years too young), and I didn't believe the beard. In general, I thought the acting was top-notch.

The Landmark Bethesda Row is a really cool theater. In general, when you want to see an "independent" film, you have to go to some cramped and dingy theater, unless you're lucky enough to catch one in an old-style movie house. But this place is a multi-screen stadium seating modern theater that specializes in independent movies. And it's only half an hour or so from home, so I hope to see a lot more movies there.

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