Y tu Luna también: Frida (2002, R)

Unfortunately, Diego Luna has been in a number of films prominently involving problematic people…and “problematic” is doing a lot of heavy lifting there. I’m not sure what I’m going to do about them with these reviews. It really bums me out that he was in a Woody Allen movie in 2019, and I can’t see myself watching A Rainy Day in New York, but I know that I won’t have a consistent stance on this. I debated over whether I wanted to watch Frida—apart from the mere fact that Harvey Weinstein produced it, we’ve specifically learned how he tormented Salma Hayek over the course of making it. But at the same time, I knew how much Hayek believed in this film and how badly she wanted to bring it to the public. In the end, I decided I wanted to see it at least once.

From the day they meet, Frida Kahlo’s life is entwined with Diego Rivera. Although she’s a young student and he’s already a famous painter, they catch one another’s eye and find their way to a tempestuous relationship. Amid career triumphs and stumbles on both sides, affairs, arguments, and Frida’s ongoing issues with chronic pain, the two of them create art for the ages.

On the positive side, this film is directed by Julie Taymor, of The-Lion-King-on-Broadway fame, and she brings her sense of theatrical flourish to the proceedings. As such, what could’ve been a run-of-the-mill biopic is peppered with artistic touches that cut to the emotion of the story and give the film a stronger visual flair. And in a film about a revolutionary artist, isn’t that what you want?

I’ll admit that I don’t know a ton about Frida Kahlo, and I can’t speak to how much of the film is accurate beyond the absolute basics. I enjoy watching Frida’s story unfold: the pain that gives her such a profound perspective on her body, the roller coaster of her relationship with Diego, and the political and artistic circles they move in. However, watching the film, I couldn’t shake the feeling that it wasn’t as squarely centered on Frida as I wanted it to be. Diego looms very large in the film—understandable, since he was such a major part of Frida’s life, but it often feels like her story is being told in service of his, rather than the other way around. And in a movie called Frida, that’s not ideal.

I couldn’t keep thoughts of Weinstein from intruding on my viewing at times, and that aspect is something that makes me wonder about his influence. Beyond his horrible treatment of Hayek and the prurient scenes he shoehorned in purely for his own gratification, did he have sway that gave Frida less of a voice in her own biopic? That’s just one more fallout effect of these sexual predators in Hollywood—it colors everything they’ve worked on.

Hayek is excellent in the role, fierce and enigmatic, passionate and wretched, ingenious and sly. I wish this filming experience could have been less traumatic for her, and I wish I could’ve seen even more of her Frida. Alfred Molina does well as the talented but temperamental Diego Rivera, although seeing Spanish actors cast as Latino characters always gives me pause (Antonio Banderas also appears in a small role.) Additionally, the film features Geoffrey Rush (another problematic figure) as Leon Trotsky and a brief appearance from Roger Rees, who I’ll always appreciate for A Man of No Importance.

When it comes to Diego Luna, there’s not much to say. His first scene involves his character kissing Frida Kahlo and he’s not playing Diego Rivera, so that gives you a hint of his overall relevance to the story. He plays Alex, a lover of Frida’s when they’re both students. He’s mostly there to be young and sexy, which he accomplishes well, and to not be as there as Frida needs him to be after the crippling injuries she endures in a bus crash.

In essence, they’re young and happy until they’re not, and then he disappears from the film, never to be seen again. Luna gets the job done, but there isn’t a lot for him to work with here.

Recommend?

In General – Iffy. It’s pretty well made, but for me, the real-life controversies made it hard for me to really settle in and take it at face value.

Diego Luna – Not a must. This is a small role and, again, in light of the larger outside issues with the film, not necessarily worth it.

Warnings

Sexual content, violence, language, drinking/smoking, thematic elements, and involvement from accused sexual predators.

A Little TLC(w): The Duke of Mount Deer: Season 1, Episode 7 (1984)

An important episode for the larger plot, although it’s one with less Tony Leung Chiu-wai. A little light is shed of some of the more mysterious elements of the plot today, which helps me piece some things together.

Hoi Goong-goong is still intent on getting the sutra, and Wai Siu-bo secretly follows his master as he goes to confront the person who has it: the empress dowager. Their confrontation draws out some of the history between them and adds context for Hoi Goong-goong’s actions so far in the story.

A good third of the episode is devoted to a flashback. It involves the current emperor’s father (the dowager’s husband,) a royal concubine, and a sinister plot. I enjoy seeing two characters who’ve been somewhat mysterious going toe to toe and hashing out some of the baggage between them, and I like getting a different side of Hoi Goong-goong in the flashbacks.

It’s also fun to see two martial arts adepts going at it. While the martial arts on this show, unsurprisingly, aren’t up to par with the better wuxia films I’ve seen, the action scenes are still entertaining, and I especially like them here, where the opponents are so well-matched that their fight is equal parts synchronized dance and kinetic stalemate. Every blow meets its equal and opposite block. Wai Siu-bo isn’t much of a fighter, so it’s nice to get these scenes with other characters.

However, I do miss Wai Siu-bo when he’s offscreen for so long. Luckily, he makes up for it in the second half of the episode where Leung is much more prominent, first in the Hoi Goong-goong/empress dowager plot, then dealing with his own predicament. I’ve talked before about Siu-bo’s talent for talking his way out of dangerous situations (only to usually land himself in a completely different, adjacent danger,) and this episode calls for him to dig deep. There’s a scene here where he’s probably the most frightened we’ve ever seen from him. Siu-bo isn’t exactly the stuff heroes are made of, and we’ve seen him yell, hide, and run away plenty of times. Here, though, he can’t run, and he can’t really show his fear even as his whole being radiates with it. He’s just barely holding it together, but because, fool that he is, he’s still clever, he has enough presence of mind to make the lies he needs to keep himself alive.

In the second major plot of the episode, Leung splits his time between interacting with another character (Yui-chor, one of the dowager’s handmaids that he’s sweet on but also kind of using) and scenes where he’s talking mainly to himself. In both cases, it comes off well. He’s sweetly awkward with Yui-chor, mumbling so bashfully that it’s a wonder she ever figures out that he wants to kiss her. And on his own, he’s as sulky as a teenager as he struggles to deal with a major scrape that he can’t talk his way out of. Leung’s performance is both entertaining and endearing, and I continue to have a great time with this show.

Relationship Spotlight: Jane Foster & Thor (Thor)

*Spoilers for Love and Thunder.*

Back when I first got into the MCU and was writing Marvelous Wednesdays posts, I wrote about both Thor and Jane, but I never got around to their relationship. In the first two Thor movies, I mean, their relationship was nice, it was amusing. But there were so many other parts of the MCU to write about, and they didn’t grab me as a pair.

Cut to Love and Thunder. Not only are Jane and Thor great, separately and together, in the main plot of that movie, but there’s also a short flashback montage of their relationship that does more to inform their story as a couple than the entirety of the first two Thor movies. I love just seeing Thor and Jane going out on dates or staying in to watch a movie, and the film does a wonderful job of showing the soft, gradual way their relationship fell apart. As per Korg’s narration, both of them begin to dwell increasingly on the fact that Thor is nigh-immortal and Jane is not. Rather than watch that lead to a dramatic “I can’t do this anymore!” confrontation, we instead see how both throw themselves into their work—each trying to save the world in their own way—to avoid those painful thoughts, and as that work takes priority, the two of them drift until the day Thor comes home to find a note that Jane has left. It’s a comic-book story involving a millennia-old alien with superpowers, but it’s also such a quiet, human story where both make mistakes that hurt themselves as much as they hurt the other person. Masterfully done—fans can argue about the film all that they want, but honestly, Love and Thunder is worth it just for that montage.

Getting into Thor and Jane’s reunion after she’s granted powers through wielding Mjölnir, the pairing just fires on all cylinders. The way both try to play it cool despite how thunderstruck (Thor pun) they are to see each other is cute. I love their interactions over Jane working on her hero skills—mainly her shaky catchphrase game, hehe. It’s great to watch them fight together, how they back each other up and impress one another in the field. Thor’s clumsy admission that he wants to “feel shitty” about her, believing that the pain of heartbreak/loss is worth it to love her and have her love, is sweet.

Then Jane drops the bombshell on him: she has stage four breast cancer. She turned to Mjölnir in the hope that its power could heal her, but while the hammer grants her strength, vitality, and power while she’s using it, the effort is sapping her body and limiting her ability to fight the cancer. The first time they got together, they knew their relationship had an expiration date, but now, that date is coming up a lot faster than either of them expected.

This is a heavy trial for both of them. Moreso for Jane, obviously, since she’s the one who’s sick. And while Thor begs her to stop using Mjölnir and save what strength she has left, Jane makes the choice that she’d rather go out fighting, especially fighting alongside and protecting the man she loves. Meanwhile, Thor, who’s been dealt a lot of personal losses in recent years and has quailed at the idea of enduring any more, sadly accepts Jane’s choice and cherishes what brief time they have left together.

In the final fight, when Gorr is on the brink of achieving his goal of destroying the gods, it is Thor’s love for Jane that finally moves the bitter, vengeful man’s heart. Facing his end, Thor spends what might be his last moments holding a dying Jane in his arms, and Gorr finds the strength to choose love over revenge. It sounds corny when I write it out, and I suppose it is a little, but I don’t care. It’s gorgeous.

One more thing I want to mention. I saw a comment that Love and Thunder is Natalie Portman’s best Thor movie because it’s the first to treat her as more than Thor’s love interest. What’s really interesting is that, in large part by giving Jane her own story and agency, the movie also gives us the best Thor/Jane relationship we’ve ever had. Romances are better when both characters are explored in complex ways and given weight in the story—who knew?