Now I know that Frida Kahlo had an accident, was involved with Diego Rivera and Trotski, and had strange eyebrows. I also know that Selma Hayak is a babe, and I know a lot about her breasts. Among the things I don't know: what Kahlo's relation to women was; how she learned to paint; what painters she admired; what her relation to the 'revolution' was; what the relation was between suffering and art. I am left to imagine how this absolutely perfect body on which the camera dotes so obsessively could possibly contain the pain it is supposed to harbor (every forty minutes or so the director reminds us of this). But then, I get a really cool lesbian-dancing scene, which I suppose was more important than any of this trivial stuff. And did I mention the boobs?
