Frida

Careful, guys. This corpse is still breathing.

Try to get me there in one piece.

- Hello, Professor. - Hello, Frida.

Diego Rivera is back in the auditorium.

With a naked woman.

Why is this whore still here?

Tell me.

Tell me, mi amor.

Are you planning to have her after lunch or have you fucked her already?

Lupe, please, don't start!

You don't think I don't know what's going on? You must think I'm an idiot!

- I can't work like this. - Yes, you can.

Your food and your slut.

That's all you need to paint your pinche murals.

- Get out! - And don't come home!

Don't come home and give me one of your speeches

about the artist, and the people, and your fucking revolution!

You only care about yourself, you piece of shit!

So much for lunch.

Although, I could eat you, perhaps.

I have eaten female flesh before.

Yeah!

Wrapped up in tortillas.

Tastes like the tenderest young pig.

Watch out, Diego! Lupe's coming back!

Fucking punks!

Come on, you little anarchists!

Come and light another of your firecrackers if you dare!

Just keeping you honest, panzón.

Panzón?

Do I look fat to you?

Frida, we found the most beautiful fabric for my wedding dress today.

- Fantastic. - Costs a fortune.

- Mama? - Yes?

- Are these ripe? - They should be. Let me see.

Yes, they are fine. These need a day or two.

Maybe you'll get married, too, one day.

- One can only hope. - Lunch is almost ready.

Go get the artist.

I love this one. It's beautiful.

I like it, too.

They're busy with the wedding. Cristina is so excited about her dress.

Good. Everyone should be excited when they get married.

I suppose. If that's what you want.

What do you want?

I don't know. I just don't think that marriage is for everyone.

You need a good reason to do it. Just like with anything else.

What do you think matters most for a good marriage?

A short memory.

- Why did you get married, Papa? - I can't remember.

So I could have you.

- Concentrate, everybody. - Wait, where is Frida?

Adriana, go tell your sister to hurry up.

I always wanted a son.

Matilde, everyone, eyes to the camera, and...

Come on, or we'll miss our bus.

- Frida! - How much is the calaca?

Frida, come on!

- The bus! - We'll take the next one.

No, no, no! Come, come, come!

Watch out!

Anyway, I just don't think he's completely apolitical. That's all.

But that's because you read it after you read Marx.

- You always read things in the wrong order. - That's ridiculous!

Why should it matter what order you read it in?

Because if you have already read Marx, then, of course, Hegel is gonna seem political.

But the truth is that the idea of history as a dialectic, it just predicts Marx.

- Is that gold? Real gold? - Which is not the same as affirming this specifically.

For the ceiling of the opera house.

The spinal column was broken, as were the collarbone and two ribs.

Pelvis is broken in three places.

A metal rod entered the right side of the body and came out the vagina.

The right leg has 11 fractures. And the foot was crushed.

Will she ever walk again?

Let's make sure she lives first.

- Is Alex alive? - Frida!

- Is he all right? - He was hurt, but not terribly.

He was here yesterday when you were not awake.

And Mama?

It was too much, Fridoucha. They're at home.

How long have I been here?

Three weeks.

Almost there.

Gently, now.

- But there is nothing left for spend. - I will sell some of my equipment.

- Another operation that probably won't work! - No, listen!

- Maybe this time it will work. - And then, how will you make money?

I'll paint portraits again.

Admit it, Guillermo. She'll never walk again.

Go on in, Alex. She's waiting for you.

Hello, ugly!

- They're beautiful. - How do you feel?

Like I've been hit by a bus.

Come on, silly. Come, come. Come and sit with me.

Look... It's my only good angle at the moment.

No, it's not.

I like you this way. You're easier to keep up with.

Spengler, because you love him.

Schopenhauer, because it's good for you.

Oh, Alex! You know I adore you.

I've missed you so much.

I told the doctor the handrail had taken my virginity.

I'm sure he believed you.

You know, when I get out of this cast,

I'm going to show you a couple of things I still remember.

Okay.

What?

My aunt and uncle are leaving for Europe.

And they've invited me to come along.

But that's wonderful. When would you leave?

Soon.

Next week.

How long will you be going?

We're going for two months.

Afterwards, I might stay on at the Sorbonne.

I will be staying on.

Did I tell you that I'm going to walk again?

- Yes. - Do you believe it?

Of course I do.

You'd better! Because you're going to miss it.

I want you to leave before I finish this butterfly.

How are you feeling?

How am I feeling?

I can't even remember what it felt like before the pain.

- Isn't that horrible? - Dr. Farill is coming on Monday.

He's bringing a back specialist, Dr Cervantes.

I feel like some rich girl with a new suitor every week.

But all my suitors have turned into doctors.

I'm not a rich girl, Papa.

How come you never ask me about my plans any more?

You used to always say...

"Tell me your plans, Frida!"

What are your plans, Frida?

Right now, I'm a burden.

But I hope to be a self-sufficient cripple one day.

After that, I don't know.

You are not a burden.

My love.

See, here.

We have something for you. Matilde! Come.

We noticed that there was no more room left on your cast, so...

- Now you look like a gringa movie star. - Let me see.

- These things are expensive. - It's too much money.

Mama, Papa, I have a surprise!

Careful, now!

Don't worry! Don't worry! It's all right.

I need the ochre.

- Is it ready? - Almost.

- No, now. I need it now. - Okay.

Señor Rivera!

- Diego! - Who are you? What do you want?

I have something important to discuss with you.

- I'm working. - I'll wait.

I don't have time to chat with schoolgirls.

I'm not a schoolgirl, panzón.

Okay, come on up here.

No, you come down.

What?

Look, I didn't come here for fun or to flirt.

I've done some paintings, which I want you to look over professionally.

And I need an absolutely straightforward opinion of my work.

You were that girl in the auditorium.

Yes, I was. But that has nothing to do with now.

- I just want your serious opinion. - What do you care about my opinion?

If you're a real painter, you paint, because you can't live without painting.

You paint or you die, okay?

I have to work to earn a living,

so I don't have time to fool around just for vanity.

If I'm not good enough, I have to do something else to help my parents.

Leave the best one. Go home and paint another one.

If this one's any good, I'll come and look at that one on my day off.

Orozco is a true artist. He's tremendous.

And Siqueiros could be great, if he'd pull his head out of his own ass and look around.

Comrade Rivera. What a nice surprise.

What if I told you that easel painting like yours is finished?

That it's headed for the trash like other elitist, bourgeois pastimes?

I'd say, "Cut the propaganda."

This is very good work.

- You have real talent. - Oh, come on!

I'm not looking for your compliments.

- I want a serious critique. - But I'm being sincere.

These are very original paintings.

- None of the usual tricks. - But that's not specific!

You have to trust a true compliment as much as a critique.

Yeah, well, some people have told me not to trust what you say.

They say if a girl asks your opinion and she's not a complete fright,

you'll gush all over her.

I need you to tell me one thing honestly.

Do you actualy believe that I should continue to paint?

Yes.

Yes.

You'll like Tina. She's a brilliant photographer.

One of the few with real taste. You know Alvarez Bravo?

I know his work. It's good.

I'll introduce you to him. He'll want to photograph you.

- Without clothes, of course. - Of course.

Another thing about these radicals.

They're a little dangerous, but they definitely throw the best parties.

- Ah, at last! ll mostro! - Tina!

This is Frida Kahlo. She's a wonderful painter.