If You Always Do What You've Always Done...Then You'll Always Get What You Always Got

Friday 6 July 2012

Movie #18 - Frida

I watched Frida last week, over 2 nights, and very much enjoyed it.  It would have been very annoying for anyone watching this with me -  I take notes when watching movies now, and so a 2 hour movie can take substantially longer.  It has taken a bit to digest Frida though, a process I suspect will continue for some time.  Right now, it's still unfocused in my head so I'm hoping writing this will help it settle.  I wonder if watching this movie is totally different for non-creative types?  Well, it must be, as everyone sees things differently depending on their situation.  It would be interesting to be someone else though to see this movie from a different perspective. 

I like seeing things.  I've noticed that if there is a lot of dialogue, I notice less visually.  (Incidentally, I just watched the episode of NCIS which includes the line from my sub-heading; I've also been reading a Jasper Fforde book which includes descriptions of the RealWorld from a BookWorld perspective - the narrator is amazed at how much detail is in the backgrounds.  I was on high alert for backgrounds while watching the show).  While there was a lot to absorb aurally, the visuals were so well done in Frida.  Which is a good thing for a movie about artists.  The way in which Frida's artwork was incorporated into the movie was seamless and so clever, and the camera work - mwah.  Actually, the first thing I noticed was the setting.  One of my favourite authors is Isabel Allende, and the setting, particularly of the parents' house in Mexico City, was just like looking into my mental image of many of Allende's books. 

There were four things about the messages in the movie that stood out for me.  1 - relationships.  2 - why we do art.  3 - life isn't perfect, it's how we live it that matters.  4 - you can achieve as much as you think you can achieve.

1.  Seeing the way marriage is approached - from a Mexican, Communist, artistic, early 20th century viewpoint - was interesting.  Especially for someone who is artistic, single, and who plays at weddings.  Frequently.  I know that relationships can work - my parents are still together after more than 4 decades, and I have other couples in my circle who look like they'll be together forever.  But I'm single, and I have many couples in my circle who have not remained together forever.  And, playing at weddings, you can get very cynical.  Aside from the soppy vows and princess syndrome, if cracks are evident to outsiders on the wedding day, it doesn't bode well for a long and happy life together.  Not to mention the statistical likelihood of divorce.  There were a few lines in this movie that caused me to pause and write down the quote.  The first was at Frida and Diego's wedding, from a Communist Party guest: "Marriage is, at worst, a hostile political act, a way for small-minded men to keep women in the house and out of the way, wrapped in the guise of tradition and conservative religious nonsense.  At best, it is a happy delusion, these two people who truly love each other and have no idea how miserable they are about to make each other".  In this current climate, it's probably not quite so much the first option - although it's not out of the question - and I would hope it's not really too much the latter.  But I guess it depends on your choice of partner.

Frida entered into this marriage fully aware of her new husband's character.  She knew he was a womaniser.  Early on, she asked her father "What do you think is important for a good marriage?" "A short memory" is his reply.  But, after one of many 'indiscretions', which happen too often to be slipped under the rug of a short memory, she says she cannot love him for what he is not.  And, she loves him (sometimes, in that very passionate borderline love-hate way).  Women, of course, see love and fidelity differently.  We want to find a Leon Trotsky (maybe not with the affair-with-the-artist bit, but nobody's perfect), "someone who's willing to sacrifice a little of his own pleasure instead of hurting the woman who loves him".  The fact that Diego comes back to her late in life and is true to the end made me cry, to be honest.  How lovely - but how frustrating!  Maybe creative men can only be true when they've had all their (extensive) running-around time.  And what that means for me... it can be a little disheartening.  But, moving on.  I'm going to jump to numbers 3 and 4 here.

3.  Even though Frida had a challenging life - a traumatic accident, a life of physical pain, a philandering husband, being an artist - she really lived.  She really loved.  (4) - She set her own goals, based on her own ideas for her life.  Doctors telling her she would never walk again did not stop her from walking again.  Society saying young women should marry and reproduce did not stop her dancing a tango with another woman (and more...), marrying late and not having any children (except for one who died at birth).  She lived her life and endured much more than she thought she could.  There were some things that seem to be universal, though.  Infidelity hurts.  The way to a man's heart is through his stomach.  The kitchen is the best place to get to know someone, and cooking is a great way to bond, even if it's with your husband's ex-wife who is living upstairs and still cooking him breakfast.  Our hopes and expectations are two different things: we can hope to marry someone who will be faithful, but if we expect it we will be disappointed.

2 - I could really identify with Frida's drive for art.  My most productive practice sessions, and inspiring or passionate performances, all come from emotion.  As someone who has a generally ordinary life, this can be a bit of a drag.  But that need to turn to a creative outlet - a bit like the 'pensieve' that Dumbledore uses in Harry Potter - is such a huge part of life, a natural reaction.  How do non-creative types deal with heartbreak???  And not just as a way to deal with what life throws at you.  "If you're a real painter you'll paint because you can't live without painting, you'll paint til you die".  Of course, this also comes with the existential angst with which I am well-acquainted - "My little paintings can't mean anything to anyone but me".  On one level, there is little purpose in what we do - at least, in terms of furthering humanity (we're not curing cancer or anything) - but there is something to be said for creative expression which connects us and makes us feel.

Writing this has helped the digestive process, as hoped.  Accept others for who they are, with all their blessings and faults; live your own life the best way you can; live as much as you can; do what you are driven to do and you will have lived your life well; happiness and fulfillment are not the same thing.  And, perhaps, make sure you can cook.

Nearly forgot the photo for today:

Winter sunlight hitting the last pear and lemon in the bowl.

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