FRIDA KAHLO: VIVA LA VIDA

Frida Kahlo, as her personification on stage tells us, is the artist who gave birth to herself.

It takes a little while but Kate Bookalil gives birth to Frida in a wonderfully theatrical way in FRIDA KAHLO: VIVA LA VIDA by Humberto Robles, adapted from the Spanish Gael Le Cornec and Luis Benkard.

Literally drawing her character, she starts to paint her face, not in cosmetic prettifying, but in establishing facial recognition of the artist, applying pencil and brush to create the famous mono brow and moustache.

The narrative plays out on the Day of the Dead, and skeletons and skulls adorn the set. Under her skirts and under her skin, her own skeleton bears the scars of an excruciating wound. Her virginity was taken by a bizarre impaling by a streetcar without desire.

We hear of her emotional scars as well, inflicted mostly by Diego Rivera, whom she married, divorced and remarried – he who seduced her sister, but held a stranglehold on her heart.

And we hear of her opinions on Mexico, France, The United States, the art world and a little about her politics. A sketch rather than a portrait.

Its not all tell and no show, however, with some imaginative illustrating of her inner turmoil, obsession with her own anatomy, and, by extension, mortality, by the use of a naive self portrait having limbs in various states of disintegration or repair being pinned to it.

Some of the directorial choices by Anna Jahjah are challenging to audience sight lines, having the character sit in the bleachers, as it were, is a frustrating fracture of the fourth wall. It leaves the central space bare for far too long. A mistake when you have such an iconic figure as Frida presented by such an energetic performer as Ms. Bookalil.