Frida

 And so to the opera. Earlier in the summer I went to see 'In Dreams', a musical using songs by or associated with Roy Orbison. It was very, very good and I'm not entirely sure why I never wrote about it at the time. It was set in New Mexico and many of the characters were of Mexican origin; inevitably the 'Day of the Dead' loomed large. The reason I mention it now is that I have been to see the first production in the UK of 'Frida', the opera by Robert Rodriguez portraying the life of the painter Frida Kahlo and, sure enough...

photo credit Rhian Hughes

I don't know how accurate the retelling of her story was. I have always taken issue with the widespread assumption that she was overlooked as a painter because she was a woman; given that her husband, Diego Rivera, was a far superior artist (*) it is at least possible that the only reason for her being so well known is actually because she's a woman. Based on the version told in the opera the thing we should most admire her for is the overcoming of innumerable physical disabilities and illnesses. In any event, what happens here - and I've no idea whether it happened in real life - is that her success comes about because Rivera sells several of her paintings to Edward G. Robinson rather than selling his own. Robinson is one of a number of eclectic characters who pop up, including Henry Ford, Nelson D. Rockefeller and of course the Trotskys. The latter give rise to a slightly odd design choice; when Natalia Trotsky first appears she is wearing a fur hat, presumably to underline just how Russian she is rather than it being strictly necessary under the Mexican sun. 

I enjoyed it all immensely. Any show that contains marching soldaderas carrying banners saying 'Tierra y Libertad' and singing 'Long live Zapata' is going to be OK with me. Add on to that a bus crashing into a tram and the assassination of Trotsky and you have all the makings of a good night out.

* In your bloggist's opinion obviously.