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.

A Revolution in Art

I have been to the Royal Academy's exhibition of Mexican art from the period 1910-1940. The title obviously alludes to the 20th century's first great revolution, which convulsed the country between 1911 and 1920, but also to the fact that Mexico played an important part in the development of art globally during the period covered. The upheavals in the country fed into the art which in turn played a key part in the social changes taking place as it sought to reflect the real Mexico of indigenous peoples and geographic variety. All of this attracted overseas visitors: artists, photographers, writers and the like who saw what was going on and took it back with them when they returned home.

The exhibition, which it must be said is quite small, contains artists of whom you will have heard - Diego Riviera, Frida Kahlo, Cartier Bresson, Robert Capa - plus many that you won't have.

The relatively limited size of the exhibition prevents me from recommending a long journey to see it, and in any event it closes in two weeks. However, if one is doing a Burlington Bertie along Piccadilly (having risen at ten thirty, natch), then it would be well worth popping in.

Mystery

It is so unclear what the latest re-enactors at the Royal Armouries are meant to be that I have decided not to go and find out in case it's too big a disappointment. They look like they are supposed to be playing for the Wanderers against the Royal Engineers in the 1872 FA cup final, or possibly they are extras from Chariots of Fire. Having said that, one of them is wearing a sort of medieval quilted jacket and another is carrying something that looks like an oar but is only about five feet long.

On the cultural front, I have found some room for a bit of middlebrow entertainment and have been to see Ayckbourn's Sugar Daddies. The narrative line was unconvincing and didn't go anywhere, but with Ayckbourn one is guaranteed at least a dozen or so big laughs and so it proved.

And finally in this mixed bag of postings I offer a belated and perhaps oblique farewell to Hugo Chavez.