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, mi amor.
Are you having her after lunch or have you fucked her already?
Lupe, don't start!
You must think I'm an idiot! I can't work like this.
You can. Your food and your slut.
That's all you need to paint pinche murals.
Get out! Don't come home!
Don't give me a speech about the artist, 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. Yes.
Wrapped up in tortillas.
Tastes like the tenderest young pig.
Watch out, Diego! Lupe's coming back!
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?
We've found a beautiful fabric for my wedding dress today.
Fantastic. Costs a fortune.
Are these ripe? Let me see.
These 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 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 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. 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.
No, no, no! Come, come, come!
Anyway, I just don't think he's completely apolitical.
You read it after you read Marx. You read things in the wrong order.
Ridiculous. Why should it matter what order you read it in?
Because if you've already read Marx, Hegel will seem political.
But the truth is that the idea of history as a dialectic predicts Marx.
Is that gold? Real gold?
For the ceiling of the opera house.
Spinal column was broken, as were the collarbone and two ribs.
Pelvis is broken in three places.
Metal rod entered the body and came out the vagina.
Right leg has 1 1 fractures. Foot was crushed.
Will she walk again?
Let's make sure she lives first.
Is Alex alive? Frida!
Is he alright? He was hurt, but not terribly.
He was here yesterday when you were not awake.
It was too much. They're at home.
How long have I been here?
There is no money left. I will sell my equipment.
Another operation that probably won't work!
Maybe this time it will work. 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.
They're beautiful. How do you feel?
Like I've been hit by a bus.
Come on, silly. 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.
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.
My aunt and uncle are leaving for Europe.
They've invited me to come along.
That's wonderful. When would you leave?
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.
We have something for you. Matilde!
We noticed that there was no more room on your cast, so...
You look like a gringa movie star. Let me see.
These things are expensive. It's too much.
Mama, Papa, I have a surprise!
Don't worry! It's alright.
I need the ochre. Is it ready?
Almost. Now, I need it now!
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.
OK, come on up here.
No, you come down.
Look, I didn't come here for fun or to flirt.
I want you to look over my paintings professionally.
I need a straightforward opinion of my work.
You were the girl in the auditorium.
Yes. But that has nothing to do with now.
I 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 it.
I have to work to earn a living, so I can't 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.
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.
Siqueiros could be great if he'd pull his head out of his own ass.
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.
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 believe I should continue to paint?
You'll like Tina. She's a brilliant photographer, with real taste.
You know Alvarez Bravo? I know his work. It's good.
He'll want to photograph you.
Without clothes, of course. Of course.
These radicals may be dangerous, but they throw the best parties.
Ah, at last! ll mostro!
This is Frida Kahlo. She's a wonderful painter.
She wants be a wonderful painter. Don't be shy.
Nobody really thinks their own stuff is good except Diego.
Go find Siqueiros. He's been badmouthing you again.
You, come with me.
I have someone for you to meet. This is Frida Kahlo.
She came with Diego. Another pretty girl.
She's quite a talent, no?
Julio Mella, the Cuban. Tina took the last photo of him.
She was with him on the street when they gunned him down.
They're like clay in his hands. It must be that body.
No. It's the way he looks at you.
He finds beauty in all your imperfections. It's irresistible.
You'd never think it to look at him, but he's had half the women here.
I'm sorry, did you come with him?
We're just friends. I'm Frida Kahlo.
I'm a painter. A painter. No wonder.
I'm Lupe Marín. I'm his wife.
I was his wife.
Good luck to you.
Badmouth him all you want, Diego.
While we've been talking about socialism at parties for ten years, Stalin is making it work. He's achieving it.
Achieving what? His only big idea so far is to throw out all the real thinkers.
He just threw you out. Not just me.
No, not just you. Mr Trotsky. A man who plays the martyr.
But he was rejected by his whole country.
No. He ran for his life. Stalin would have had him shot.
That's his version of socialism. Kill anyone who disagrees with you.
Some people have to get shot in a revolution.
I prefer evolution. Educate the poor.
Mobilise the workers. Rise like a small tide.
Your revolution would kill half the poor to save them.
This from a communist who is getting rich painting for the government and with a patron.
The rich have good taste. The rich don't have good taste!
They pay someone to have good taste for them.
They don't hire you because you're good.
They hire you because you assuage their guilt.
They use you, Diego, and you are too vain to see it.
Whoever takes the biggest swig can dance with me.
I'd rather have an intelligent enemy than a stupid friend.
And more women! I'll make sure that happens, OK?
You may have to hold me up.
He's a good man, but he's got to be more careful.
What is this? Your studio? A benefit of being party leader.
You can arrange for the drinking to be done close to home.
Now you are officially a comrade, I can let you see it, if you like.
If you think I'm going to sleep with you just because you've taken me under your wing, you're wrong.
I was painting murals and womanising in peace when you came along.
Anyway, sex is like pissing. People take it too seriously.
In Russia, everyone was fucking like rabbits.
Well, this isn't Russia. No. Thank Christ.
I have a proposal.
We will not sleep together.
We will solemnly swear, right now, that we will be friends only.
Comrades, colleagues and friends for ever.
Did you arrange for that?
Cost me a fortune.
I have a scar.
Let me see it.
I always wanted a man with melones bigger than mine!
You know what I've always loved? What?
A girl with cojones.
These are good, Frida. I love them.
You probably painted better when you were 1 2.
I could never paint like this.
I couldn't. I'm serious.
I paint what I see.
The world outside.
You paint through here. It's wonderful.
I can see why you're so successful with women.
We'll have to get married, you know?
The thing is, I think it's quite possible that we were born for each other.
So we should marry. But you don't believe in marriage.
Of course I do. I've had two wives already.
Exactly. You can't be true to only one woman.
I'm physiologically incapable of fidelity.
Really? Yes, a doctor confirmed this.
What a convenient diagnosis.
Is fidelity that important to you?
Loyalty is important to me.
Can you be loyal? To you?
Because I love you, panzón.
What a beautiful bride you are!
Don't touch him! You think I'm going to hit him?
But he is divorced twice. He's had God knows how many children.
He's an atheist, Guillermo.
Perhaps you have forgotten this, but I am a German Jew and you married me, remember?
Yes. He's also a communist.
A communist generous enough to pay off our mortgage.
It's like the marriage of an elephant and a dove.
It's been a long time.
I don't want to talk about it. Please!
I give them six months. Six?
I give them two.
I don't believe in marriage.
No, I really don't. Let me be clear about that.
I think, at worst, it's a hostile political act, a way for small-minded men to keep women in the house, out of the way, wrapped up in the guise of tradition and conservative religious nonsense.
At best, it's a happy delusion.
Two people who truly love each other and have no idea how truly miserable they're about to make each other.
But... when two people know that, and they decide, with eyes wide open, to face each other and get married anyway, then I don't think it's conservative or delusional.
I think it's radical and courageous and very romantic.
To Diego and Frida!
You're crazy! You know that? You're crazy!
Son of a bitch!
You left these legs. Oh, Lupe...
You left these legs, Diego.
You give up these beauties for these matchsticks?
These peg-legs? Feel! Mira!
Viva la revolución!
My mother was wrong about you.
She said you were an elephant, but you're not.
Elephants are strong and courageous and they defend their mates.
You're a toad. You even look like a toad.
And you look like a dog. Dove!
Did I say "dog"? I meant "dove".
You're my little paloma.
What will people say about such a pair?
They'll have never seen a better match.
Thank you. For what?
For making a fat, old, crazy communist a happy man.
What a wonderful mole!
Lupe's special recipe. Well, you've mastered it.
I can't cook to save my life.
She brought it down for us while you were sleeping.
Brought it down?
She's in the apartment upstairs with my kids.
I let her have it till she finds a place in town.
I'm not just passing through. I'm here to stay.
Is that what you came to tell me? I'm here to stay.
So stay out of my damn kitchen!
You like mole?
So-so. Well, he lives for it.
So if you're here to stay, you'd better learn to make it.
I was so angry. He didn't come home for three days. Pass the cilantro.
So, I took two of his damned Aztec idols that he adores, you know...
...and I smashed the pieces of clay in the boiling pot of beef stock and told him it was sopa azteca.
Medea! Did he eat it? He did.
Did he like it? He loved it.
Of course, until he found out.
Then he got sick, he got furious!
It didn't make me feel any better and it definitely didn't stop him from cheating.
I want to help.
Get out! Come on!
Marie! Come on, let's go.
Time for a nap.
The other night, I was very drunk.
I know. It's alright.
Diego has never belonged to anybody. He belongs only to himself.
And that, of course, is what makes him so desirable.
He is the best of friends and the worst of husbands.
Diego will never be anyone's husband. Not really.
We'll see. You'll know it's over when he gets the next commission out of town and doesn't send for you.
Señora Rivera! Yes?
What do you think?
The tits lack gravity. Come on.
Eat your pozole while it's still hot.
It's not like you to be late for lunch, Diego.
I was at the Ministry explaining why a history of the people is an appropriate subject for the palace.
When I work, they scream about my politics.
When I don't, they scream about the delays.
It's a farce.
Hijo de puta!
That model? Yes.
It was just a fuck, that's all.
I've given more affection in a handshake.
That makes me feel so much better.
Was she good, at least? Not very.
Too bad. She had such a great ass.
When you get home, take a good bath. We're going out tonight.
Yeah, you! You know what I think of you with your stinking girls?
Why don't you get the fuck out?
This is a bar for workers, not for government whores!
That was one of Siqueiros's boys.
Siqueiros is a hero, but he's done nothing!
I put socialism on government walls.
Fascists call me a dangerous subversive and I'm the traitor to the Party!
Soon, no one will drink with you. It's not funny.
No. They'll kick you out of the Party for the palace mural.
They won't have to. I quit.
So you'll quit and keep on working. That's all that matters to you.
I've been offered a show in New York.
A solo exhibition at the Modern Museum.
It's a wonderful entrée. I could get commissions out of it.
I thought you'd be excited.
They don't care that you're a communist pig?
They can't afford to.
All the greatest painters are communist pigs.
That's wonderful news. When do you leave?
As soon as you decide to come with me.
We'll take Gringolandia by storm!
Dear Cristi, the invasion of Gringolandia has begun.
They are never going to know what hit them.
New York has Diego on fire.
What's your impression of New York, Mr Rivera?
Magnificent. There is no reason why any artist born in our two continents should go to Europe for inspiration.
It is all here, the might, the power, the energy, the sadness, the glory and youthfulness of our American lands.
I see the majesty that Diego sees.
But all that American comfort is a myth.
While the rich drink their cocktailitos, thousands are starving.
Diego is working almost constantly on his show, so I have to entertain myself.
Breaking all records, over 50,000 people have lined up outside New York's new Museum of Modern Art to see the paintings of Mexico's greatest artist, Diego Rivera, the most talked-about man this side of the Rio Grande.
Señor Diego Rivera!
The gringos are friendly enough, but the most important thing in Gringolandia is to become somebody.
The somebodies are the only ones that interest them.
I despise this pretension. It interests me not at all.
Of course, Diego loves it.
He's like a big "piñata" with enough candy for everyone.
Everything about this country inspires him.
Two loose eggs, hot cinnamon bun, two black coffees. Anything else?
Are you guys ready?
Well, I never thought I'd hear myself say this, but you were better than your husband.
You weren't upset about that, were you?
I mean, he... he said you wouldn't be.
He did, did he?
Well, you weren't the first and you won't be the last.
Why do you put up with it?
Look, Diego's how he is, and that's how I love him.
I cannot love him for what he's not.
Anyway, my sweet Gracie, I get along just fine.
Congratulations. Thank you.
It's a lot of wall. It always is.
Please, please! I have to get back to work. I'm sorry.
Are you a painter, too, Mrs Rivera?
No. Just killing time.
She's much better than me. You'll see.
What did the doctor say?
He might be able to improve the pain, but the bones would have to be reset.
The usual speech. I know it by heart.
Can your body take it?
If it can take you, it can take a little Dieguito.
No, no, Frida. He's not very optimistic.
This is not...
I can't bear to think of you in pain.
I'm used to pain.
This is not...
I'm not a good example of...
It's not a good time.
There's the Rockefeller commission. Detroit. Chicago.
All that travelling. No, it's too much.
You really want this baby, Frida?
I do. Alright.
Alright. Let's try and have this baby.
He's reciting the Communist Manifesto.
She's lost a lot of blood. I want to see her.
She needs to sleep. You should try to rest.
Frida! You should be in bed, Mrs Rivera.
The baby came out in pieces. Let's go back to bed.
It never formed properly. We can try again.
He's my son. Mrs Rivera.
I want to see him!
What did you do with him? I want to see my son!
What did you do with him? I'll take care of that.
Will you? I promise. I promise.
What the hell is this? Breakfast.
Are you trying to kill me? I need fuel to work.
Listen, panzón, you get any fatter, it'll be you in hospital next time.
I don't believe in God, but I thanked Him for keeping you safe for me.
I told Him He's got a lot of explaining to do.
From now on, I'm getting Abby Rockefeller to bring my breakfast.
Frida! You're here.
I left him.
And that was his parting gift?
I should have been there for you.
You're here now.
She'll throw a fit if I let her damn plants die.
We fought so much.
Sometimes, I would regret that I ever married her.
I would think how I hated her.
When you do enough damage to one another, you begin to think that way.
Then she gets sick and I tend her garden.
You knew my politics when you hired me.
I discussed the sketches with you and your father.
What were you expecting? Dancing girls?
No. But nor was I expecting a portrait of Lenin.
Be honest. In the sketches you showed me, it was an anonymous worker.
He transformed himself into Lenin.
No, you transformed him into Lenin because the papers attacked us.
Do you think that my family is influenced by newspaper hacks?
We'd have defended you.
I will defend you against any attack because the work is thrilling, as always.
But a portrait of Vladimir Lenin will offend many people, in particular my father.
You're putting me in an impossible position, so I'm asking you to change this one detail.
It's against my principles.
You've adjusted your principles to come to our parties and eat at our table, so I hope you will reconsider.
There's quite a crowd.
Half of them think you're the devil, half think you're a hero.
Tell me honestly what you think.
If you lie down with dogs, expect fleas.
No, seriously. This is really frightening me.
Why? I'm wondering if he's right.
Perhaps I am being foolish. Risking too much.
You can't lose. Forget artistic integrity.
You've done better ones than this and you'll do more.
Whatever happens, you have aroused people, made them passionate about their ideals.
No other painter in the world can say that.
He could walk in tomorrow and tear it down. You'd still have won.
Maybe. He doesn't have the balls.
Señor Rivera, I must ask you one last time to reconsider your position.
I will not compromise my vision.
In that case, this is your fee, paid in full, as agreed, but your services are no longer required.
It's my painting! On my wall.
It's the people's wall, you bastard!
Diego, let's go home. We have to fight these bastards.
The painting is up here. I'll do it again and use his money.
We haven't enough money to go to Chicago.
We're not going to Chicago. They cancelled the commission.
It's time to go home. What? My tail between my legs?
I am tired of these people and I'm tired of who you are around them.
See that? You want to go back to that?
Yes, I want to go back to that!
I'm working. I can see that.
I brought you lunch. The doctor says you should eat more, for once.
Lord Cholotl, Prince of Darkness.
You're the best art critic there is.
Only you see what shit this country has made of me.
Diego, you need help.
Frida, why do you and Diego have separate houses?
We are two different people, but our love makes us into one.
That's why we have the bridge. You mean the bridge is your love?
Yes. That's a good way to put it.
Then why is it such a small bridge?
He's not working. He's sick, he's depressed.
He says the people in this country are like mules, they're so stupid.
He blames me for making him come back.
Still, you are lucky to have him.
I feel so desperate every day.
Sometimes I even think of going back.
Well, you're not.
What about a job?
You could help me organise Diego's studio.
Where do I start? Don't touch anything!
Don't worry. He's a pussy cat.
Go downstairs and play! Now! Now!
Oh, my God!
My goddamn sister!
You're an animal!
You're impossible! Frida!
Get out! Get out!
I'm a beast, yes!
I'm an idiot. But it meant nothing, Frida, nothing!
Frida, talk to me!
There have been two big accidents in my life, Diego.
The trolley and you.
You are by far the worst.
Out! Out! Go!
It's a limp up three flights, I can't afford any furniture and it's cold at night.
But at least I know who's fucking who in my own house.
Diego's not giving you any money? I'd rather be poor.
She was my sister.
Not some model. My own sister.
To hell with him. To hell with him.
Find some work. Pay your own bills for a while.
I'll sell some paintings. Not enough to cover your bar bill.
Don't get me wrong. I love your paintings.
I'm just not sure you should count on them for a living.
They're tough, you know.
I mean, look at this! What the hell is this?
It was in the damn papers.
A man stabbed his wife 22 times and when the judge asked him why, he said, "But it was just a few small nips."
Who's there? The ghost of Frida Kahlo.
I remember her.
How are you? Lonely.
Only you ghosts come to visit these days.
So, how is your Diego?
I don't know why I called him that.
He was never mine, never will be. But he's fine. Painting, I guess.
Are you also painting? Yes. I want you to pose for me.
You won't have to leave the house. I want to leave the house.
Alright. We'll go somewhere different every day.
Sounds good. You've painted everyone else in the family.
Yes. A long time ago.
Remind me what I wanted then.
You wanted to be your own person.
She never liked you, you know?
She told me you would only bring me troubles.
There is something I must discuss with you.
A favour I need to ask of you.
You've got a lot of nerve to come asking for favours.
It's not for me, it's Trotsky. The Norwegians have expelled him.
No one will take him and Stalin wants him dead.
I have appealed to President Cárdenas.
They have granted him asylum here in Mexico.
I want you to welcome him with me. Let him live in your father's house.
I know it's a lot to ask, but this is a difficult transition for them.
And you, Frida...
You bring life and warmth to any place.
Anyway, Trotsky is a very great man in enormous danger and we have the opportunity to help him.
I don't understand. Such a commotion for a philosopher.
A very great man. A true revolutionary.
We're doing an important service.
I would advise you not to get involved in politics.
Politics are ruinous. Good advice. I'm sure he'll agree.
I regret I could not meet you off your boat.
Natalia and I are indebted to you for your generosity in these difficult times.
Your charming wife has made the last leg of our trip such a delight.
We are profoundly honoured to have you and your wife in our home.
Diego, they're starving. Let's feed them.
No, it's true! It's true!
I could not believe it! These people are idiots!
They scream about Hitler's aggression and then sing Stalin's praises.
Aren't they the same creature? Yes.
Not exactly. They are both monsters.
But Hitler, at least, is a madman with a vision.
He's insane! Of course.
But he has the ability to mobilise the people's minds, whereas Stalin, he is so dull!
There is the brutality, but when you get down to it, Stalin is nothing but a bureaucrat, and that is what is smothering our revolution.
They are the same only in that the insanity of power has overruled them.
Between them, they will consume the continent.
Madness! Yes. But a challenge.
Look at us. Mexican, Russian, French, in this wonderful new planet, Rivera!
I tell you this, my friends, in the experience of my lifetime, the failure and the pain have certainly outstripped the triumphs.
But this has not only not destroyed my faith, my faith in reason, in truth, in human solidarity, on the contrary, it has made it indestructible.
I see the hope of the world in you, and from my heart, I thank you.
Imagine living like that, with a price on your head, and staying so calm!
Stop it, André. I hate flattery. I don't care. It is wonderful work.
You've seen all this? I tell her all the time.
Julien Levy sold two of her paintings in New York and she sold another four to that actor, the gangster.
Edward G Robinson. For $200 apiece.
He was robbed. We haven't fooled anyone else.
My paintings mean nothing to anyone but me.
Stop! Get down!
Get back by the door! Get back!
Inside, everybody! Cover him! Hurry!
Frida, what are you doing?
I give you five seconds to get out of here.
It's alright, it's alright.
Sorry. It's my mother's sisters. What do you mean?
They were leaving icons.
They think this house is cursed and you are the Antichrist.
Think about it seriously.
You could have an exhibition in Paris.
I want a show in my own country.
Which they will give you, once you're famous.
Your paintings should be seen.
Who's coming with me? It's harder than you think.
I'll go. Are you sure?
If an old man can do it, why not a cripple?
No, no! It's OK. I don't think assassins are waiting at the top.
I'll race you.
How were you hurt?
I couldn't tell you any more.
I've been cut into, rebroken, reset so many times, I'm like a jigsaw puzzle.
All the operations have done more damage than the accident.
But the leg, the leg is the worst.
But I'm alright.
At the end of the day, we can endure much more than we think we can.
That's what I loved about your paintings. They carry that message.
You said nobody would care about them, but you're wrong.
Your paintings express what everyone feels.
That they are alone in pain.
Leon, tell me about your children.
We knew the girls had been murdered, and one of the boys.
We thought the other was still alive in the prison, but that letter came.
He was executed, too. They are all gone.
I have condemned my family as I am condemned.
You mustn't say that. But it's true.
Stalin has more power than any czar.
I am alone with few friends and no resources against the world's biggest killing machine.
So what can I do but keep on working?
Really, you cannot imagine what a joy it is for me to be here, to see all this.
It's the first time I've felt like a real person in years.
In his book, State and Revolution, Lenin purged from the genuine teaching of Karl Marx all the spurious ingredients introduced by the social democracy.
I'm picking it up from "social democracy".
This is the book I mentioned. Tell me what you think.
I'll be back in an hour.
No, no, no. It is better this way.
We'll stop disrupting your lives.
We're not going far, just around the corner.
I wish you would reconsider, if only for security.
We will be more than safe.
Many thanks, my friend.
We'll see you soon.
It makes no sense. It was for his own well-being.
He's not thinking of his well-being. He's thinking of hers.
What are you talking about?
About somebody willing to sacrifice his own pleasure rather than go on hurting the woman who loves him.
Have you lost your mind? Go to hell!
You know what the consequences could be?
He's not scared. Why are you? Of all people, why?
Because we wanted to.
You've broken my heart, Frida.
It hurts, doesn't it? But why?
It was just a fuck, like a handshake!
I told you who I was when you married me.
Yes, and I married you anyway.
And you promised to be loyal.
You've been my comrade, my fellow artist, my best friend.
But you've never been my husband. Frida...
Dear Diego, how are you, "panzón"?
Why didn't you tell me Paris was such a nightmare?
The French are the most pretentious bores.
I'd rather sit at the market in Toluca selling tortilla than listen to the prattling of the artistic bitches of Paris.
There hasn't been as much interest in the exhibition as Breton promised.
Mexican artists are nothing but an exotic curiosity here.
All in all, it's been lonely and I crave news from home.
Diego, this letter is a lie.
Paris has been good to me, but without you it means nothing.
The rage of our 1 2 years together passes through me and I'm left knowing that I love you more than my own skin, and, though you may not love me as much, you do love me a little, don't you?
If this is not true, I'll always be hopeful that it could be.
I adore you. Frida.
There are rumours that I wanted Trotsky killed.
We fought lately, it's true, but...
They may try to arrest me again. Talk to the President.
No. No, I'm going to California. California?
And, Frida, I want us to divorce.
For whom? That American actress? Jesus, Diego!
No. It will be better this way. We have done better as friends.
I haven't. You're doing well on your own.
I'm proud of you. You don't need... Enough! If you want to go, just go.
Listen, I don't particularly care for Mr Trotsky, but we can't have political refugees murdered in our country, can we?
Once more, where is your husband?
I don't have a husband.
Oh, my God!
I'm so sorry.
It was not your fault. It was mine.
I should never have put you in a room with him.
What did you do to get me out of here?
Diego. He went crazy when he heard.
He called President Cárdenas immediately.
Not much more.
How long has your foot been like this?
Who knows? Just patch me up so I can paint, please.
These are gangrened. They'll have to come off.
You're lucky it hasn't spread to your leg.
You've lost weight.
You've lost your toes.
Is that why you're here? To offer condolences?
I'm here to see how you are. How do you feel?
Tired of answering that question. Otherwise, like shit.
How are you?
I'm here to ask you to marry me.
I don't need rescuing, Diego. I do.
I've lost the toes of one foot, my back is useless, I have an infection of the kidneys, I smoke, I drink, I curse, I can't have children.
I have no money and a stack of hospital bills. Should I keep going?
It's practically a letter of recommendation.
I miss us.
They say you should never believe a limping dog or a woman's tears.
"Feet, what do I need you for if I have wings to fly?"
I want you to burn this Judas of a body.
I don't want to be buried.
I've spent enough time lying down.
I don't think I'm Frida.
I think all the Frida in me has disappeared.
Look at what's left.
Why do you stay?
You stupid girl.
You can't force me to stay. I can.
Give it to me! No, Frida!
We've been through this before. I'm going, damn it! Give me my leg!
Doctor, please help me! What's going on?
I told her to stay in bed. She demanded we call you.
I'm going to my exhibition.
I've waited for a show in my own country my whole life.
If the bronchitis gets worse, it'll turn into pneumonia.
You must not leave this bed. I'll bring you back all the gossip.
This skinny kid with these eyebrows was shouting up, "I want to show you my paintings!"
But of course, she made me come down to her.
I did, and I've never stopped looking.
But I want to speak about Frida not as her husband, but as an artist, an admirer.
Her work is acid and tender.
Hard as steel and fine as a butterfly's wing.
Lovable as a smile, cruel as the bitterness of life.
I don't believe...
...that ever before has a woman put such agonised poetry on canvas.
Shut up, panzón!Who died?
Where is the music?
See, Doctor? I followed your orders. I didn't leave my bed.
If you let me have this tequila, I promise not to drink at my funeral.
It's a deal. To Frida!
Are you alright? Lie down with me.
25 years together, mi Dieguito.
It's not for two more weeks.
1 7 days.