NYICFF Review: Hola, Frida is a lovely portrait of an artist as a young girl

Frida Kahlo is no stranger to the big screen. The beloved, iconic artist was famously depicted by Salma Hayek in Julie Taymor's biopic Frida (it remains a shameful blind spot for me). Last year, a well-received documentary about Kahlo's life and career, also called Frida, debuted on Prime, and made it to the Oscar shortlist, though it didn't garner a nomination.

This year's edition of the New York International Children's Film Festival (NYICFF) opens with a new take on Kahlo that stands out for a couple reasons. André Kadi and Karine Vézina's Hola, Frida (which I find written many different ways on the internet -- I'm sticking with a comma, and no exclamation mark) is an animated portrait of the artist that focuses mostly on her childhood. It's a wonderful way to introduce kids to her, and gives viewers of all ages a new perspective on what made Frida Kahlo the woman and the artist she was.

The film starts with Frida in her later years, still painting, using a wheelchair, and spending time with her animal friends like a monkey named Coco Loco. When said monkey steals a paintbrush and goes inside, Frida finds some old photographs, which sends her on a bit of a memory journey, and the bulk of the film takes place in this childhood flashback. It got me thinking about how to understand an artist, you have to understand the person. Hola, Frida takes that a bit further, positing that to understand the person, you have to understand the child. And to understand the child, you have to look ever further back: family history, ancestral homelands, cultural context. Young Frida learns about her family's Zapoteca roots, her mother's youth in Oaxaca, and more as she navigates a childhood marked by struggle, illness, and other difficulties.

I really love this approach to depicting Frida. This movie is very family-friendly, despite dealing with some heavy subject matter. One of the main events it hones in on is Frida's childhood battle with poliomyelitis, a virus that left her with a skinny leg and wearing a splint, which became a point of ridicule used by bullies at school. Showing Frida using a wheelchair in her later years and wearing a splint in her younger years is a great bit of disability visibility, teaching kids that people who have different disabilities are still capable of doing great things, pursuing their dreams, and being loved and supported by friends and family. That these lessons are coming from a story of an actual person, and a great artist at that, makes the point even sharper and more poignant. Meeting Frida as a kid also is the kind of move that allows kids to insert themselves into the story, and imagine themselves accomplishing great things, too, which is always welcomed.

The film's story-telling is spot-on. Frida's world is populated with memorable characters, colorful locales, and cool fantastical elements that help to express her inner world. The animation reminds me of PBS Kids programming (which I mean as the highest compliment -- they have a lot of great-looking shows). Everything is bright and colorful, and the characters have bold designs with big, expressive eyes and lots of nice details in their costuming and styling. Frida occasionally enters into a sort of dream world where she meets another Frida, one who seems a little more confident in herself. She helps to protect the real-world Frida as she faces her various obstacles, including the ever-looming La Catrina, the specter of death. By the end of the movie, I kind of felt like Frida was low-key starring in a Final Destination movie, the way death is always watching over her, waiting for the moment to finally claim her for herself. It's pretty heavy stuff, but depicted with enough of a light touch that I don't think there's any risk of scarring younger viewers.

Hola, Frida also does a nice job of weaving in some feminist themes. Frida wants to become a doctor, and is appalled when she hears about the struggle of Mexico's first female doctor. Misogyny (rightfully) seems ridiculous and unfair to her, and when she faces it in various scenarios, it's satisfying to see her bristle, and to also have others rally around her (including her mom, maybe the most complexly depicted character in the film).

While this movie is pretty focused on Frida's childhood, it does a smart time-skip toward the end, where it provides context for her later years, particularly meeting Diego Rivera and committing herself to being a painter. At one point in the movie, Frida tells her younger sister that the best part of stories is that you choose how to tell them, and Hola, Frida makes a lot of great choices in how to tell this story. I imagine it'll hit just right for fans of Kahlo's life and work, and also for the uninitiated.

Also, I would be remiss not to mention Chiquita, a stray dog that Frida is particularly fond of, who helps and comforts her throughout the movie. Chiquita is so stinking cute, and is, as described by Frida, basically a little clown in a dog costume. I'm always here for a great canine character.

Hola, Frida opens NYICFF at 6:00pm on Friday, February 28. It plays again on Saturday, March 15 at 11:15am.