| . | 04/20/2008
A Portrait of Diego: The Revolutionary Gaze
By: Ted Faraone
Rivera working on the re-creation of the portrait of Dolores Del Rio. Photo by Manuel Álvarez Bravo.
Tribeca Film Festival Review
“A Portrait of Diego: The Revolutionary Gaze”
Two stars out of five. $4.00 ticket on a scale of $0 to $10.50.
A CAMEL OF A DOCUMENTARY
A camel is a horse designed by committee. That’s the problem with the 2007 Mexican documentary, “A Portrait of Diego: The Revolutionary Gaze.” Written, produced and directed by heirs of two of the 20th century’s pioneers in the visual arts, painter Diego Rivera; and cinematographer Gabriel Figueroa, it features much input from the heiress of a third, photographer Manuel Alvarez Bravo. The 80 minute film, billed as the completion of a planned 1949 film about Rivera by Figueroa, Alvarez Bravo, and Rivera, instead attempts to pay homage to all three. As such, it does justice to none.
“A Portrait of Diego” is a portrait only insofar as it has color footage, never exhibited, of Rivera at work. The 16mm Kodachrome has held up remarkably well after almost 60 years.
Where “A Portrait of Diego” does succeed is in putting the work of the three luminaries into the context of Mexico at mid-century, a nation defined by traditional Indian culture, the nationalism of the revolution, and the state socialism of the PRI (Institutional Revolutionary Party, an oxymoron if ever there was one), the ruling party for most of the 20th century. Mexico was at a crossroads. President Alemán was about to open it to foreign investment. Rivera’s style of painting, which combined Socialist Realism, Expressionism, and Mexican folk art, was considered passé. The sophistication and glamour of the Mexican upper class, evident from period newsreel footage, far surpassed anything New York had to offer.
As a work of heirs who have unparalleled access to the artistic output of their ancestors, not to mention the ancestors themselves, pic benefits from some unique insights. Notable are the recollections of Rivera’s daughter, Ruth, a lawyer. “Being your daughter is a nuisance,” she recalls telling him. Rivera almost died laughing. Pic’s best feature is its tangents: A re-creation in which Rivera in 1949 pretends to paint a portrait of film star Dolores Del Rio (which he had finished two years earlier) alone is worth the price of admission. Del Rio’s poses for the silent film camera are priceless. Notable is Rivera’s comment that if Spanish painter Velasquez were alive at the time, he’d have been a photographer. Much is made of the artistic influence the trio had on each other. Also valuable is the then and now footage of Anahuacalli, the three-story studio cum museum cum mausoleum that Rivera designed for himself and wife Frida Kahlo.
Rivera was a complicated guy. He was a womanizer, who drove his wife crazy. He holds a unique position in history, playing host to Leon Trotsky in 1940 when Stalin had him killed by icepick. None of that comes across in “A Portrait of Diego.” Some insights are given into his work, notably his prolific use of calalillies and fondness for indigenous Mexicans, but his trajectory as an artist is given short shrift.
Figueroa’s career spanned some 64 years – 1932 to 1996. Pic addresses only his films up to 1959. As director of photography for “The Night of the Iguana” with Richard Burton and Ava Gardner he was nominated for an Oscar. His career transcended both Mexican cinema and big budget Hollywood productions. He was director of photography on “Kelly’s Heros,” a 1970, post Hayes Office, World War II anti-hero film starring Clint Eastwood. You’d never know that from this flick. Pic cites 1959’s “Maccario” as Figueroa’s last black and white job. It isn’t. “Iguana,” five years later is B/W. There is no excuse.
Manuel Alvarez Bravo lived for more than a century. His working life spanned eight decades. He is one of photography’s brightest lights. But one would never know it from “A Portrait of Diego.”
It would have been better if filmmakers Diego Lopez (Rivera’s grandson) and Gabriel Figueroa Flores (Figueroa’s son; the two get director credits) and Avarez Bravo’s daughter Genoveva (extensively interviewed) had focused on Rivera rather than setting an impossible bar for themselves. Had they concentrated on completing the film begun by their forebears, they could have achieved a unified work.á
“A Portrait of Diego” (in Spanish with English subtitles) is not rated. Other than some nudity, which is on display in the world’s great musea, it contains nothing anyone could deem unsuitable for children. Major funding came from Banco Nacional de Mexico. The bank may be well advised to avoid film finance.
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