SYNOPSIS

Frida: The Last Night Show is a Korean original musical that reimagines the life of Mexican painter Frida Kahlo. The story unfolds through four performers: Repleha, a talk-show host who also plays Diego Rivera and frames Frida’s life from the outside; Memoria, a parallel-universe Frida who is healthy and able to pursue her dream of becoming a doctor; Destino, the voice of fate and despair, insisting that pain and death are inescapable; and finally Frida herself, portrayed in her real, fragile body, marked by illness and loss but fiercely devoted to her art.

The musical portrays her life as a recurring cycle of crisis, frustration, and survival, reflecting her resilience and her enduring commitment to art. Structured as a late-night talk show, it combines narrative, song, and dance to depict Frida’s struggles and triumphs.


REVIEW

The production emphasized Frida as a perpetual survivor. Time and again she was shown as the patient, the betrayed, the struggling artist — always rising again. This perspective was consistent but narrowed her scope. Beyond survival, Frida was a thinker, a victorious creator, and a self-fashioning individual who lived on her own terms.

On stage, Frida was portrayed as noble, sympathetic, and dignified. Yet the real woman was also daring, contradictory, and defiant. Those contradictions gave her humanity as much as her suffering did. In a Korean context, it is understandable that political or moral edges may be softened; still, touches of ambiguity — her wit, conflicting loves, and sharp self-fashioning — might have given the piece greater depth.

Her relationship with Diego Rivera was also simplified. She appeared devoted and devastated by his betrayal, but their enduring bond was shaped by eccentricity and artistic individuality, not submission. The script emphasized independence through strong language, but often reduced her to frailty and betrayal. Even the dialogue sometimes sounded more like a modern Korean domestic quarrel than early 20th-century Mexico.

Performances brought life to the stage. Sophie Kim’s Frida had immediate presence and vocal strength, blending warmly with Heo Yoon Seul’s Memoria. AIKI as Diego was a surprise: while her tone sometimes thinned, her delivery was stronger than expected, and her tender phrasing in the final scene became her most moving moment. Park SunYoung’s Destino was fierce and commanding, and Sophie Kim revealed another dimension in the closing solo with a striking dance sequence, proving herself as a triple threat.

In the end, the show lingered on Frida as a figure of survival. Yet she also lived decisively, choosing Diego, pursuing her art, and embracing freedom despite pain. By smoothing away contradictions, the production missed a chance to capture her full vitality: her agency, wit, and defiance. As someone who tends to look for causes and fixes, I felt Frida deserved to be portrayed with greater complexity. Still, I understand why the producers chose otherwise — for many, the story of enduring relentless adversity may already feel more than enough.