Jimpa, 2025.

Written and Directed by Sophie Hyde.
Starring Olivia Colman, John Lithgow, Aud Mason-Hyde, Daniel Henshall, Kate Box, Eamon Farren, Hans Kesting, Zoë Love Smith, Romana Vrede, Deborah Kennedy, Jean Janssens, Frank Sanders, Cody Fern, Tilda Cobham-Hervey, Bryn Chapman, Parish Len, Leo Vincent, and Julian Cruiming.

SYNOPSIS:

Hannah and her non-binary teenager Frances visit her gay grandfather Jimpa in Amsterdam. Frances expresses a desire to stay with their grandfather for a year, challenging Hannah’s parenting beliefs and forcing her to confront past issues.

Both gay activist/somewhat estranged grandfather Jim (certainly a bold performance from John Lithgow that plays to his charismatic strengths) and his non-binary teenager grandchild Frances (Aud Mason-Hyde, the child of writer/director Sophie Hyde, who is evidently telling a personal story here) are complex characters in Jimpa (a combination of the name and grandpa, which fittingly reflects two very distinct ways in which Frances perceives him, perhaps first and foremost as a gay rights fighter more than a family member).

As Frances and parents, Hannah (Olivia Colman) and Harry (Daniel Henshall), visit Jim in Amsterdam, where Frances, much to their chagrin, is thinking about staying for a year with Jimpa to enjoy his enigmatic company and study abroad in a more progressive community, the more frustrating, problematic sides to him become more pronounced. It’s a side of Frances’ parents they warned has always been there, but even after a stroke, the openly flamboyant, provocative, no-filter man can control and captivate an entire room effortlessly.

Jim has had many lovers and has no doubt been an instrumental force in fighting for gay rights. He has also slipped into conservatism and lost sight of the greater picture, insistent that there is no such thing as bisexuality, which, to him, as an idea, negates everything he has fought for. Naturally, Frances very existence as a non-binary individual sexually attracted to women or non-cis men is a challenge to that worldview. Much of that frustration with Jimpa’s stubbornness is reflected in a tremendously nuanced performance from Aud Mason-Hyde, a natural at playing what is unquestionably a multilayered and complicated role, given the circumstances.

There is also an aspect that sees Hannah, a filmmaker clearly standing in for Sophie Hyde here, looking to channel a family history in which Jim came out as gay and left the family when she was 13, into conflict-free art, something that creative collaborators over Zoom advise her isn’t possible. At times, it feels as if Sophie Hyde is executing this film similarly, which isn’t as interested in some of the above clashes as one might be led to believe. Instead, the third act involves a bit of tragedy and some extended wrapping-up that doesn’t seem to address much of what comes before.

The film also primarily wants to be about Frances and their rocky relationship with their Jimpa, but also individual experiences such as discovering aspects of their sexuality, experiencing intimacy for the first time (in numerous unconventional and casual ways that some might deem inappropriate, but then again, it is Europe…), and how living in Amsterdam could provide a more fulfilling and welcoming upbringing. Throughout all of this are vague montage-like flashback glimpses to these characters, replaced by younger actors in a stylistic choice that is substantially empty.

The longer Jimpa goes on, the more it feels overstuffed with plot concepts and thematic ideas that are either discarded or never cohere into anything profound, especially since the focus is scattered all over the place. It’s a film that might have worked better by sticking with the perspective of one of its major characters, rather than ambitiously piling everything into a family affair that doesn’t necessarily resolve, but instead transitions into about 30 minutes of sentimentality.

In some ways, it isn’t tightly coiled enough to prioritize both Frances and Jimpa, shortchanging both of them as complex people. By the time Hannah is having filmmaking epiphanies about how to tell this story, one is likely confounded by this family’s dynamics and has checked out. Jimpa is a story of fascinatingly messy, contradictory LGBTQ stances and character relationships that is far more interesting than it is rewarding.

Flickering Myth Rating – Film: ★ ★ ★ / Movie: ★ ★

Robert Kojder

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=embed/playlist

Two figures will always haunt the human imagination: the woman in ecstasy, and the woman in madness. This enduring fascination may stem as much from the paper-thin line that separates the two states as it does from our deep-seated fear of both. If the devoted nun resembles the raving patient, does that not justify locking them away, protecting ourselves from their unsettling power?

Two recent novels go behind the walls of anchorite and lunatic cells in different centuries and for different purposes, yet wind up demonstrating how women forced by circumstance behind walls influence the lives of others into the future. In “Canticle,” a debut from Janet Rich Edwards, a young woman named Aleys enters religious life in 13th-century Bruges, Belgium, after a Franciscan, Brother Lukas, witnesses her fervor. A series of unfortunate events ultimately lead to her permanent cloister, a tiny cell built into the wall of a cathedral. Paula McLain’s new book, “Skylark,” spans several centuries in Paris, beginning in the 17th when Alouette Voland is sentenced to the Salpetrière asylum after protesting the arrest of her father, an expert fabric dyer, from prison, for the brilliant blue hue he has concocted — actually his daughter’s recipe, which contains dangerous arsenic. Alouette’s attempts to reclaim her work as her own instead of her father’s result in her consignment to Salpêtrière.

While both novels feature terrific and authentic detail about the rough confines Aleys and Alouette endure, the message beneath the descriptions is far more terrifying and authentic: for centuries, the fear of female agency and non-male approaches to power has led to deep trauma, not just for individual women, but for Western civilization itself. For instance, Aleys’s late mother cherished books, even though common people rarely knew how to read and write, let alone owned books. Aleys cherishes the tiny, exquisite psalter her mother inherited from an abbess aunt. Although Aleys’s mother cannot read, she knows the stories of the saints and relishes embroidering them with “goriest” details to keep her children interested. Yet, even as Aleys’s world begins to change with the rise of lay literacy, those lay people are almost entirely men. Women, whether secular or religious, remain forbidden to read, write or tell stories.

Aleys, at first, seems to be on a path toward personal enlightenment. Brother Lukas declares her a Franciscan, convincing his superior, Bishop of Tournai Jaan Metz, that the young woman possesses special spiritual gifts. The Bishop agrees, but insists that since no other Franciscans are female, Aleys must be sent to the nearby Beguines—laywomen who take no vows, live in community, and work to support the church. While Aleys initially finds the Beguines “wanton” due to their “strange rites,” including casual dress and meetings, their charismatic leader, Grand Mistress Sophia Vermeulen, convinces Aleys of the group’s higher purpose.

Aleys later discovers that a beguine named Katrijn Janssens has been secretly translating Latin scripture into Dutch. In the evenings, the women often perform ecstatic dances while someone reads from the “Canticle of Canticles” (also known as the “Song of Songs”). Aleys already has a strong mystical bent, and after some time in the Begijnhof, she supposedly cures a young boy’s illness. Unfortunately, she’s unable to do the same when Sophia becomes sick. Her subsequent eviction from the Beguines leads to her accepting the Bishop’s offer of sanctuary—as an anchorite, destined to live out her days in a tiny stone outcropping. Her only contact with other humans is a slit through which she can hear daily mass, save for Marte, the low-ranking Beguine assigned to deliver her meals and empty her slop bucket.

Meanwhile, Alouette has become an adept of dye recipes. Even though she and other women are able to read, write, and keep ledgerbooks by this date, the complicated and often secret tinctures concocted for fabrics remain the province of men.

Like Aleys, Alouette forms alliances with other women, Sylvine and Marguerite, the latter of whom carefully documents the guards’ abuses in a ledger. These abuses include the murder of inmates’ infants, a fact that galvanizes the pregnant Alouette (the father of her child, Étienne, is a quarryman) into joining a plan for escape through the Paris sewers. The women find refuge in a convent and, ultimately, in a seaside town where some measure of peace awaits them.

It’s a far happier ending than Aleys’s, who is met with a darker fate. That is partly because McLain’s novel doesn’t end with Alouette’s relatively soft landing; “Skylark” continues in 1939 through the perspective of Kristof Larsen, a Dutch psychiatrist in Paris. His relationship with his Jewish neighbors, the Brodskys, grows closer as Nazi power corrupts France. Despite his ties to the resistance, Kristof cannot save the entire family during the 1942 Vélodrome d’Hiver roundup, but he takes responsibility for their 15-year-old daughter Sasha. Along with his compatriot Ursula, they are guided to safety through the same Paris tunnels that sheltered Alouette centuries earlier.

“Skylark” author Paula McLain.

(Simon & Schuster)

The fragile tie between Alouette and Sasha rests in a tiny piece of glass found during the restoration of Notre Dame de Paris after the 2019 fire. A conservator uncovers the shard, which bears an intense blue figure of a skylark — evidence, at least to the reader, that Alouette’s recipe endured, and a symbol of how both she and Sasha escaped. Female creation and resistance, the novel suggests, endure, too.

At first, that seems at odds with Aleys’s tragic fate. “As the crowd parts before her, Aleys sees the path of gray cobblestones receding to the stake. Parchment is piled high at its base. Smaller fires have already been lit, dotting the plaza. They’re burning her words, too. . . ” Yet, it’s no spoiler to reveal that during her long weeks and months as an anchorite, Aleys found the means to slowly and secretly teach Marte, lowliest of the Beguines, how to read and write. “They write words on the sill between them and wipe them off, their palms and feet dark with dust.” Just as Aleys’s mother passed on her passion for books and Alouette pursued her passion for beauty, Marte will carry on a passion for stories.

More important, however, and something that ties “Skylark” to “Canticle,” is that Aleys and Alouette, Marte and Sasha, live on through work done by and with women. Whether it’s a recipe for dye, a hunger for divine knowledge, or the means to freedom, the main characters in both novels believe deeply in women’s full humanity. Aleys acknowledges the contentment of the Beguines, understanding that their communal labors knit their “hopes, their labor, even their disagreements” as “strands in a single weave. Kristof says of Ursula that she “charts her course in full light with eyes wide open, and still she chooses danger. Chooses–over and over–not to surrender.”

It’s true that the authors of these novels live in 21st-century North America, where many people believe in equality even if the full humanity of others is under attack, but neither Edwards nor McLain indulges in anachronisms. Aleys yearns for divine ecstasy but does not come across as a would-be influencer, let alone as a Mother Ann Lee fomenting spiritual revolution; she believes in the church, even if not fully in its leadership, until her end. Alouette and her comrades pursue a different life but do not seek it for everyone, which feels right not just for their era but for their experience of trauma. Even Ursula and Sasha rely on men for their escape, accepting that whoever has the correct experience and expertise should lead the way.

What “Canticle” and “Skylark” get right about their very different heroines and time periods is that change doesn’t happen overnight, nor does it benefit everyone. Aleys teaches Marte to read, but Aleys will suffer for her ideas. Sasha will escape Vichy France, but her family will still die in the concentration camps. Switch the clauses in those sentences around, however, and you’ll be reminded that change can and does happen, one determined woman at a time.

Patrick is a freelance critic and author of the memoir “Life B.”

LET IT BE KNOWN that Relationship Goals (now streaming on Amazon Prime Video) is less of a romantic comedy than it is an act of synergistic corporate-religious shamelessness. Ostensibly, it’s a lightweight love-hate Valentine’s Day-themed banterfest between musicians-turned-actors Kelly Rowland (of Destiny’s Child) and Cliff “Method Man” Smith (of the Wu-Tang Clan). But that’s a flimsy tissue-paper cover for The Truth Of The Matter: It’s a 93-minute promotional tool for Relationship Goals: How to Win at Dating, Marriage, and Sex, a faith-based self-help tome by nondenominational Christian megachurch pastor Michael Todd, and a book that the movie’s dialogue tells us can be purchased at a certain online retailer that just so happens to be producing this movie. Michael Todd, who’s prominently featured in the story, and is depicted so glowingly, the movie barely stops shy of slapping wings and a halo on him. Michael Todd, who once went viral for coughing up a loogie and wiping it on his brother’s face during a sermon, to prove a point about faith. Gross, yes – and almost as gross as this advertisement trying to pass itself off as a movie.

The Gist: “Today is the day!” declares Leah Caldwell (Rowland) as she emerges from refreshing slumber. She works as a producer at Better Day USA, a network morning show in the GMA vein, and she’s in line to be promoted to showrunner. Total slamdunk. No questions. It’s just waiting for her once her boss (Matt Walsh) finally retires. IF ONLY, RIGHT? Here’s the wrench in the works: The invisible, nameless, faceless Higher-Ups – honest-to-gum deities or just corporate boardroom chair-moisteners? We can’t be sure! – have dictated the need for competition for the position, so in comes nighttime TV vet Jarrett Roy (Smith) to nudge our protag. He’s nudged her before, too – Jarrett is her ex, and she dumped him for cheating like a dog. You’ve got to be kidding me. Leah’s rightfully flaming pissed, and her besties, makeup gal Treese (Annie Gonzalez) and show anchor Brenda (Robin Thede), support her by listening and puffing her up and insisting that “God has a plan.”

But Leah doesn’t go full atheist. Oh no. She digs in, more determined than ever. In a pitch meeting for Valentine’s Day segments, her idea gets shot down. But Jarrett’s gets greenlit, and here’s where the movie gets really icky: Do a story fluffing up Michael Todd, a megachurch pastor and author played by real-life megachurch pastor and author Michael Todd, who’s introduced as a “YouTube sensation,” although nobody mentions the viral loogie incident. Specifically, the piece will transparently promo- er, that is, delve into megachurch pastor and author Michael Todd’s book Relationship Goals, which Jarrett says changed his life. It chased that dawg right out of him, and now he’s a new and improved man. O RLY is the look on Leah’s face, which squinches up even more when the boss dictates she and Jarrett team up to work on the story, which requires a trip to Tulsa where Brenda will interview megachurch pastor and author Michael Todd, and a visit to his church, which is also the church from real life, and we therefore get to see the church’s logo many times over, but understand the urgency with which we should immediately experience his mindblowing sermons (or, in lieu of that, consume his products).

Some boilerplate romcom stuff happens – Brenda can’t get her longtime basketball player boyfriend to propose, Treese goes on too many dud first dates, Jarrett and Leah get stuck in a car together traveling cross-country and encountering sassy waitresses at podunk diners – but the real narrative emphasis is on how megachurch pastor and author (and YouTube sensation!) Michael Todd’s book Relationship Goals can solve all the characters’ problems. Granted, these are simplistic situations and megachurch pastor and author (and YouTube sensation!) Michael Todd’s book Relationship Goals offers simplistic solutions, but one assumes there’s so much more to megachurch pastor and author (and YouTube sensation!) Michael Todd’s book Relationship Goals that you should probably order it right now from a prominent online retailer so you can live your bestest life forever and ever, and by the way, here’s the cover of the book in a couple dozen scenes so you know what it looks like. Meanwhile, said prominent online retailer wouldn’t mind if you also ordered a bunch of other products from it, including a variety of snack foods and small kitchen appliances whose logos are prominently featured in nice, clean, perfectly focused closeup shots. Helluva movie you’ve got here!

What Movies Will It Remind You Of? Think Like a Man and What to Expect When You’re Expecting became lousy movies too, but they weren’t so egregiously promotional. In the meantime, I’ll very impatiently wait for the movie Peacock Presents Flo From Progressive Insurance Insists You Should Bundle And Save On Home And Auto. 

Performance Worth Watching: I’ve heard it’s tough to play yourself in a movie, but megachurch pastor and author (and YouTube sensation!) Michael Todd proves just how easy it is to play himself in an infomercial.

Sex And Skin: Megachurch pastor and au- OK, I’ll stop already. Anyway. The guy who wants you to buy his book says he’ll inform you how to “win at sex” – whatever the hell that means – although the movie never shows us or even talks about it. I call hypocrisy!

Our Take: I’d say Relationship Goals is as subtle as a fart in church, but in this case, Michael Todd’s mega-decibel rock-concert presentation would drown out even the most elephantine flatulence. And once we see Michael Todd spew his catchphrase-laden spiel – “You can’t Facebook faithfulness or Instagram integrity” couldn’t possibly be whipped cream coiled atop a steaming-hot cup of snake oil, could it? – for a Better Day USA interview, and witness his EARTHSHAKING sermon buffered by billowing clouds from the smoke machine, even the most hardcore agnostic will be coughing up a loogie of a prayer to save them from this junk. 

I will hereby curb my cynicism for self-help philosophies and products under the assumption that some folks are empowered by them, whether it’s from motivational types like Michael Todd, Brene Brown or Matt Foley. You do you. We’re all doing our best to get through the day whether we’re reading the bible, speaking affirmations into the mirror or blasting Slayer while on the stationary bike. But this quasi-movie is pathetic in its attempt to paper over an advertisement with romcom tropes: quasi-clever banter, cutesy girl-bonding dance sequences, the love/hate dynamic between the leads, etc. And even without the relentless promotional considerations, the movie shows no interest in anything but featherweight cliches.

Granted, there’s no room for narrative innovation when you have content to push, be it via printed materials, live events or YouTube videos. Relationship Goals – the movie, not the book, although they blur together so thoroughly you’d think someone purchased a multi-speed immersion blender from a certain online retailer to guarantee a smooth mixture – features the Better Day USA segment on Michael Todd multiple times, with people in lobbies and offices stopping what they’re doing to watch, instantly converted, wide-eyed and nodding in agreement. Leah, forever steadfast in her dislike of her cheatin’ ex Jarrett, might even be swayed by the Power Of Michael Todd’s Word. Like I said, shameless. I’d be lying if the movie never made me laugh, however – there’s a moment where Leah and Jarrett high-five over having made a “well-rounded story” about our man-of-the-hour subject here, and one assumes if it wasn’t the luminous glow-up we see, it would’ve been a straight-up hardcore blowjob video. 

Our Call: Um. No. SKIP IT.

John Serba is a freelance film critic from Grand Rapids, Michigan. Werner Herzog hugged him once.