The Queer Family Drama We Didn’t Know We Needed (But Maybe Didn’t Get)
There’s something oddly comforting about a film that tries to wrap its arms around complex family dynamics, queer identity, and intergenerational conflict. Jimpa, directed by Sophie Hyde, is one such attempt—a film that feels like a warm hug but leaves you wondering if it’s holding you a little too loosely. Personally, I think this is where the film’s greatest strength and weakness collide: it’s earnest to a fault. Hyde’s semi-autobiographical take on family, queerness, and legacy is undeniably heartfelt, but it often feels like it’s congratulating itself for simply existing rather than saying something truly profound.
The Performances: A Silver Lining in a Sea of Ambiguity
One thing that immediately stands out is the commitment of Olivia Colman and John Lithgow. Colman, as always, brings a quiet intensity to her role as Hannah, a filmmaker grappling with her own identity and her relationship with her father. Lithgow, meanwhile, is magnetic as Jimpa, a man whose charisma masks a deep-seated stubbornness. What makes this particularly fascinating is how their performances elevate a script that often feels uncertain. In my opinion, the film’s best moments are those where these two titans of acting share the screen, their chemistry hinting at a richer story than the one we’re given.
The Problem with ‘Kindness’ as a Narrative Crutch
Hyde’s insistence on framing the film around the idea of “kindness” is where things start to unravel. Don’t get me wrong—kindness is a virtue, but it’s not a substitute for conflict or depth. When Jimpa dismisses modern queer terminology as “evasive” and “insipid,” the film briefly sparks to life. This salty argument is the one moment where the characters feel real, where the stakes feel tangible. But instead of leaning into this tension, the film retreats into its placid belief that kindness can smooth over everything. What this really suggests is a missed opportunity—a film afraid to get its hands dirty in the messiness of human relationships.
The Teen Perspective: A Glimmer of Hope?
The coming-of-age storyline centered on Frances (played by Hyde’s own child, Aud Mason-Hyde) is where the film finds its footing—at least partially. Frances’s idolization of Jimpa as a queer role model is relatable, but the film’s portrayal of her as a soulful teen photographer feels a bit too curated. When the teen lead takes photos on a disposable roll-film camera instead of a smartphone, it’s not just a stylistic choice—it’s a symptom of the film’s larger issue. What many people don’t realize is that authenticity isn’t about aesthetics; it’s about emotional truth. And while Frances’s journey has moments of genuine connection, it’s often overshadowed by the film’s need to appear profound.
The Irony of It All
A detail that I find especially interesting is the film’s unintentional irony. Hannah believes her film can succeed without conflict, yet the most compelling moments are those where conflict arises. If you take a step back and think about it, this mirrors the tension between Jimpa’s generation and the modern queer movement. Jimpa’s dismissal of terms like “queer” and “bi” isn’t just a character quirk—it’s a reflection of a broader cultural clash. The film tries to celebrate progress while glossing over the very debates that define it. This raises a deeper question: Can we truly honor the past without engaging with its complexities?
Where Does Jimpa Fit in the Queer Cinema Landscape?
From my perspective, Jimpa is a film that wants to be a conversation starter but ends up feeling like a monologue. It’s not as bold as Animals (Hyde’s 2019 gem) or as nuanced as other queer family dramas like The Kids Are All Right. Yet, it’s not entirely without merit. The performances alone make it worth a watch, and there are moments where the film’s heart shines through. But in a landscape increasingly crowded with stories about queer identity and family, Jimpa feels like a missed opportunity—a film that plays it safe when it should have taken a leap.
Final Thoughts: A Warm Hug, But Not a Tight One
In the end, Jimpa is a film that leaves me conflicted. On one hand, I appreciate its attempt to explore queer family dynamics and intergenerational relationships. On the other, I can’t shake the feeling that it’s holding back. Personally, I think the film’s greatest flaw is its reluctance to embrace the messiness of its own story. It’s a warm hug, but not a tight one—and sometimes, you need a little more pressure to feel truly held.
