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The Lead: Olivia Colman's Personal Reflections on 'Jimpa' In Jimpa, Olivia Colman plays a woman named Hannah who visits her father in Amsterdam, only to have family dynamics and personal revelations come to the surface. The film has triggered deep personal reflections for Colman about her relationship with her own father, who passed away recently. The Film's Exploration of Family Dynamics and Queer Identity Jimpa, a compound of "Jim" and "grandpa," follows Hannah as she travels to Amsterdam with her husband and 16-year-old trans child Frances. The film explores themes of intergenerational queerness, as Hannah's father Jim (played by John Lithgow) left his family 40 years ago to live a fuller queer life than Australia could offer at the time. Director Sophie Hyde wanted to challenge assumptions about how families respond to conflict, asking: "Can we ask our characters to respond with loving kindness, when usually our instinct is instant conflict?" Colman's Personal Connection to the Material Colman found a sharp parallel between her character's experience and her own relationship with her late father. "My dad and I, in real life, fought a lot. We adored each other, but oh my God, did we fight, and I don't really fight with anybody else," she shared. The role taught her to "listen and shut up" and to be "that nicer person" she wished she could have been with her father. Sexual Awakenings Across Generations Each character in Jimpa experiences a sexual encounter that changes them, challenging assumptions about sexuality and age. "I definitely didn't want Jim to not have a sexuality about him because he was older," explained Hyde. "I didn't want him to become somebody who talked about gayness as a theory. I wanted him to be a virile human being." The film portrays these awakenings with honesty and complexity, particularly for the young trans character Frances. The Impact of Authentic Representation The film's approach to queer identity and family relationships represents a significant shift in mainstream cinema. Aud Mason-Hyde, who plays Frances and is Sophie Hyde's real-life child, noted the pressure on young trans people to be "palatable and agreeable" while their own needs are often minimized. The film provides a nuanced portrayal of these dynamics without resorting to stereotypes or simplistic resolutions. The Future of Intergenerational Storytelling Jimpa represents a growing trend in cinema that explores complex family relationships across generations, particularly within LGBTQ+ communities. As audiences increasingly seek authentic and nuanced portrayals of diverse experiences, films like Jimpa pave the way for more honest explorations of identity, sexuality, and family dynamics. Colman's performance, informed by her personal reflections, adds a layer of authenticity that resonates beyond the screen.

The Lead: Carla Simón's Unique Approach to Family DramaFamily reunions in European arthouse cinema are almost always unhappy events, on a scale of strife that ranges from simmering resentment to spectacular score-settling. Carla Simón, however, has a rare gift: she makes you leave the cinema with renewed faith that having relatives and keeping in touch with them may actually be a wonderful thing.No film-maker working in Europe now is as capable of turning birthday gatherings, garden parties or poolside barbecues into thrillingly sprawling canvases of human virtue and vice as this 39-year-old rising star. From a riotous water fight in the Berlinale Golden Bear-winning farming drama Alcarràs to a foul-mouthed dinner table singalong in her new film Romería, Simón directs kinship meetings with the attention to detail that other film-makers may invest in action sequences or dance routines.The Event Details: Romería and the Journey to Self-DiscoveryAmong the tricks Simón employs, she explains, is to ensure her actors only read the script once before the camera starts rolling, so they have to improvise to fill the gaps. She takes her casts to parties, for walks and on shopping trips, and if there are disagreements on the way, so much the better. The ultimate secret sauce, though, is to ignore WC Fields's notorious advice and always work with children and animals."I never get bored of working with kids," she says. "When you are only working with adult actors, shooting becomes more like executing an idea that you have in your mind, and I think that is not interesting. With children, you always have this feeling that that things are going to happen in front of the camera by chance. It keeps things alive."Her new film Romería, meaning "pilgrimage" in Spanish, dives deeper into the story of the biological parents she barely got to know. Eighteen-year-old Marina travels to her relatives in Vigo, in north-western Galicia, purportedly to find the death certificate of her biological father, which she needs to study film-making in Barcelona. The initial reaction is warm, but family is a room with dark corners and locked closets.The Personal Journey: Aids, Loss and Family SecretsSimón's fascination with freewheeling scenes of family life was undoubtedly honed through her own biography. Born in Barcelona in 1986, her father died when she was three and her mother when she was six. Both of them succumbed to Aids. She was 12 when her adoptive mother told her that her parents had been infected with the autoimmune disease through their use of drugs.All of her first three films have been strongly autobiographical: Summer 1993 tells the story of a six-year-old girl who moves to an unspecified location countryside to live with her aunt after the death of her mother, while 2022's Alcarràs is specifically set in the Catalan peach-growing community of her adoptive family.In the film, a cache of letters written by her late mother opens up a portal to the time when her parents met and discovered love – for each other, the Atlantic Ocean and drugs. The letters, Simón explains, are real. "She wrote to her friends and family while she lived in Vigo. Her Catalan is full of mistakes, because teaching Catalan was banned under the Franco regime. But they are the most important thing that I have from my mother, because suddenly I can hear her talking."The Impact Analysis: Spanish Cinema and the Legacy of AidsSpanish cinema has a track record in making films where child actors take centre stage: Ana Torrent's spell-binding turn as a young girl obsessed with the Frankenstein tale in Víctor Erice's 1973 film The Spirit of the Beehive is considered an all-time great performance by a minor, and Simón describes it as "a very, very important film for me".During the transition period after Franco's rule, Madrid gave birth to la movida, a countercultural movement that celebrated lifestyles that had been banned under military rule. "All these kids who were raised under Franco and religious oppression, suddenly freedom arrived and they embraced it", Simón says. "They didn't think much about the future or the consequences of what they were experimenting with. And then the drugs came in."When we talk about this generation in Spain, people sometimes use words like shame and blame, but I feel that's really unfair: people like my parents just had bad luck.The Future Direction: Beyond Family in Simón's Next ProjectHalfway through Romería there is a stylistic shift, from the Eurorealism she favoured in her previous works toward something more magical-realist: there is a mysterious cat you might expect to encounter in a Miyazaki film, and an unforgettable dance number set to Vigo punk rocker's Siniestro Total's song Bailaré Sobre Tu Tumba ("I'll Dance on Your Grave")."These three films I've made are kind of a cycle, because they all talk about my family, adoptive and biological. But since I became a mother a few years ago, I feel that my place in the family changed. When you have kids you feel it's a new period in your life, so I feel like maybe doing something that has nothing to do with my family."Her next film, she confides, is going to be a flamenco musical.

The Revolutionary Spirit of Zineb Sedira's Exhibition Zineb Sedira's exhibition at Tate Britain's Duveen Galleries is a vibrant ode to revolutionary cinema, intellectualism, and the power of art to inspire change. The installation, titled 'When Words Fall Silent, Cinema Speaks,' transports visitors to the iconic La Cinémathèque Algérienne in Algiers, a mecca for leftist filmmakers and intellectuals in the 1960s and 1970s. Recreating a Revolutionary Hub Sedira's meticulous recreation of the Cinémathèque Algérienne includes a model movie theater, vintage jukebox, and a cafe serving wine and couscous. The space is filled with books about leftist cinema, and clips from films like Agnès Varda's 'Salut les Cubains' play in the background. This immersive environment embodies the spirit of radical chic, where intellectual pursuits and pleasure are intertwined. A Tribute to Boudjemaâ Karèche and La Cinémathèque Algérienne The exhibition centers around Boudjemaâ Karèche, the director of La Cinémathèque Algérienne. Through a short documentary film, Sedira shares Karèche's stories of the cinema's heyday, when it was a gathering place for young idealists who debated revolutionary art and social change. The beret-wearing Karèche is portrayed as a charismatic figure who embodied the fusion of politics and creativity. The Challenge of Preserving Revolutionary Energy The exhibition's final film poses a poignant question: can revolutionary moments be preserved and rekindled in a museum setting? Sedira's installation suggests that by celebrating the past, we can inspire new generations to engage with art and politics. As Sedira shows, truly revolutionary art empowers people to express themselves and challenges the status quo. A Lasting Impact Sedira's exhibition is a testament to the enduring power of art to inspire and educate. By recreating a pivotal moment in cinematic history, Sedira invites visitors to reflect on the intersections of art, politics, and identity. The exhibition runs at Tate Britain's Duveen Galleries until January 17.

The Unlikely Hero of Normal Bob Odenkirk continues his new career as the everyguy action hero in this cynically bleak gonzo actionfest, co-written by Odenkirk himself with John Wick creator Derek Kolstad. The director is Ben Wheatley, who shows the same kind of gunplay that was exhibited in his single-location mayhem spectacular Free Fire from 2017. A Town of Deception The setting is a place of Fargo-esque wholesomeness: a little town in Minnesota called Normal where Ulysses, played by Odenkirk, shows up as the interim sheriff, a decent guy just filling in after the previous sheriff was found dead in the snow in strange circumstances. Ulysses is depressed and battling a drinking problem after an unexplained violent end to his last job, which caused him to separate from his wife. The Dark Secret Unfolds Yet something is very wrong: when a bank robbery happens in this one-horse town, events are set in train which reveal to Ulysses that everything about Normal, like the blandly prosperous law practice in Sydney Pollack’s film The Firm, rests on a single, awful secret that he is about to uncover. It’s entertaining and bizarre chaos, anchored by Odenkirk’s hangdog air of gloomy resignation to the violent mess which he has to clean up. The Film's Release Normal is in UK and Irish cinemas from 15 May.

Demi Moore warned at a Cannes press conference that the film industry “cannot fight” the rise of artificial intelligence, describing resistance as a losing battle and calling for collaborative approaches.The Cannes Jury’s Candid Take on AI’s Inevitable RoleDuring a Tuesday press conference, the actress – a member of the Cannes Film Festival jury – answered questions about AI’s impact on cinema. She said, “AI is here. To fight it is a battle we will lose,” and suggested that filmmakers should explore ways to work with the technology rather than oppose it.Absence of Quantitative Data Highlights Qualitative ConcernsThe discussion contained no specific financial figures or usage statistics, underscoring that the debate is currently driven by ethical and creative considerations rather than measurable market impacts.Implications for Filmmakers and the Regulatory LandscapeMoore expressed doubt that the industry is doing enough to protect creators, hinting at a need for stronger regulation.Fellow juror Park Chan-wook reinforced the idea that art and politics should not be divided, linking the AI conversation to broader questions of creative freedom.Screenwriter Paul Laverty warned of potential “blacklisting” in Hollywood, suggesting that AI‑driven content controls could exacerbate existing censorship pressures.Future Outlook: Collaboration Over ConflictMoore concluded that the “beautiful aspects” of AI can enhance filmmaking, but the “true art” will always come from the human soul. The prevailing view among the jury is that embracing AI as a tool, while safeguarding artistic integrity, will shape the next era of cinema.

The Unparalleled Experience of CannesNothing prepares you for the shock that is the Cannes film festival: the adrenaline, the fatigue, the elation and the emotion, but also the hunger, the anger, the magic and the ridicule. For young cinephiles, and for almost everybody who works in the film industry, it is the mecca of cinema and has been so for nearly eight decades. Anyone going for the first time this week, as I did 25 years ago, should not listen to the old grognards – Cannes' battle-worn veterans – who will lament that the festival has become an abominable circus and swear this year will be their last. It is a circus, and you can bet they will be back for as long as their knees can take it. For there is nothing quite like it.From Resistance to Global Cinema HubBorn to counteract Benito Mussolini's Venice film festival, its first edition was planned for September 1939, but Adolf Hitler had other plans. The previous year, under pressure from Berlin and Rome, the Venice film festival's top prize, the Coppa Mussolini, was handed to Leni Riefenstahl's propaganda film Olympia, prompting the French, British and American delegates to walk out. Hence Cannes, conceived as the festival of the "free world". More than 80 years later, for all its sins, it has remained faithful to that founding promise.The Expansive Scale of Modern CannesOver the decades, Cannes has mutated into an ever-hungrier mammoth, needing more space, and more venues, as it attracts an increasing number of journalists and professionals. A purpose-built Palais des Festivals had to be erected in the 1980s. "The bunker", as we have come to call it, is not exactly beautiful but brutally efficient at managing Cannes' mind-boggling crowds. This year, about 40,000 accredited festival-goers are descending on the French Riviera from 140 different countries, with dozens of films selected across all sidebars. At the same time, the Marché du Film, running alongside the festival since the late 1960s, is gathering about 16,000 participants, with thousands of films and projects up for sale. Cannes is both a summit for the cinema elite and a giant film bazaar.Three Worlds Colliding at La CroisetteFor 11 days in May, three different worlds lead parallel lives – critics, deal-makers and red-carpet royalty – colliding almost by accident on the seafront boulevard known as La Croisette. Hundreds of critics watch multiple films a day with monastic discipline. When they give in to parties, they bitterly regret it the next morning. You can spot some of us sleeping through entire screenings; how some colleagues manage to review films is a mystery. I remember a well-known French critic who had such vivid dreams in the darkness that he became convinced they were scenes in the films. His reviews were full of brilliant analysis of moments that did not exist.We critics rush between screenings, press conferences, interviews, our desks and the bunker's free espresso machines, often forgetting to eat or even pee. Downstairs, in the bunker's basement, and in hotel suites and rented apartments, the film market runs day and night: buyers juggle numbers, producers charm, directors and screenwriters fight for their vision. Above them floats Cannes' top layer – stars and "talent" spending hours in hair and makeup before climbing the 24 steps of the red carpet in borrowed couture and jewellery. When people in the industry groan, "oh God, it's Cannes again", it is this collision of financial anxiety, choreographed glamour and sheer exhaustion they are bracing themselves for.The Magic and Meaning Behind the GlamourThese worlds sometimes collide in the most poetic or grotesque ways. One morning, rushing to my first screening at 7.30am, I was walking along the Croisette when I saw, coming towards me, slightly dishevelled in a tuxedo, Jack Nicholson on his way back to his hotel after a long night. I smiled, he smiled back. He was alone, no bodyguards, no chaperones. Those were the days. I also shared a lift with Takeshi Kitano in full samurai attire, and I will never forget turning into a hotel corridor and finding myself nose to nose with Max von Sydow – Ingmar Bergman's medieval knight from The Seventh Seal. My cinephile heart skipped a beat.One of my favourite sidebars in Cannes, alongside the competition where you watch the year's best crop of films, is Cannes Classics, showing restored world masterpieces and documentaries about cinema. I always start the festival there: it is the best way to reset and begin afresh. Then I am ready for the 10-day onslaught of motion pictures, and for the magic moment that precedes each Cannes screening – the festival's own jingle, a palm ascending the red carpet from underwater and then into the sky, lifted by the ethereal arpeggios of Camille Saint-Saëns's Carnival of the Animals.Cannes: Enduring Symbol of Cinematic ResistanceIn 1955, Cannes gave its first official Palme d'Or to Delbert Mann's Marty; half a century later I found myself befriending its wonderful star, Betsy Blair, on the Croisette. I had the joy of seeing Ken Loach twice climbing those steps to collect the Palme, escorted by police outriders from Nice airport as if he were a head of state. I watched Iranian directors Jafar Panahi and Mohammad Rasoulof showing films at peril to their lives. For all the craziness of the red carpet and the samurai outfits, Cannes never forgets that it was founded as a gesture of resistance. That, as much as the glamour and the exhaustion, is why we keep going back.

Juror’s Public Reproach of Hollywood’s Gaza‑Related BoycottDuring the opening days of the 2026 Cannes Film Festival, a juror took the podium to condemn a growing trend in Hollywood: the systematic exclusion of actors who have voiced support for Gaza amid the ongoing war. The juror described the boycott as a "dangerous precedent" that threatens the independence of artistic expression.Absence of Financial Metrics but Notable Industry RepercussionsWhile no concrete financial data were disclosed, industry observers note that the boycott could affect box‑office performance and streaming deals for the targeted actors, especially in markets where political sentiment is highly polarized. The lack of quantifiable figures makes it difficult to gauge immediate economic impact, but the reputational stakes are evident.Ripple Effects on Festival Politics and the Global Film CommunityIncreased scrutiny of film festivals' role in political discourse.Potential pressure on Cannes organizers to adopt clearer stance on artistic freedom.Heightened debate among producers about casting decisions tied to political views.These dynamics suggest a shifting landscape where cultural events may become arenas for geopolitical contestation.Looking Ahead: The Future of Political Expression in CinemaExperts predict that the tension between creative autonomy and political activism will intensify. If Hollywood continues to enforce informal blacklists, festivals like Cannes may either become safe havens for dissenting voices or face pressure to align with broader industry trends. The juror’s statement could catalyze a collective pushback, encouraging more transparent policies that protect artists regardless of their political stance.

The Growing Concern in French Cinema More than 600 cinema figures have signed an open letter warning that the growing influence of the far right on French cinema production risks turning into a "fascist takeover of the collective imagination." Published in the newspaper Libération to coincide with the opening of the Cannes film festival, the letter specifically targets billionaire Vincent Bolloré's dominant position in French film production and distribution. The Power of Vincent Bolloré's Media Empire Bolloré, a conservative industrialist with powerful media connections, controls Canal+ and its in-house production operation, StudioCanal, which is Europe's leading film and television production and distribution group. His recent films include the Amy Winehouse biopic "Back to Black" and "Paddington in Peru." The letter expresses alarm that Canal+ has taken a stake in UGC, the third-biggest network of French cinemas, with a view to fully owning it in 2028. The Political Landscape and Its Cultural Impact The protest comes amid rising influence of Marine Le Pen's far-right National Rally (RN) in French politics, with uncertainty about potential funding cuts to the arts. MPs for the RN have questioned the model of public funding and tax breaks that bolster the film industry through the Centre National du Cinéma (CNC). The party has also been highly critical of France's public broadcaster, France Télévisions, which is a key financier of film, drama and documentaries. Industry Response and Future Concerns This protest follows similar actions by writers who quit the publishing house Grasset in protest against Bolloré's control of its parent company, Hachette Livre. The film industry figures fear that Bolloré might take advantage of his dominant position to influence film content, warning that "the only thing still being financed will be propaganda films that serve an ideology." They called on the wider film industry "to build a movement" that would defend independence. The Broader Implications for French Culture The unprecedented concentration of the financing chain in the hands of Vincent Bolloré gives him total liberty of action when the moment comes, according to the letter. The protest highlights growing concerns about the intersection of media ownership, political influence, and cultural production in France, particularly as the country approaches a presidential election where the far-right is polling strongly.

The Art Revolution That Started in a Car Park It's hard to imagine now, but there was a time when rooftop bars weren't really a thing. A time before pop-ups and contemporary outdoor sculpture parks. A time even, if you can bear to think of it, before immersive art. Way back in 2007, there was none of that – the UK was an experiential art wasteland. And then Bold Tendencies showed up, chucked a whole load of sculptures in a multi-storey Peckham car park, painted a staircase bright pink, built a cocktail bar on the roof, and changed everything. Two Decades of Transformative Art Now going into its 20th summer season, Bold Tendencies is celebrating two decades of sometimes sun-drenched, often windswept and drizzly arts programming. In that time, it has welcomed more than 3 million visitors into its concrete edifice behind Peckhamplex cinema, commissioned dozens of new artworks, hosted countless recitals and performances, built an auditorium and a concert hall, and drawn the roadmap for countless art experiences that have come in its wake. The Artistic Legacy And the art's not been too bad, either. Anthea Hamilton built a doorway to heaven through a man's splayed legs in 2010. Jess Flood-Paddock parked Del Boy's three-wheeled van on the roof in 2011. James Bridle flew a black balloon filled with wifi routers from the roof in 2014. Adam Farah-Saad installed a decorative retro water fountain in 2024. There have been piles of raw pigment, fluttering flags, wobbly walkways, heads on spikes. Almost all newly commissioned, and all free to see. Transforming the Cultural Landscape You can't overstate just how different, not only Peckham was in 2007, but the whole cultural landscape of the country. This was years before the likes of The Vinyl Factory or Frameless, and long before the Hayward and Tate were racing to the bottom to find the most TikTok-ready, Instagram-friendly exhibitions possible. The only large-scale sculptural commissions around back then were the fourth plinth and the Tate's annual Turbine Hall and Duveen projects. There wasn't really anywhere else to see new sculptural work by young artists. The Peckham Effect There also wasn't a lot going on in Peckham at the time. But what the area did have was a handful of project spaces, a single dive bar called Bar Story, seriously cheap rents and – thanks to being squeezed between Camberwell College of Arts and Goldsmiths – a lot of artists. Combined with a relative sense of isolation in the days before the London Overground, it boasted a fairly unique set of circumstances. "I found it to be a place of great possibility," says Barry. "And it still feels like that." The Visionary Behind the Movement Barry had been putting on exhibitions in a semi-derelict house on nearby Lyndhurst Way, and struck up a relationship with the people responsible for property in Southwark council. The council realised that artists could act as caretakers of empty, derelict buildings awaiting redevelopment, and Barry figured that those buildings could be used for art exhibitions. It's a model still followed today by other cultural charities, one that some consider the forward battalion in a wave of gentrification that has engulfed the city ever since. The Future of Public Art "Part of our responsibility in doing a project like this is to offer up the joy of feeling welcome to as many people as possible," says Hannah Barry, the driving force behind Bold Tendencies and owner of Peckham's longstanding Hannah Barry Gallery. "People come here for all sorts of different reasons and they may stay for a short time or stay for a long time. What matters is that they're curious enough to come." As Bold Tendencies enters its third decade, it continues to push boundaries and redefine what public art can be, proving that sometimes the most revolutionary ideas come from the most unexpected places.