Terrible acting, screenplay and direction.

Plot so thin, it passes unnoticed.

Although it has its amusing moments, in eneral the plot does not convince.

It really made me laugh, but for some moments I was tearing up because I could relate so much.

JIMMY P. is structurally a mess. Director Arnaud Desplechin is never quite sure what he wants the film to say: whether it comments on the status of Native Indians in postwar Amerıca; the suspicious status of much activity going under the name of psychology; life in institutions based on locking people up and asking questions later; or asking us to reflect on the fine dividing line between madness and sanity.The plot is a straightforward one: Jimmy Picard (Benicio Del Toro), a Native Indian veteran of World War II, suffers from terrible headaches. Confined to an institution, he comes under the care of maverick psychologist Georges Devereux (Benicio Del Toro), who nurses Picard back to health through a series of insistent questions while probing deeply into his sexual past. There is only one snag: Devereux's background is equally shady; he might or might not be a practicing psychiatrist, and he himself undergoes therapy at the end of the film.Shot in atmospheric colorlessness, the film recreates a world where anyone differing from racial or psychological norms - as constructed by whites - is automatically identified as deviant, and hence not worth treating. It is only due to Devereux's persistence that Picard recovers at all; and even then, the psychiatrist has to browbeat the institution's director Dr. Menninger (Larry Pine) into agreement.The actual process of recovery is perfunctorily handled; while the racial themes become lost in a convoluted subplot involving Devereux's friend Madeleine (Gina McKee), Howard Shore's musical score is unnecessarily intrusive, its syrupy fat chords directing attention away from Picard's soliloquy describing his mental state, almost as if director Desplechin was under the impression that viewers could not concentrate on words alone.The ending is equally unsatisfactory, as we have no idea what will happen to Picard, once released from the institution. He vows to see his family, but the potential traumas presented by the workaday world after such a long time spent in confinement are simply left unexplored. In many ways JIMMY P. is something of a wasted opportunity to make a comment on discrimination and its consequences in America's past.

This one slightly reminiscent of A Dangerous Method, but this has a lot more to say, and frankly make the aforementioned movie now seem extremely below par. The psychoanalysis explored here is incredibly intriguing, and different, and makes Cronenberg's piece seem very distracted and far less interesting, despite both being true stories.I've liked Mathieu Amalric as soon as I saw him in Venus In Fur (still criminally underrated as Polanski back in form) and TGBH also, and here he lands one of the lead roles and does a fantastic job as a bit of an eccentric but confident anthropologist. He and Benicio Del Toro were the only reasons I watched this initially.Del Toro is playing a war vet who suffers head trauma and is having spells of major migraines and blindness since. Plus he is playing a native Indian, so there are many subtle themes woven into the narrative without shouting them at you. The main thing I took from it was how as people from different cultures, we are at the same time very different but also all human and more similar than we think. It also touches on the treatment of native Indians, though it is barely there, just again written subtly into the narrative: Because he is Indian and drinks occasionally, all the white American doctors think he is a drunk, hence his symptoms. One of the rare times he actually speaks to them is to tell them "my name is Jimmy, not'chief'". He for the most part will only talk with the anthropologist.Del Toro nails the brain trauma victim, as I think I took more from his character personally as he reminded me a lot of myself. People say you are crazy, are schizophrenic, a drug-addict, when in reality you have brain trauma. Your mind is not well. You are judged. This aspect of the movie was done perfectly as I was able to relate with Del Toro's character immediately, and everything about his character and his actions were realistic and executed with finesse. It is not a fun experience, and even less fun when you are put in a nuthouse because of it and are surrounded by truly lost souls as you wonder "why am I here?" Definitely one of the better films that takes place in one of these facilities, though it has nothing on Cuckoo's Nest or Persona.The scenes where he talks about his past were really well done too, I was never confused as to what was a scene from the past or otherwise. Most of that is due to Del Toro, as he plays two different characters essentially, pre-accident and the present. He will only talk to the anthropologist played by Amalric, as he has been asked for, despite being a doctor with a shady reputation. But he happens to specialise in native Indians, and his approach to psychoanalysis is interesting to say the least. It was further intriguing to see him use more unconventional methods – to western culture at least – and rather focused on spiritual aspects that the native Indians believe and practice. His respect for the religious ways of his client is admirable and the world would be a better place if more doctors were that open-minded.The basic story is predictable as all hell, and I really wish the movie inserted more conflict between the two. But there are some truly great, emotional scenes between Del Toro and Amalric that dig deep into the human condition, and despite their cultural differences they realise that they are not so different. It certainly helped that the script was well-written and filled with interesting, unconventional ideas.This was also a fascinating look into how war vets were treated after WWII when it came to brain injuries. It is quite haunting, especially considering the fact treatment for people like Jimmy P. is somehow even worse in today's world, especially with US Army propaganda proclaiming they are 'Protecting freedom' and 'keeping us safe' - two of the most-cringe worthy quotes constantly repeated on US television, especially in sport, by athletes themselves, which on its own is disturbing given how big sport is in the US. I could go on and on but I won't, I simply thought this was a great metaphor for how army veterans are treated if returning home maimed and disabled. The government they thought they were serving simply does not give a toss about them, which is the unfortunate reality.I was waiting for this to go down an unexpected path as it winded down.. It kinda does and kinda doesn't. But it is a true story so I guess they stuck to the actual events. Overall a very interesting film that, despite its flaws, tells an interesting story while also touches on various social subjects that happened to be a part of his life and treatment at the hospital.3.5/5 – Sorry DC, I love your work, but this one is infinitely superior to your own take on psychoanalysis. This film has a big heart and makes for an emotional watch.

The visuals in Jimmy P: Psychotherapy of a Plains Indian are almost, almost worth the price of admission. The opening scene of the film beautifully articulates setting and irony by showing the grassy plains of America while Native American flute music is played in the backdrop. It's a comforting, soft opening to a film that is erected predominately off of complex discussion and ideology.The film stars Benicio Del Toro in a role he clearly embraced and enjoyed, playing Jimmy Picard, a Blackfoot Indian, who has returned from war with seriously debilitating symptoms, most specifically, a crippling headache. Jimmy is placed under the care of George Devereux (Mathieu Amalric), a real-life French doctor and anthropologist, who specializes in ethnology and psychoanalysis. The two meet together and form a quaint bond between their lengthy discussions about Native American history and culture, stemming from Devereux's desire to learn about the culture, as an anthropologist often does and Jimmy's checkered past, which involves troubled love and a teenage daughter that another man is raising.With the right directorial methods and smooth, engaging writing, Jimmy P. could easily be a film that one can effortlessly sink into, investing in its characters and learning a thing or two about psychological methods. It just so happens that my semester of high school psychology delved into Freudian ideas and psychoanalysis quite extensively, both principles are based on three key ideas: the inner conscious and unconscious act as dueling forces in the mind, the discussion and population of defense mechanisms in order for people to cope or estrange themselves from their past, and the idea that dreaming means more than disjointed shows that play in your head while you sleep.Making a film centered around often complex and occasionally droning material, especially when that film is about the founding days of a division in psychology, is unbelievably challenging, so based on that, it's surprising to say Jimmy P. succeeds as well as it does. French director and co-writer Arnaud Desplechin (who wrote the film with Julie Peyr and Kent Jones, respectively) does all he can to make the film as absorbing as possible, and for the first hour or so, his efforts are effective, as we watch Jimmy and Devereux invest in some great conversational banter that is geared more towards cultural relativism than it is in trying to structure cheap and expected payoffs. However, the film runs out of gas when you realize just how stiff and frequently dull the material gets. Perhaps it really is no fault of the trio of writers, nor Desplechin himself, but the fact that the ideas presented in the film are difficult to make engaging on an entertainment level.Jimmy P: Psychotherapy of a Plains Indian works for a little while because it's interesting to see how a significant subsector of psychology was born by a doctor who was clearly interested in learning about different walks of life and the makeup of cultures and people of groups he didn't belong to. Amalric embodies the mindset of an anthropologist/psychologist quite nicely here, effectively making for a character we can appreciate. However, the stiffness of the film catches up to it, with the film's discussions in its second and third act becoming greatly long-winded and the entire project slowly running out of steam before reaching the conclusion. Rather than rewarding and captivating, the ending comes off a long-awaited conclusion to a film that was so close to making a film about psychology absorbing for two hours.Starring: Benicio Del Toro and Mathieu Amalric. Directed by: Arnaud Desplechin.

An intellectual labor of love in which the director tries to recreate the psychotherapeutic relationship between a French psychoanalyst (in reality a Hungarian-German Jew who converted to Christianity) and a Blackfoot Indian vet suffering from inexplicable symptoms in the late 1940s in a VA hospital in Topeka, Kansas.Played by Benicio del Toro (who is Puerto Rican) and Mathieu Almaric (who is half-French half-Polish Jewish), the film drags at times but does delve into some interesting psychological (although of course it goes *much* more seamlessly/painlessly than most analyses in reality).Almaric's character wins over Del Toro's with his initial knowledge of Native American cultures (actually Mojave but there are parallels to the Blackfoot). From there he tries to synthesize his anthropological knowledge with what seem to be a pretty standard fare of sexualized Freudian clichés (witnessing the primal scene, explicit discussions of vaginas (which I thought Del Toro's character spoke about far too easily for the mores of that day and age)).The relationship between the two men are supposed to be a life-changing event but I felt the film fell a little short in depicting that reality (also a film review (for which I know the director is not responsible) described their friendship as resulting from their both being outsiders, but Almaric's character never reveals his true background (his lover mentions at one point the fact that he changed his name but that is it, perhaps there were other scenes that didn't make it past the editor (I went to the premiere in NYC with the director and main actors and they said there are a lot of scenes that got cut)).In the latter part of the movie there are strong hints that Jimmy's (Del Toro's character) headaches, fits of rage and alcoholic binges are the result of systematic sociopolitical mistreatment of native Americans but the subject is only strongly hinted at, not really discussed explicitly by Jimmy in any deep or meaningful way. This was to me perhaps more interesting than the anthropological Freudianism of the first 90 minutes of the film, but the director was trying to adhere to a book on the subject and real-life events (psychology back then was even more grossly unaware of psychopolitical factors compared to now).Perhaps subtly discourages the notion that Jimmy is suffering from PTSD (a diagnosis which did not exist at the time, but the phrase "shell shock" is not used either) because he never saw combat or killed anyone (he was involved in mine-clearing operations after the German retreat). Also interesting insofar as his injury was to his head, thus perhaps implicitly challenging the often presumed relationship nowadays in vets between TBI (traumatic brain injury) and PTSD? (Then again the director was following real-life events so I don't know his intentionality.)A worthwhile film but a little odd insofar as it (to me) underemphasizes the ethnocultural forces in the characters in favor of a "special friendship" (in a universalized way) despite the fact that it is the decultured nature of American psychiatry which was at the root of doctors' inability to help Jimmy in the first place. Also couldn't stand the way a couple of actors (thinking of Almaric and Joseph Cross specifically) who think that acting means being as anxious and/or intense as possible in every scene.P.S. The film does drag a bit (114 minutes) (I'm not someone who normally complains about "art-house" films with slower (French) pacing either.)