Today, I would like to talk about Chica Checa, the new movie from the Czech director Šimon Holý. I had the pleasure of attending a pre-premiere on August 8th during Prague Pride at Filmhub Edison.
Premiered in the Crystal Globe Competition at the 60th Karlovy Vary International Film Festival, the movie stars the well-known Pavla Tomicová and Jan Cina. In the Czech Republic, it has been met with both praise and criticism. Both sides have valid points. Even though it can’t be considered the best LGBTQIA+ movie out there, it is still something highly needed in today’s conversations.
As many have confirmed, Chica Checa is a warm, easy-going comedy. Its portrayal of Czech people is measured enough to be appreciated by foreigners too, yet precise enough to pinpoint, through the villagers, the hypocrisy and double-faced attitudes that fundamentally undermine an otherwise fascinating culture and way of life. In the background lies the magnificent countryside, framed within the timeless stillness of rural routine.
Let’s take a step back: what is Chica Checa about?
From Šimon Holý’s website: “Zdena (Pavla Tomicová), a widowed village postwoman, is overwhelmed by her circumstances and copes with loneliness by eating cucumbers and watching television. Her greatest joy is her son Lukáš (Jan Cina), who lives happily in France, where he has found a great job. To make matters worse, Zdena’s mother Věra (Věra Janků) is dying in the hospital and her last wish is to see Helena Vondráčková live. Zdena begs her son to come and say goodbye to his grandmother before it’s too late. Lukáš’s visit triggers a series of events that reveal not only his secret life and his alter ego Chica Checa, but also Zdena’s desire for a different life than the gossiping neighbors expect of her. The effort to fulfill their Věra’s last wish brings Lukáš and Zdena together. Will they both succeed in their next endeavors? And will Zdena realize that the most important battle we always fight is with ourselves?”
The main critique received by both audience and reviewers (for example from Elena Lazic on Variety[1]) is that the mother seems to accept the coming out too easily and quickly. I consider this a fair point if the aim of the movie had been to dramatize the event and to point out (again!) how loud and negative a coming out to one’s family has to be. But does it always have to be that tragic? Is it always, in real life? Unfortunately, for many queer children, parents still are a source of stress and rejection; for many others, however, parental love proves deeper and more meaningful than societal prejudice. As highlighted by David Acacia in a thorough review for International Cinephile Society[2], Zdena’s initial harsh reaction is rooted not in her own bigotry, but in the revulsion forcibly instilled in her by the society around her. However, it is clear from Tomicová’s remarkable expressiveness that her reaction is really just the shock of having lost the relationship with her only son. As Prachi Bari also writes, “[…] her reaction is harsh, startled, the reflex of a woman whose vocabulary for this has never been built.[3]” Zdena is a woman who’s lost her life companion years before and now is experiencing the last moments with her own mother: Lukáš is the only love she has left. Someone could reply: if Zdena is such a nice, accepting mother, why hasn’t Lukáš come out earlier? It is clear that the guy was scared to death of his parents as well. Why? Because almost all the main narrative around queer people is about parental rejection, and, as someone who grew up in a similarly isolated countryside… I was terrified anyway. How did my own coming-outs (sexual orientation and, later, gender identity) turn out? I was loved, hugged, and never questioned — which is sort of what happens in Chica Checa. The scene in the movie is actually realistic: it should be common, shared within every family. That’s why I consider this movie needed: to help queer kids open up, and to keep loving parents from feeling lonely and uncertain.
The movie is an intimate portrait of a kind mother in an unforgiving Czech Republic: too kind for the neighbours, who invite her only out of pity, because she seems absurdly content with her quiet, solitary life (challenged at one point by her son himself); too kind for the local loser who tries to buy her affection just because she’s a widow; too kind to not feel responsible for her own family, hiding her personal needs.
Despite being mostly atheists, Czechs tend to have a rigid morality and right-wing ideologies very similar to those of fervent Catholics: especially among older generations, you are constantly under scrutiny, both from the outside and from within yourself. In this environment, Zdena is brave, and I respect this character deeply: the moment her rural, antiquated façade starts to crumble (and the broken gutter is a fitting symbol of it), she decides to face it and step out of her comfort zone. I would also like to remark on how the house represents her inner state: tied as she is to "her things," a nice depiction of the classic borderline hoarding typical of her generation (and my parents’, as well), she connects the family’s memories to the house and feels like she would lose the happy past if she changed any detail of it. At the same time, this lack of care makes the balance fragile, until she has a meaningful confrontation with her son who tries to clean up her mess in the attempt to make himself feel better about the recent argument with his boyfriend Remi.
Talking about Remi, I do agree with Nicholas Bell who questioned the limited use of this character[4]. As he points out, we don’t even know the actual core of the conflict that pushes Lukáš to leave France. Aside from that, I loved when Zdena, ashamed and in admiration, says to Remi with a small voice: “I wish I could talk to you” (as she speaks only Czech, and Remi speaks English and French). I loved it because this is the exact thing my mom said when she first met my now fiancé. It melted my heart.
At last, I truly appreciated this movie for many reasons. The representation of queer community (though limited due to the intimacy and focalization of the narration) and drag scene is respectful, never judging or sensational. A quick cameo in the movie has been reserved to Tonic Garbage, the founder and current host, with Just Karen, of Queeriety Show in Prague, loved and renown English-friendly venue welcoming drag kings and queens, burlesque dancers, and any kind of innovative queer performers since 2019.
[1] Elena Lazic, “‘Chica Checa’ Review: Šimon Holý’s Karlovy Vary Competition Entry Is Worthy but Clumsy,” Variety, July 5, 2026, https://variety.com/2026/film/reviews/chica-checa-review-1236801898/.
[2] David Acacia, “Karlovy Vary 2026 Review: Chica Checa (Šimon Holý),” International Cinephile Society, July 9, 2026, https://icsfilm.org/festivals/karlovy-vary/2026-karlovy-vary/karlovy-vary-2026-review-chica-checa-simon-holy/.
[3] Prachi Bari, “KVIFF 2026: Chica Checa (Dir. Šimon Holý): Review,” Film Fest Report, July 10, 2026, https://film-fest-report.com/kviff-2026-chica-checa-dir-simon-holy-review/.
[4] Nicholas Bell, “Chica Checa: 2026 Karlovy Vary Film Festival Review,” IONCINEMA.com, July 6, 2026, https://www.ioncinema.com/reviews/simon-holy-chica-checa-review.