Written by Daniel Burman and Ariel Gurevich, and directed by Burman, this film about trans identity at the cross-section of religion is now streaming on Netflix.
The Gist: As a young boy, Ruben rejected his bar mitzvah, wanting to come of age in his true identity: a female performer Mumy. Years later, Mumy is living as her true self and has become a huge international singer. She returns to her childhood home in Argentina just as her father is dying and his death inspires her to finally have a bat mitzvah, but her trans identity makes it difficult for conservative rabbis and synagogues to agree to hold the ceremony. Her older brother searches for a place that will accept Mumy, taking them all the way to Spain where their ancestors once lived to finally celebrate Mumy for who she is.
What Will It Remind You Of?: Despite not having any plot similarities, the tender, loving, and complicated relationship between siblings at the heart of Transmitzvah is reminiscent of The Skeleton Twins.
Performance Worth Watching: Penelope Guerrero’s central performance as Mumy is filled with confidence, and equal measures of love and hurt that make the entire thing believable.
Memorable Dialogue: “I don’t need to be tolerated,” Mumy says to a transphobic rabbi at the synagogue. “I’m neither gluten nor lactose.”
Sex and Skin: None here.
Our Take: Many queer narratives follow a familiar formula. There are coming out stories, plots about unsupportive parents and families, and ones that touch on leaning on your found family. It’s refreshing that Transmitzvah doesn’t really tread in these waters—at least, not entirely.
When the Argentinian film begins, it seems destined to go down this road. Ruben, who will later become Mumy, can’t hide his predispositions towards wearing dresses and lipstick. His father is deeply disturbed by this, and the distance between them grows even further when Ruben rejects his bar mitzvah, wanting to have a bat mitzvah instead. But once the film flashes forward to Mumy’s adult life, the film begins to take a different shape: one of sibling bonding, of trying to reconnect with religious roots that seemed to reject the very idea of Mumy’s existence.
The performances in Transmitzvah, from Penelope Guerrero’s central Mumy to Juan Minujin’s role as her down-on-his-luck bother Eduardo, carry the film’s open heart on their sleeves. As Mumy returns home for the first time in years, there is an immediate warmth between them—it’s clear that Eduardo was one of the few links she still had to her home and youth. In true sibling fashion, they support each other but also feel comfortable enough to call each other out when someone is acting out of line.
Midway through the film there is a scene in which Eduardo finally calls Mumy out for her selfish behavior, which had, to that point, been my biggest gripe with the film. Mumy waltzes into town, grieves her father, and decides she wants a bat mitzvah, but then expects her brother to take care of all of the details. She’s rude to him, and rejects every idea he has, even as he goes to great lengths to find inclusive rabbis that would happily perform her bat mitzvah. In a cathartic scene, he finally says what’s on his mind. Even though she doesn’t immediately admit that she’s been a nightmare to everyone in her life recently, it’s a talk that only siblings can have, and it’s captured beautifully across the script, performances, and direction.
Ultimately, Transmitzvah is a deeply emotional and heartfelt look at the entanglement between queer identities and religion. What does it mean to not fit within the binaries that we’ve been taught? What do you do when your religion rejects you? How do you find a space for yourself in an ever-changing and increasingly violent world? For Mumy, the answers are all the way at the beginning.
Our Call: STREAM IT. The central performances are not to be missed and the story is a feel-good narrative.
Radhika Menon (@menonrad) is a TV-obsessed writer based in Los Angeles. Her work has appeared on Vulture, Teen Vogue, ELLE.com, and more. At any given moment, she can ruminate at length over Friday Night Lights, the University of Michigan, and the perfect slice of pizza. You may call her Rad.
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