Notice how queer pop culture keeps circling back to familiar beats , Hayley Kiyoko’s Girls Like Girls arrives as a fond, sun-burnt ode to Sapphic longing, but it’s also a reminder that representation alone can’t carry a movie. Who it’s for, what it does well, and where it falls short matter to both fans and newcomers.

Essential Takeaways

  • Strong visuals: The film bathes every frame in warm, analogue nostalgia, giving it a tactile, Instagram-ready look.
  • Dedicated performances: Maya Da Costa and Myra Molloy provide believable chemistry and emotional immediacy despite thin material.
  • Representation-first: Kiyoko’s aim is clear , more queer stories on screen , but depiction often substitutes for plot and politics.
  • Light on grit: The script favours vignettes and mood over narrative heft, leaving some emotional beats feeling unearned.
  • Quiet intimacy: There’s tension and relief in the film’s few romantic moments, though sex scenes are surprisingly restrained.

A visual love letter with a very specific smell of summer

The movie hits you first in the eyes , burnt orange light, analogue textures, and the soft clack of an iPod Classic. It’s a deliberate nostalgia trip, and if you crave the tactile comfort of early-2000s subculture, you’ll recognise the emotional shorthand immediately. The look feels almost tactile, like an old Polaroid you can still smell a little; it’s comforting in a way that often masks narrative gaps.

Kiyoko’s background as a pop auteur shows here. She knows how to frame longing and make music-video moments linger. But leaning so hard on mood means plot momentum takes a back seat, and that trade-off will frustrate viewers who want more than a series of glossy tableaux.

Performances that lift material they didn’t write

Maya Da Costa and Myra Molloy are the film’s beating heart. Their small gestures , a glance, a shared laugh, a breath held before a kiss , sell the film’s emotional stakes far better than lines on the page. When they finally kiss, the scene lands with genuine relief rather than performance articulation.

Still, actors can only do so much. The script offers archetypes and shorthand: a grieving teen with a “textbook lesbian” backstory and an idealised popular girl tied to a boyfriend. Those familiar beats let the leads shine, but they also make you wish for sharper, riskier writing.

When representation is the mission , and the limit

Kiyoko has been candid about why she made this film: we need more queer stories. That’s a worthy mission, especially given how her original song and video became a touchstone for Sapphic teens a decade ago. Representation does real cultural work; it gives people language and belonging. Yet the film often feels content to mark the box of visibility rather than push into the messy political territory that could complicate its sentiment.

There’s a curious depoliticisation at play. Characters feel untethered from institutions , no school politics, almost no family scrutiny beyond a single strained relationship , which makes the film intensely personal but oddly unmoored. It’s as if intimacy were treated as proof of progress, and that alone is supposed to suffice.

Nostalgia as design choice , charming, but limiting

Setting the film in 2006 lets Kiyoko riff on an era when AIM profiles and Tegan and Sara playlists mattered a great deal, and the choice pays off in atmosphere. It’s a savvy way to connect the movie to the fandom that helped the original video go viral. For long-time fans, the callbacks will feel affectionate and true.

On the other hand, anchoring the story in a yearning for a bygone mood keeps it from interrogating grown-up complications. The film prefers the aesthetics of adolescence to the messy realities of adulthood or activism. That decision will land as either deliberate nostalgia or evasive depoliticisation, depending on your expectations.

What to do if you’re curious , how to watch and what to expect

If you loved the original Girls Like Girls video, come for the mood and the chemistry; you’ll likely leave pleased. If you’re looking for plot-driven drama, come prepared for a quieter, mood-first experience. Watch with friends who appreciate queer pop culture history, and let the film be an evening of feeling rather than a robust argument.

For parents, educators, or viewers seeking nuance, note that the movie gestures at conflict without excavating it; conversations after the screening can be as valuable as the film itself. Pair it with documentaries or films that explore queer teens’ politics to get a fuller picture.

It’s a small change that can make every moment of longing feel seen.

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