Hayley Kiyoko has done it again. The 35-year-old queer artist, affectionately dubbed “Lesbian Jesus” by her devoted fanbase, has successfully transitioned from music videos to feature films with Girls Like Girls. What began as a groundbreaking 2015 music video—an iconic piece of content that amassed over 163 million YouTube views—has now been expanded into a full-length theatrical release hitting cinemas on June 18 through Focus Features.
The pressure was substantial. This directorial debut from a beloved queer creative needed to satisfy longtime fans while standing on its own as cinema. Kiyoko’s adaptation carries the weight of representation, arriving at a time when LGBTQ audiences actively seek inclusive entertainment experiences. The cultural landscape has shifted dramatically since 2015, when same-sex marriage became legal nationwide, making this release both nostalgic and politically relevant.
Does the film deliver? Let’s dive into everything you need to know before heading to theaters.
Synopsis
Set in 2006, Girls Like Girls follows Coley (Maya da Costa), a grieving teenager who relocates to Oregon to live with her estranged father (Zach Braff). While navigating her new suburban life, Coley encounters Sonya (Myra Molloy), a magnetic yet emotionally unavailable young woman who becomes the object of her affection.
The narrative mirrors Kiyoko’s original music video closely, featuring many of the visual callbacks that longtime fans cherish—shimmering pools, yellow bicycles with butterfly handlebars, and longing glances across open fields. The story explores themes of shame, self-acceptance, and the complicated transition from friendship to romance.
Kiyoko expands the musical landscape beyond her namesake track, incorporating early 2000s influences from artists like Imogen Heap, Tegan and Sarah. This creates a nostalgic atmosphere reminiscent of early millennium coming-of-age dramas, appealing to both Millennials who grew up alongside Kiyoko and Gen Z viewers currently immersed in Y2K nostalgia.
Performances
Maya da Costa delivers a notably compelling performance as Coley, effectively conveying the internal turbulence of first love without relying heavily on dialogue. Her expressive presence captures the dizzying realization that a meaningful friendship has transformed into something far more complex.
Myra Molloy, however, faces challenges as Sonya. The character frustratingly maintains emotional distance throughout much of the film, leaving the romantic tension feeling underdeveloped at times. While the “push and pull” dynamic represents a classic queer narrative trope, the chemistry between the leads doesn’t consistently burn hot enough to fully justify the emotional pain depicted.
Zach Braff provides solid grounding in his role as Coley’s father, though he occasionally feels disconnected from the youthful energy surrounding him. The family dynamics scenes, particularly those exploring themes of shame and acceptance, provide some of the film’s most emotionally resonant moments.
Behind the Lens
Kiyoko’s directorial vision clearly stems from personal nostalgia. Rather than casting herself in the film, she wisely chooses to remain behind the camera, allowing new actors to embody characters that mean so much to her community.
The film works best when Kiyoko abandons conventional straight coming-of-age filmmaking tropes. Her most inspired directorial moments occur when she focuses on the specific internal chaos that has always defined her lyrics. The screenplay truly comes alive during an intense confrontation scene that forces the characters to acknowledge their mutual attraction, offering one of Kiyoko’s clearest narrative perspectives.
Unfortunately, the adaptation doesn’t always successfully translate the original music video’s intimate charms to a larger theatrical canvas. Certain visual shorthand choices—framing scenes through body-focused beauty emphasis rather than interior emotional experiences—feel borrowed from heterosexual romantic comedies rather than authentically queer.
The retro musical needle drops demonstrate sophisticated cultural understanding, successfully evoking an era without relying solely on Girls Like Girls as a feature-length greatest hits package.
Final Verdict
Girls Like Girls functions less as a declaration of Kiyoko’s emergence as a major feature filmmaker and more as a heartfelt tribute designed to comfort her dedicated fanbase. That purpose isn’t inherently problematic—this film wasn’t necessarily made for mainstream crossover success.
For longtime Kiyoko followers, the adaptation offers genuine emotional satisfaction. Queer couples and friend groups will likely find meaning in the shared theatrical experience, processing the story’s ending together long after credits roll.
However, viewers unfamiliar with the source material may find the narrative thin and potentially feel excluded from references that resonate primarily with invested fans. The film requires existing affection for Kiyoko’s universe to fully connect.
Queer cinema has evolved dramatically over the past decade, and Girls Like Girls represents a specific kind of nostalgic devotion rather than revolutionary filmmaking. Yet there’s something admirable about Kiyoko’s commitment to preserving community memory through this labor of love.
If you’re seeking a feel-good queer movie experience this summer that celebrates sapphic culture, Girls Like Girls delivers—though it asks that you meet it halfway with some pre-existing investment in its world.
