Girls Like Girls, 2026.
Directed by Haley Kiyoko.
Starring Maya da Costa, Myra Molloy, Levon Hawke, Zach Braff, Remy Marthaller, Maya Ford, Alozie LaRose, Hunter Dillon, Wayne Corbeil, Sophia Carriere, and Sierra Sidwell.
SYNOPSIS:
Coley, 17, from rural Oregon, navigates intimacy after her mother’s passing. Meeting Sonya sparks new feelings, but self-doubt hinders their connection. Sonya, unfamiliar with dating girls, is uncertain. They learn to embrace emotions
While co-writer/director Hayley Kiyoko’s Girls Like Girls is an adaptation of her 2023 novel, it is also, perhaps more interestingly, based on a music video for her song of the same name. With that in mind, one has to acknowledge that the musician-turned-novelist now-turned-filmmaker (here working alongside Chloe Okuno on the story and Stefanie Scott on the screenplay, the latter of which mostly known for appearing in the Insidious films) beat most to the punch for a story about complicated romantic feelings during a time when homophobia ran rampant (and was often the punchline for humor) where one half of the party felt the need to repress their identity, afraid to come out about their true sexuality for fear of ostracization by friends and family, even if the narrative ground covered here is beginning to feel overly familiar. For added perspective, I initially thought I received outreach to cover a film I had already seen at Sundance, only to find out they were completely separate movies with similar premises set on different continents.
Despite the fact that the characters, conflict, and trajectories of these stories are starting to feel repetitive, covering the same ground, this one is elevated by a lived-in emotional rawness and Haley Kiyoko’s personal connection to the material. It should be clear to anyone from the very existence of this film alone that it isn’t just a song to her but an artistic creation she felt so deeply about that it needed to be channeled into other mediums, expanding its reach to help whoever might need to experience the story. By the way, that’s another reason that even if it feels like we get two or three of the same movie with this plot every year, it’s not necessarily something worth complaining about, given how important telling LGBTQ stories is.
As for that story, it concerns 17-year-old Coley (newcomer Maya da Costa) amid a life-changing move following her mother’s death, now living with a once-distant father (Zach Braff, a welcome dramatic weapon even with limited screen time) and without a friend circle to call her own. The latter dynamic changes after a bullying incident near a lake, where Sonya (Myra Malloy) follows an upset Coley to apologize for joining in the laughter and to confess that she would like to hang out. It also turns out that Sonya is sexually attracted to Coley and not only closeted regarding her sexuality, but perfectly comfortable staying with a terribly rude and homophobic boyfriend (Levon Hawke), so afraid of anything that could cause him to be perceived as gay that he would rather go on with poison ivy instead of letting her apply a pink ointment.
Moreover, the romantic and sexual attraction is mutual for Coley. However, after exchanging AIM profiles (always an effective time warp that further settles viewers into an era while capturing the jitters of not knowing what to text), the much shyer, inexperienced Coley isn’t sure how to initiate contact. Fortunately, Sonya comes around anyway, flirting and soon engaging in occasional intimacy. It also isn’t long before there is conflict in that Sonya, petrified of what her family and friends would think if anyone found out she is making out with another girl, can’t bring herself together to come out publicly and enter a relationship with Coley, let alone break up with her jerk boyfriend, who can become quite pushy and almost rapey at times.
Both girls also have complicated relationships with parents, with Coley having had an up-and-down relationship with her now-deceased mother, convinced that her father is only trying to be present now because he has been forced back into her life. Meanwhile, Sonya comes across as a bit too much of a relaxed party animal, perhaps in rebellion against her domineering mother, possibly overpushed for excellence in dance competitions. At one point, Sonya says she won’t be able to continue the forbidden intimacy with Coley because she will be going to a yearly dance summer camp, although what’s fascinating is that in the moment, it is unclear if this is a lie or a half-truth, and that she is really going to rehab or her parents are sending her to gay conversion therapy. Regardless, it’s a deeply sad and almost unsettling scene with great amounts of pain conveyed by both Maya da Costa and Myra Malloy. Their emotionally anchoring performances are another factor in elevating familiar material.
Again, this is their story of conflicted emotions that plays out in heartbreak as Sonya is inadvertently messing with Coley’s feelings while trying to understand more about her sexuality. They are teenagers acting like, well, teenagers who don’t quite know what they want yet, or know what they want but don’t have the courage to be themselves. And while there is an original score composed by Jessica Rose Weiss, there are also licensed songs that one can only presume are from Haley Kiyoko, but what sticks out more are terrific uses of era-appropriate classics, such as a song by The Killers during a key emotional beat.
That might be the moment that fully won me over on Girls Like Girls, which sometimes feels less like it was based on a novel and more like it is the story of a music video stretched into 90 minutes in ways that aren’t always substantial. As mentioned before, the performances are rich and the story so personal to Hayley Kiyoko that it is worth spending time with these girls as they attempt to figure out their sexualities and lives.
Flickering Myth Rating– Film: ★ ★ ★ / Movie: ★ ★ ★
Robert Kojder
