Hold on. Let me make sure I have this right. There’s an animated movie out there called Lesbian Space Princess, and in it, a sheltered royal has to rescue her bounty-hunter ex-girlfriend from a species literally called “straight white maliens.” Yes, you read that correctly. And somehow, with a title and logline that audacious, the movie still manages to be one of the most wildly uneven theatrical experiences of the year.

Directed by Emma Hough Hobbs in her feature debut, Lesbian Space Princess dropped into theaters on September 11, 2025, with all the subtlety of a glitter bomb going off in a library. It’s 87 minutes of aggressively pink, queer-coded cosmic chaos, and honestly? You’ll either be totally on its wavelength or checking your watch by the twenty-minute mark. There’s not a lot of middle ground.

Here’s the setup: Princess Saira, voiced with earnest, wide-eyed charm by Shabana Azeez, has lived her entire life inside the protective bubble of her two moms - Queen Leanne and Queen Anne, played with regal camp by Jordan Raskopoulos and Madeleine Sami, respectively. Saira is sweet, naive, and about as prepared for the real universe as a goldfish is for a marathon. But when her ex, the swaggering bounty hunter Willow (Gemma Chua-Tran), gets kidnapped by the aforementioned heteronormative aliens, Saira has to suit up and blast into action.

The voice cast is genuinely stacked, which makes the film’s rough edges all the more frustrating. Richard Roxburgh steals every scene he’s in as “Problematic Ship,” a sarcastic spaceship AI who’s clearly seen some things and regrets most of them. Bernie Van Tiel brings a flirty, dangerous energy to Kiki, and Kween Kong’s Blade is exactly the kind of intimidating butch presence that makes you want to get on her good side. These performers are clearly having a blast, and their enthusiasm carries a lot of the film’s comedic weight.

But here’s where things get sticky. The movie’s satire is broad, loud, and often about as pointed as a bowling ball. The “straight white maliens” are, of course, a metaphor for heteronormative patriarchy, but the execution feels less like sharp commentary and more like a series of jokes that were workshopped in a vacuum. A lot of the punchlines land with a thud, and the pacing in the middle stretch drags as Saira bounces from one neon-lit planet to another, picking up allies and learning lessons that feel recycled from a dozen better road-trip comedies.

This is probably why the audience score on TMDb sits at a rough 4/10. It’s not hard to see why. For every moment of genuine wit - the Problematic Ship’s dry interjections are consistently hilarious - there are three scenes that feel like they’re trying too hard to be iconically weird. The animation style is intentionally crude and DIY, which can be charming in short bursts, but over 87 minutes it starts to feel less like an artistic choice and more like a budget limitation.

But here’s the thing about Lesbian Space Princess, and why I keep coming back to it: it is unapologetically itself. In a Hollywood landscape where queer stories are often sanitized, de-sexualized, and made palatable for straight audiences, this movie just does not care. It’s loud, it’s messy, it’s horny, and it’s full of characters who are complex, flawed, and gloriously gay. The relationship between Saira and Willow isn’t just subtext buried under a mountain of metaphor - it’s the actual plot. The movie is about a girl learning to be brave not for a man, but for the woman she screwed things up with.

And that’s got to count for something. When Saira finally confronts the maliens, the resolution doesn’t hinge on a big explosion or a power-up. It hinges on emotional honesty, communication, and the realization that she’s been carrying internalized shame about her own desires. Whether you think that’s beautiful or clunky depends on your tolerance for earnestness wrapped in absurdist packaging.

I walked out of the theater feeling conflicted. I wanted to love it, and I appreciated the fact that it exists more than I actually enjoyed watching it. But there’s an audience out there - young, queer, definitely wearing a crop top - who will watch this and feel seen in a way they haven’t felt at the multiplex in a long time. For them, this will be a cult classic. For everyone else, it’s a fascinating experiment that doesn’t quite stick the landing.

Lesbian Space Princess is currently in theaters, 87 minutes of pure, uncut cinematic chaos. Take it as it is, or leave it. Just don’t say you weren’t warned.