Girls Like Girls

2026 will certainly be remembered as a year of fresh and exciting new voices, with many of its strongest films being directorial debuts (like Obsession and Backrooms). Among them, American singer-songwriter, actress, and author Hayley Kiyoko’s Girls Like Girls excels at capturing a tender, coming-of-age romance between two teenage girls during the summer of 2006. Based on Kiyoko’s own 2023 novel, which she directed and co-wrote alongside fellow actress and singer Stefanie Scott, this adaptation gets close to the heart of a sun-drenched, melancholic, and deeply nostalgic brand of sapphic yearning. It perfectly bottles that distinct mix of first-love euphoria, the mid-2000s indie aesthetic, and the painful push-and-pull of falling for someone who isn’t ready to come out yet. The film recalls the authentic, emotional DNA of genre classics like But I’m a Cheerleader (1999), The Incredibly True Adventure of Two Girls in Love (1995), and Céline Sciamma’s Tomboy (2011)—all works that masterfully depict the cruel friction of navigating a queer romance under the weight of social and peer expectations

Our protagonist here is Coley (Maya da Costa), a vulnerable 17-year-old girl enduring the suffocating grief of her mother’s recent passing. Stripped of an emotional anchor, she finds herself completely detached from her well-meaning but equally adrift widowed father, Curtis (Zach Braff). Sent to stay with relatives in a hazy, sun-drenched suburban landscape during the sweltering summer of 2006, Coley’s isolation is suddenly disrupted when she is drawn into the orbit of Sonya (Myra Molloy). Beautiful, magnetic, and seemingly confident, Sonya represents everything Coley feels she is lacking—sparking an immediate, intense connection that quickly transcends standard teenage friendship.

What starts as effortless summer afternoons together gradually evolves into a discreetly guarded haven for the two teenagers. Sheltered from the judgment of their suburban classmates, Coley and Sonya drift through endless days by the pool, trading mid-2000s indie mix-CDs and whispering late-night secrets. Their bond feels electric on screen; Kiyoko infuses the narrative with a raw vulnerability that feels intensely personal and earned. She bottles the dizzying magic of first romance with remarkable grace—manifested in the charged silences, the sudden jolt of an unintended touch, and a mutual chemistry that proves completely mesmerizing.

Courtesy Focus Features

To cope with her escalating feelings for Coley and shield herself from the terrifying prospect of being outed, Sonya begins overcompensating. She retreats into a performative, toxic heterosexual relationship with a prominent boy in their social circle. This initiates an agonizing psychological push-and-pull for Coley, who finds herself caught in a heartbreaking duality: she is intensely loved and desired in private, bedroom spaces, but completely ignored, looked past, or treated as a casual acquaintance as Sonya grows more distant. Kiyoko genuinely illustrates how the pressure to conform forces Sonya into a state of emotional dissociation, fracturing her bond with Coley.

Girls Like Girls, not surprisingly, uses the technology of its era as a brilliant narrative backdrop. Set in 2006—a time before the ubiquity of social media and when cell phone providers still charged per individual text message—the film captures how young people heavily relied on AIM (AOL Instant Messenger) as their primary lifeline of communication. The way AIM is ingrained into the storytelling is exceedingly clever, recalling the digital intimacy of Miranda July’s 2005 masterpiece, Me and You and Everyone We Know. Kiyoko beautifully observes the girls’ witty text conversations, capturing the agonizing, relatable suspense of Coley eagerly awaiting that iconic AIM ‘door opening’ sound effect just to talk with Sonya. Even when sharing the screen digitally rather than physically, the two leads maintain a magnetic, deeply honest connection.

Courtesy Focus Features

Refreshingly, Kiyoko never allows the material to devolve into cheap shock value or unbearable trauma; instead, she speaks to the audience through a grounded lens, demonstrating that the complexities of repressed identity remain widespread due to the evergreen pressures of conformity and societal norms. She displays immense empathy for her characters, particularly in the domestic scenes between Coley and her father. While their estranged dynamic feels narratively familiar, it is executed with a naturalism that acutely compounds Coley’s internal anxieties.

Ultimately, the primary conflict in Girls Like Girls—its scariest antagonist—is internal perception. The film exposes the terror of being paralyzed by the judgment of others, resulting in an inability to live authentically. While the theme of repression is a foundational cornerstone of queer cinema, the miracle of Kiyoko’s film lies in its profound understanding that love is universal, resilient, and an emotional force that can neither be permanently disregarded nor digitally blocked. Seek this film out.

Girls Like Girls is now playing in theaters