Lesbian Space Princess Review – A vibrant animation film with lots of smile and lots of heart | Animation in Film

IIt is difficult to be a lesbian space princess. In this buzzzy and dizzy, ambitious new Australian animation film, Saira (Shabana Azeez) – once voted is the most boring royal room – a constantly introverted with a passion for close -up magic (she is “good with her hands”). After her heart is thoroughly broken by Kiki (Bernie van Tiel), all finger-guns and sapphic swagger, Saira is broken from but there is no time to cry because Kiki was abducted by the straight white maliens (played by Mark Bonanno, Broden Kelly, SaiRy Ruala) and only Laenny Ruala)) Labrys Can’s legendary Magical Labrys Caned Her.

Except that Saira has never been able to call the Labrys, which is her birthright. And also, of course, a lesbian space princess can cry while she is fighting not only to save her ex, but also her recovers: it is her search – she can cry if she wants.

Written and directed by Leela Varghese and Emma Hough Hobbs, Lesbian Space Princess premiered earlier this year at the Berlin International Film Festival, where it won the Teddy Award for LGBT-related films and the festival circuit before the commercial release continues this week.

Azeez, who won hearts as a medical student Victoria Javadi during the first season of Smash-hit Medical Drama The PittIs the perfect lead for this occasional crazy comedy. She keeps the film based on a candid and self -assured version that grows up and becomes stronger as Saira not only the Maliens tail, but also her own depression and self -doubt, characterized here by an imminent black shadow -rich main monster, always about to swallow Saira in despair.

Saira finds a few great travel companions along the way. There is willow (Heartbreak Highs Gemma Chua Tran), a non-binary musician who seems much more emotional than Kiki once was. And then there is the problematic ship (played with wonderfully Blokey Bluster by Richard Roxburgh), a 21st-century, man-plaining spaceship Sairara Commanders. The ship is loaded with all the misogyny of our time; It wants to drop Kiki in a nail salon because women cannot fly with ships.

The rest of the cast is a WHO’s WHO of the best queer artists of Australia – The queens of Clitopolis are played by comedian Jordan Raskopoulos and deadeline Sami van Deadloch; Reuben Kaye has a cameo on the border of hetero and gay room; And Drag Race down Favorite Kween Kong has a memorable role as Drag Queen called Blade.

Although the starting point Veerlicht sounds, the script is cunning and witty. For every gag that you let moan or crimp (April is “gaypril”; Saira lives in the aforementioned clitopolis, which characters is often difficult to find; there is a literally dancing “royal pussy”), there is a stronger, supereric joke in the way. The script enjoys words of words (the old Thespian/lesbian joke gets a great new runner here) and plays quickly and loose with the expectations of the audience (at one point Saira consults the script to confirm that a Zany plot point really is really).

The stylized 2D animation is fat, sketchy and painted with a clear palette that refers to queer flags. It is stacked with background gags and contains many joyful visual references to other stories about magical girls with magical weapons, such as Sailor Moon or Revolutionary Girl Utena, as well as a few hommages of classic animations and genre films.

The soundtrack is peppered with original guitar numbers – beautiful, folky and knowing – by Varghese, which adds a little emotionally to all the craziness. Saira’s struggles with self-respect and travel to self-love is not new territory, but it is treated beautifully here and Saira feels surprisingly elaborated at the expense of the other characters.

But the real power of the lesbian space princess is that it is a world where both light touches and deep feelings can co -exist: a small jewel of strange joy that promises a less loaded future. Perhaps it is too simple that the incel aliens are not so scary and can be cured by simple strange advice. Perhaps it is too easy for hearts to be restored by a 24-hour magical journey. But as a carbonated, hospitable utopia where a lesbian can save the day, it is a balm, an escape and a much needed smile.