Lesbian Space Princess Review: A Daring Animated Film That Challenges Identity, Power, and Self-Worth

Lesbian Space Princess is not an animated film designed to gently introduce its audience to its ideas. Directed by Emma Hough Hobbs and Leela Varghese, this provocative sci-fi animation chooses confrontation over compromise, using exaggerated symbolism, sharp satire, and unapologetic humor to explore themes of identity, self-acceptance, and power. Premiering at JAFF 2025, the film quickly establishes itself as a work that refuses to dilute its message for mainstream approval.

The story centers on Saira, voiced by Shabana Azeez, a young princess from the all-lesbian planet Clitopolis. Despite being the daughter of two beloved queens, Saira is anything but confident. She is socially awkward, emotionally withdrawn, and painfully unsure of her place in the world. Her inability to wield the sacred labrys axe, a symbol of lesbian strength and pride, becomes a metaphor for her lack of self-belief and unresolved internal conflict.

Saira’s emotional instability deepens when she is abruptly left by Kiki, a fearless adventurer who embodies freedom and confidence. Although their relationship was brief, the breakup sends Saira into a dramatic spiral of despair. The film openly parodies iconic romantic depression scenes from popular cinema, turning exaggerated sadness into a tool for both humor and critique. Rather than mocking vulnerability itself, the film challenges how emotional dependence can consume personal identity.

The narrative takes a dramatic turn when Kiki is kidnapped by a group known as the Straight White Maliens, antagonists whose intentionally provocative name signals the film’s confrontational tone. Their goal is simple and disturbing: to reclaim dominance over women across the galaxy. This threat forces Saira to leave the safety of Clitopolis and confront not only physical dangers in outer space, but also her fear of independence and failure.

Lesbian Space Princess uses extreme visual symbolism to reinforce its themes. Giant robotic enemies shaped like exaggerated phallic forms are controlled by smaller alien beings, serving as satirical representations of oppressive power structures. These designs are intentionally absurd, pushing discomfort into comedy while exposing the fragility and insecurity behind domination and control.

Visually, the film is striking and relentless. Bright blue outlines replace traditional black, and every environment is packed with chaotic detail. Clitopolis itself is boldly shaped like a clitoris, a design choice that leaves no ambiguity about the film’s commitment to reclaiming imagery often considered taboo. The world-building rejects restraint, using excess as a form of political expression.

Music plays a key role in maintaining the film’s rapid pace. Songs composed by Michael Darren and Matthew Hadley function as energetic narrations, often humorously describing events as they unfold on screen. Combined with nonstop visual movement and unfiltered jokes, the film rarely allows the audience a moment of rest. While this constant momentum enhances entertainment value, it may overwhelm viewers unprepared for its intensity.

Throughout her journey, Saira is accompanied by unconventional allies, including a sarcastic spaceship known as the Problematic Ship and Willow, a relentlessly optimistic former gay pop idol. These characters serve as mirrors to Saira’s internal struggle, offering perspectives that challenge her self-doubt and emotional dependency.

As the story progresses, it becomes clear that rescuing Kiki is no longer the true objective. The real transformation lies in Saira’s coming-of-age journey, where she learns that self-worth cannot be derived from validation, romance, or inherited status. By confronting fear and embracing imperfection, she begins to define her strength on her own terms.

Lesbian Space Princess is not subtle, and it has no interest in being misunderstood as neutral entertainment. It is explicit, political, and deliberately polarizing. Viewers seeking gentle storytelling may feel alienated, but those open to bold satire and unapologetic representation will find a film that refuses to apologize for its existence.

Ultimately, this animated feature stands as a declaration rather than a compromise. Lesbian Space Princess challenges power structures, mocks dominance, and insists that identity does not need permission to be loud, strange, or proud. It is a fearless celebration of selfhood wrapped in chaos, color, and cosmic rebellion.