QUICK AND DIRTY: LIVE FROM KARLOVY VARY
It’s hard to make a film that’s snappy, fun, luminous, and queer – all at once. But Emma Hough Hobbs and Leela Varghese pull it off. This debut feature is a radical addition to the canon of animated sci-fi. It both satirises and reclaims genre tropes. Set against the rainbow-coloured, utopian city of Clitopolis, this hyper-saturated musical adventure follows Princess Saira (voiced with aching charm by Shabana Azeez). Saira must come to the rescue of her endlessly cool and equally vain ex-girlfriend Kiki, after she gets kidnapped by white and straight “Maliens”.
The narrative moves with anarchic energy, structured around a ticking 24-hour countdown. Saira must somehow find the aptly-named Labrys weapon in order to free Kiki. She navigates the cosmos on board a talking spaceship named Problematic (Richard Roxburgh), where she meets a drag diva arms-dealer and a queer pop singer in exile (Gemma Chua-Tran). Non-binary bisexual musician Willow instantly connects with Saira, and their chemistry is explosive. Willow’s mellow acoustic songs drive the narrative forward. Beneath the neon-colored veneer of a camped-up space romp lies a tender exploration of identity, insecurity, romance, and platonic love.
Saira’s parents pressure her to become amatonormative (settle for a conventional, long-term relationship). They believe that this will make their daughter more popular and sociable. But our protagonist doesn’t need a romantic relationship in order to prove her worth. It’s ok to remain quiet and withdrawn, Lesbian Space Princess tells its viewers.
Visually, Lesbian Space Princess fuses nostalgia with rebellion. The handcrafted animations were created on a shoestring budget, and they are bursting with and artistic ambition. Stars, rainbows and background posters embrace maximalism and a deliberately chaotic style. Everything is deliciously awkward and messy. This anarchic aesthetic is vaguely reminiscent of underground zines from the early noughties. Each scene vibrates with shifting tones: sugary pinks, acidic greens, bruised purples, and so on. There is little regard for cohesiveness: the filmmakers don’t care about cohesion, in the traditional sense. The colour palette is as emotionally reactive as the movie’s introverted heroine.
Metaphors become literal. Meltdowns morph into cosmic storms. Romantic tension becomes planetary gravity. Fast editing – more akin to a music video than to a narrative film – supports this fluidity. Michael Darren’s score is infused with electro-pop – this helps to propel characters through psychedelic flashbacks and choreographed combat. The songs are surprisingly simple, unabashedly puerile and weirdly catchy. There is emotional depth and character development underneath all the glam and glitz. This is an incandescent adventure about remaining true to yourself, beyond gender and sexuality norms.
Lesbian Space Princess just premiered in the 59th Karlovy Vary International Film Festival.
