Skip to main content
critic Lesbian Space Princess (2025)

Lesbian Space Princess Review: Lo-Fi Animation With a Big Queer Heart

★★★½☆ 3.5/5

Verdict

Messy, horny, sincere — and proudly so.

Is Lesbian Space Princess good?

Yes, by most measures that matter — critics have responded far more warmly than general audiences, and the gap itself tells you what kind of film this is. Leela Varghese’s Australian debut posts a Critic Score of 98 against an Audience Score of just 36, one of the widest splits you’ll see, alongside a Metascore of 70, a 3.0 on Letterboxd, and a 6.1 on IMDb. That spread isn’t a contradiction — it’s a signature of a film built for a specific audience rather than for consensus, and on those terms it’s a success.

What is Lesbian Space Princess about?

It’s a breakup turned into an intergalactic rescue mission, played for equal parts comedy and sincerity. A sheltered space princess is knocked out of her comfort zone and sent on a chaotic quest to save her bounty hunter ex-girlfriend from a hostile faction called the Straight White Maliens. The setup is deliberately silly — the villain name alone signals the film’s satirical target — but underneath the lo-fi animation and raunchy jokes is a straightforward story about heartbreak, courage, and going after someone worth fighting for.

Should you watch Lesbian Space Princess?

Watch it if you’re drawn to scrappy, unapologetically queer genre comedy and can forgive rough edges in the animation; skip it if you need broad, polished crowd-pleasers. At 160 minutes it asks for real patience, and the low Audience Score suggests plenty of viewers found it overlong or too niche for their taste. But the strong Critic Score and solid Metascore point to real craft underneath the chaos — a film with a distinct voice that knows exactly who it’s talking to, even if that’s not everyone.

How does Lesbian Space Princess compare to Undone?

Both works share a scrappy, handmade animation sensibility and a willingness to let visual style lag behind emotional ambition, using a rough-edged aesthetic as a feature rather than a flaw. Undone’s rotoscoped melancholy is a different register from this film’s brash, horny comedy, but the two land in similar territory: animation as a vehicle for identity and interiority rather than spectacle. Where Undone turns inward toward memory and grief, Lesbian Space Princess turns outward into space-opera farce, but both trust that audiences will follow a strange premise if the emotional core is genuine. Fans of one may not automatically love the other, but both reward viewers willing to meet unconventional animation on its own terms.