'Girls Like Girls' review: Brings back all the feelings of the first attraction

The blush of first love within the glow of a new friendship is where “Girls Like Girls” displays its quiet charms, but also a poignant sadness. You'd never mistake pop star Hayley Kiyoko's directorial debut for a groundbreaking queer romance, but sometimes the best summer vibes require just a refreshing drink, something made of all the fun feelings, some of the deepest, and a whole lot of heart.

That also describes Kiyoko's shepherding of her 2015 hit song “Girls Like Girls,” an LGBTQ+ anthem that went from a viral music video (which she co-directed) to a best-selling YA novel and, finally, this film adaptation, written with Chloe Okuno and Stefanie Scott (the star of the original video). “Girls Like Girls” may be imagined conventionally, but there's an admirable focus on unadorned warmth in Kiyoko's storytelling: She likes her girls and cares enough to want us to like them too.

We're dropped off in scenic rural Oregon, where we meet Coley (attractive newcomer Maya da Costa), a new kid riding a bike in town, who meets an energetic crowd of fellow students at a local restaurant, then a confident and friendly Sonya (Myra Molloy) asks him to join them for a trip to the lake (“We Don't Bite”). When shy, watchful Coley is thrown into the water by the unpleasant Trenton (Levon Hawke), she tries to leave, but not before Sonya softens the blow by insisting on a “proper hang-up” and the exchange of AOL usernames. (Because, oh yeah, it's 2006, which gives us a refreshingly nostalgic break from the tyranny of the smartphone.)

Anyway, SonyeahXOXO and RollieColey87 quickly pick up on their obvious spark, initially sublimating that deeper attraction through scenes of laughter, teasing, the rush of stolen alcohol, bed-sharing, and plenty of deep staring. But they also rely on a connection marked by honesty and vulnerability, particularly Coley's grief over losing her mother and not feeling connected to her widowed father (Zach Braff). With Sonja Tyspin's cinematography imbuing an innocent and sensual curiosity, Kiyoko sweetly conveys the uncomfortable excitement of budding emotions. One scene in particular, in which Coley explores Sonya's room, touching everything, vibrates with the strange thrill of being a specially invited new confidant.

But the day after the couple's unspoken attraction turns physical—a scene cleverly extended into “Kiss Now!” boundaries: A confusing tension enters the chat, sending Coley into a tailspin of self-doubt. A lesser film might have pivoted to assure us a happy makeup, but “Girls Like Girls,” which remains focused on Coley's point of view, understands that at the heart of her pain is a neglected self-acceptance that must be addressed first. Da Costa makes this journey with unforced naturalism, as if the camera were there to capture it. (Molloy reveals more studied star power, but is still a solid other half.)

Mostly, “Girls Like Girls” wins us over with a singular kind of first-movie confidence: a family story presented as the most personal revelation ever made. If you don't remember what it was like to try to tiptoe while you passed out, your heart barely able to stay in your chest, you were never a teenager.