“Princess Cyd” Is the Most Hopeful Queer Film of 2017

If I tell you the premise of Stephen Cone’s Princess Cyd, you’ll think it’s every other lesbian movie you’ve ever seen, which is kind of true. “Rambunctious teenage girl moves in with her Christian aunt and discovers she’s not straight after she meets a barista with an alternative lifestyle haircut” is pretty much its own queer film genre at this point. So yes, you know this story — but you’ve never been told this story this way before. Princess Cyd isn’t interested in the well-worn plot of queer sexual awakening, the torture of figuring out who you are and the fraught path you have to follow to let other people in on your secret. In fact, Princess Cyd isn’t really interested in plot (or secrets) at all. It’s a character study of two women who clumsily and gently brush up against each other and find new happiness because of it. In the process one of them simply realizes she likes girls.

Cyd (Jessie Pinnick) is a 16-year-old soccer star who lives in South Carolina with her depressed dad. Miranda Ruth (Rebecca Spence) is a middle-aged writer who lives in Chicago and moves around literary circles where she’s a star. When Cyd’s mom/Miranda’s sister died, the two of them became estranged. Cyd’s never had a mom and Miranda’s never had a kid. What Cone adds to this trite formula is grace. I don’t mean elegance; I don’t mean charm. I mean charis, that Biblical concept of grace that encompasses kindness and gratitude and favor all at once.

Cone has made a name for himself in film critic circles writing tender-hearted coming of age stories that probe the intersection of faith and sexuality. Princess Cyd is his most generous and mature exploration of those themes. Miranda is a devout Christian, but she’s not dogmatic. She finds joy in her religion, in her worship, in her fellowship — and she uses the mysteries of Christianity as a springboard to explore the other puzzles of the universe, in her own mind and in her writing. When Cyd tells Miranda about the queer barista, there’s no hand-wringing on either of their parts about God. Their only confrontation over religion comes when Cyd asks Miranda if she really believes in a heaven where they’ll both see her mom again.

The queer barista, Katie, is also refreshing. Again, you know the type: mohawk, half-smirk, boots and a short-sleeved button-up with the sleeves cuffed just so. No plan really, just wandering. You see Katie and you think Shane, Shane, Shane — but that’s not it. Katie isn’t aloof or rapacious. Katie isn’t interested in proving anything about Cyd to Cyd. Katie is warm and curious and open and brave with her heart without being reckless. It’s Cyd who kisses Katie first, Cyd who crawls on top of Katie, Cyd who presses for more and then more. Cyd who asks to borrow Katie’s tux and wears it without a hint of self-consciousness to her aunt’s soiree.

No one’s pushing labels on anyone in Princess Cyd either, which feels just right in a movie that’s mostly just pondering. When a film crew mistakes Katie for a boy and Cyd relays the story to Miranda, her aunt shrugs and says maybe Katie is a boy. (Katie is played by Malic White, who told Metro Weekly this summer that they have been “identifying as some kind of trans for a very long time.”) Cyd herself is equally interested in Katie and the gardener son of a lesbian couple who are good friends of Miranda’s, but she never starts to wonder if she should call herself bisexual or pansexual or a lesbian or what. Despite Cyd’s constant needling about it, Miranda isn’t interested in having a boyfriend or even sex and when Cyd pushes too far one night, Miranda explains to her that everyone has their own joy and for some people that joy is sex but for her it’s reading and writing and worship and connecting deeply with her friends in emotional and intellectual ways. She doesn’t call herself asexual, but the hints of it are there. It’s all just so very fluidly and unapologetically queer.

The film isn’t without its flaws. There are easily avoidable plot contrivances, a wildly unnecessary near-sexual assault storyline, and a moment near the end where the filmmaker doesn’t trust his own vision and voice enough to tell this story without putting a stand-in male character into the story to talk about men appreciating complicated women. When you consider those missteps woven into the larger fabric of the film, they’re conspicuous but not defeating.

Princess Cyd has made so many best of film lists, which makes perfect sense to me. In a time of unmitigated chaos, perpetual revelations of horrifying behavior, and a fracturing faith in humanity, Princess Cyd is quiet almost to the point of stillness and deeply generous. It believes women will heal each other and their communities. It hopes. And as 2017 draws to a close, I think we could all use a little more of that.

Princess Cyd is now available on Amazon.

Heather Hogan is an Autostraddle senior writer who lives in New York City with her partner, Stacy, and their cackle of rescued pets. She's a member of the Television Critics Association, the Gay and Lesbian Entertainment Critics Association, and a Rotten Tomatoes Tomatometer critic. You can also find her on Facebook, Twitter, and Instagram.

Heather has written 1045 articles for us.

16 Comments

  1. I just watched this and I was almost going to submit this as a tip to autostraddle or write up a review so it’s so rad it’s already here! Malic’s partner’s mom volunteers with the campaign that I run so that is my Claim To Fame/ how i heard about it. Bless this film for feeling So Real and being sweet and sexy without being A Big Deal.

  2. I saw this on Netflix and almost passed it up, but then remembered this review. I am SO GLAD I watched it! It’s sweet and slow and healing and made me miss the few summers I spent in Chicago, all those backyard parties and beach days in the humidity. Thank you for the recommendation, Heather.

  3. I watched this tonight. It was sweet and kind of sad but in a good way. I like how it didn’t have any cliches (like Heather said the story may be an old one, but the way it was told was new). Nothing about it was predictable, but the way in which it was different was soft and gentle, with the exception of the off-screen almost sexual assault.

    I found it moved a bit slowly at times but I like the fact that Cyd and her aunt got on straight away. It was a bit awkward because they were different people and they didn’t fully relate to each other, but they were both nice to each other and there was no hostility or resentment.

    I thought the almost-sexual assault was well done. I don’t enjoy stories about rape or attempted rape and I am glad it presumably didn’t get that far and that it wasn’t the focus of the plot, but I thought it was a sad but powerful reminder about how easily women can be exposed to that kind of thing. I initially found the brother’s friend annoying and irritating in using his size/strength to “playfully” pick Katie up when she didn’t want him too and it made me vaguely uncomfortable, but it was the later scene that reminded me why men using their strength in a supposedly harmless way is so uncomfortable and threatening.

  4. This movie filled my heart kinda in the way Ghostbusters did. But not at all like Ghostbusters.

    This is a movie I would have loved when I thought I was a straight high school girl, and it is a movie I love now as a queer single adult and it is a movie that the queer teenager I never really was would have loved with all of her entire self.

    I didn’t want it to end where it did, but I’m glad it ended there, because it aches in a way that the story’s not over because life might be long and we are lovely and loving.

    (Although I could have done without the assault part, because I saw it coming from the first scene with him and that foreshadowing just lurked around in my head until it happened.)

  5. Watched this earlier tonight and came here in search of the review after. What a refreshing film. I loved the conversation Cyd and her aunt had about finding their own joy and fulfillment, and that there are no recipes for balance. I’m going to be returning to that one often.

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