Nimona gay characters

Enter: Nimona! (“Oh buddy!” he chides himself, lovingly, in his present day comics, looking back on what he drew and wrote. This Netflix release not only breaks new ground with its heartwarming portrayal of queer love and identity, but also weaves a narrative that is as revolutionary as it is reflective of contemporary times.

“Nimona” is a film translation of N.D.

Stevenson’s acclaimed webcomic and graphic novel to the screen, celebrated widely for its engaging storytelling, humor and inclusive portrayal of LGBTQ+ characters. I’m asking you not to tell them FOR YOU. Not everyone is as accepting as me.”

So when I was watching Netflix’s adaptation of ND Stevenson’s beloved, best-selling graphic novel, Nimona, this weekend, and those exact words came flying off the screen, I had to pause it because I felt like my heart had gotten punched in the face.

That’s how things start off with Nimona (Chloë Grace Moretz) and the other main character in her story, Ballister Boldheart (Riz Ahmed).

Directed by Nick Bruno and Troy Quane, Nimona is based on the popular 2015 graphic novel of the same name by She-Ra and the Princess of Power creator ND Stevenson. One in particular that Nimona has masterfully managed is the inclusion of gay male characters, which, when compared to gay female characters, do not have as much screen time or as many characters to represent them.

For many consumers of queer media, it is far easier to list names of female-presenting queer characters, especially in media directed toward younger audiences.

Ballister and his boyfriend Ambrosius are a queer couple, and the movie hints at their romantic relationship from the beginning. Ambrosius offers the nervous knight-to-be some words of comfort, assuring Bal that, “they are going to love you. (You can see why this wasn’t a good fit for the Disney Princess animated brand.) They both learn a lot about themselves as their hijinks find them working seamlessly, side-by-side, and also find them often at odds, motivationally and ethically, because they want the same thing for vastly different reasons.

I haven’t stopped thinking about coming out, all those years ago, since I watched Nimona.

Happy Last-Day-of-Pride-Month to all of us. In the final scene, their kiss confirms the relationship.

Although the progress creators have made to be inclusive in their projects has been monumental in the ways of media today, there are still plenty of improvements that need to be made. Her shape-shifting alludes to the transformation of gender and the confusion of societal rejections. That is immediately followed by a not-so-silly moment: Ambrosius, in a broken voice, tells Bal that he still loves him, even after all of the fighting.

Their love is not an afterthought, no is it an attempt to earn queer representation brownie points. In the show's cast, main protagonist Adora and antagonist-turned-fellow protagonist Catra are queer women who become a couple in the series finale. Nimona delves deeply into important themes of what it means to be different and misunderstood by those around you and labeled as a "monster." It is truly an emotional rollercoaster that pays off in such a beautifully heartbreaking finale.

While Nimona and Ballister's friendship is the core relationship that the movie puts most of its focus on, there is another relationship that merits examination -- Ballister and Ambrosius Goldenloin's (Eugene Lee Yang).

Right away, Nimona tells audiences this movie is going to be Gay with a capital “G” via a touching scene between Bal (as his boyfriend calls him) and Ambrosius. The romantic relationship of these two knights is portrayed so naturally and without any unnecessary calling out of the fact that they are both men, and they are able to exist in this world with more traits than just being queer.

The Machine,” or where the queer couple is not the center of the story, “Nimona” normalizes love between two men. Ambrosius interrupts the brooding by swooping in for a hug, and then, a sweet kiss on the lips.

It’s not a hot-and-heavy make-out session, but it’s not just a chaste peck on the lips, either. Mirabel’s protagonist offers a rare depiction of a disabled Disney character.