Naomi and Ely's No Kiss List

If you were to bottle the specific essence of 2015—a year defined by Hozier’s "Take Me to Church" on a loop, the rise of the "curated" Instagram aesthetic, and the peak of the YA literary adaptation boom—you’d get something that looks and sounds exactly like Naomi and Ely's No Kiss List. It’s a film that exists in a hyper-stylized, glitter-dusted version of Manhattan where teenagers live in rent-controlled palaces and wear outfits that suggest they’ve never encountered a stain in their lives. I watched this while eating a bag of slightly stale Haribo Goldbears, and honestly, the sugary, slightly-too-chewy experience matched the movie’s vibe perfectly.

Directed by Kristin Hanggi (who famously brought Rock of Ages to Broadway), the film takes the DNA of a Rachel Cohn and David Levithan novel and injects it with a frantic, theatrical energy. It’s the story of Naomi (Victoria Justice) and Ely (Pierson Fodé), childhood best friends who have spent their entire lives building a shared universe to insulate themselves from the messiness of the real world. To protect their bond, they maintain the "No Kiss List": a roster of men who are strictly off-limits to both of them. It’s a foolproof plan until Gabriel (Matthew Daddario) enters the frame, proving that even the most meticulously crafted spreadsheets can’t account for a jawline that could cut glass.

The Myth of the Platonic Soulmate

What I find fascinating about this film in a contemporary context is how it tackles the "Gay Best Friend" trope by trying—and mostly succeeding—to subvert it. In 2015, we were still navigating the transition from the "accessory" version of queer characters to something more substantive. Ely isn't just a sounding board for Naomi’s drama; he has his own interior life, his own frustrations, and a desperate need to carve out an identity that isn't tethered to her whims.

Victoria Justice delivers a performance that is far more layered than her Nickelodeon tenure might suggest. She plays Naomi with a brittle, defensive edge—a girl who uses quirkiness as a shield against the fact that her parents’ marriage is disintegrating. On the flip side, Pierson Fodé brings a genuine warmth to Ely, making his eventual betrayal feel less like a "gotcha" and more like an inevitable breaking point. Their chemistry is the engine of the film, and when it stalls, the whole movie feels the vibration. It’s a portrait of that specific, suffocating brand of late-teens friendship where you love someone so much you’ve accidentally stopped letting them breathe. Naomi is actually the villain of her own movie for the first sixty minutes, and the film is brave enough to let her be unlikeable while she figures that out.

Hipsterisms and the Bruce Contingency

The film’s sense of humor is a direct descendant of the Nick and Norah’s Infinite Playlist school of comedy—a bit precious, deeply entrenched in NYC indie culture, and prone to moments of absurdity. We get "Bruce 1" (Griffin Newman) and "Bruce 2" (Ryan Ward), a naming convention that feels like the most aggressively 2015 hipster thing I’ve ever seen. Griffin Newman, long before becoming a podcasting icon and star of The Tick, steals every scene he's in with a neurotic, motor-mouthed energy that provides a necessary contrast to the glossy leads.

The comedy here works best when it leans into the cringe of being eighteen and thinking you’re the first person to ever discover a "cool" rooftop or a "secret" deli. Kristin Hanggi utilizes bright, pop-art graphics and a zippy editing style that keeps the 89-minute runtime moving at a clip. It’s a visual representation of a Tumblr dashboard come to life. While some of the jokes about "the list" feel a bit dated now—it’s very much a product of a pre-TikTok era—there’s a sincerity to the writing that keeps it from feeling like a hollow exercise in style.

A Time Capsule of a Transitioning Industry

Released during the early days of the streaming shift, Naomi and Ely found its real audience on Netflix rather than in the limited theatrical run it received. It serves as a precursor to the "Netflix Teen Rom-Com" era that would eventually give us To All the Boys I’ve Loved Before. Looking back, you can see the blueprint being drawn: the vibrant color palette, the focus on "authentic" but aspirational lifestyles, and the casting of stars who have massive social media footprints.

The film also features a delightful appearance by Monique Coleman, and seeing a High School Musical alum play a "Girl-Robin" mentor figure felt like a passing of the torch. It’s a movie that understands the importance of its lineage. Interestingly, much of the film’s lasting "internet fame" comes from the casting of Matthew Daddario, who would go on to have a massive following in Shadowhunters. Here, he’s the "Gabriel" who breaks the list, and while he doesn’t have much to do other than look impossibly handsome, he fulfills the role of the "catalyst" with aplomb.

Ultimately, Naomi and Ely's No Kiss List is a charming, if slightly over-caffeinated, look at the messy end of adolescence. It captures that terrifying moment when you realize your "soulmate" might not be the person you’re meant to spend every waking second with. It’s not a revolutionary piece of cinema, but it’s a vivid, colorful time capsule of 2015’s specific brand of romantic optimism. If you’re looking for a breezy watch that reminds you of a time before your social media feed was entirely algorithmic, this is a trip down a very neon-lit memory lane. Give it a shot on a rainy Sunday when you're feeling nostalgic for a New York that only exists in the movies.