Tall Girl 2

There was a moment in 2019 when the internet collectively decided that being a six-foot-one blonde teenager was the greatest tragedy known to modern man. The original Tall Girl became a viral punching bag, famous for its earnest attempts to equate height with true social ostracization. So, when Netflix greenlit a sequel, the collective groan was audible across Twitter. But here’s the thing about the "streaming era" we’re living in: a film doesn’t need to be a masterpiece to get a second chapter; it just needs enough "hate-watches" and "ironic memes" to satisfy the algorithm’s thirst for engagement.

I sat down to watch Tall Girl 2 while wearing two mismatched socks—one with ducks on it, one plain grey—mostly because I’d given up on the laundry, and that level of "just good enough" energy turned out to be the perfect headspace for this movie. It’s a sequel that tries desperately to pivot from the "woe is me, I’m tall" narrative of the first film into a more relatable story about anxiety and the "imposter syndrome" that follows sudden popularity.

The Anxiety of the Algorithm

The story picks up right where the first one left off. Jodi Kreyman (Ava Michelle) is no longer the slumped-over pariah of her high school. She’s popular, she’s dating the "short king" Jack Dunkleman (Griffin Gluck), and she’s finally landed the lead in the school musical, Bye Bye Birdie. However, because a movie needs conflict and Jodi’s height is no longer a viable villain, the screenplay introduces "The Voice." It’s a literal internal monologue of self-doubt that whispers insecurities into Jodi’s ear, manifesting as a blurry, looming shadow in the background of scenes.

It’s an admirable, if incredibly on-the-nose, attempt to tackle mental health. Ava Michelle actually puts in a more grounded performance this time around. She’s a talented dancer and singer, and when the movie lets her actually perform, it feels like we’re watching a real human being rather than a walking metaphor for "differentness." But the script constantly undermines her. Every time Jodi starts to feel like a three-dimensional character, she’s pulled back into a romantic subplot that feels like it was written by a chatbot fed exclusively on early 2000s Disney Channel scripts.

The supporting cast does what they can with the thin material. Sabrina Carpenter, who has since skyrocketed to pop superstardom, is arguably overqualified for her role as Jodi’s pageant-obsessed sister, Harper. She brings a comedic timing that the rest of the film sorely lacks. Meanwhile, Griffin Gluck remains charmingly weird, though his chemistry with Michelle feels more like "supportive cousin" than "romantic lead" this time around.

A Theater Kid’s Fever Dream

What’s fascinating about Tall Girl 2 is how it reflects the current state of Netflix’s "Original Film" factory. With a budget of over $24 million, the production values are sparkling. The lighting is perpetually golden-hour, the costumes are impeccably trendy, and everything has that clean, slightly sterile look that defines the streaming aesthetic. It’s a film designed to be watched on a phone or in the background of a study session.

Director Emily Ting takes the reins here, and you can see her trying to inject some indie sensibility into the franchise. There’s a greater emphasis on the ensemble, including Kimmy Sticher (Clara Wilsey) and Schnipper (Rico Paris), who undergo some surprisingly decent (if rushed) redemption arcs. The decision to make the film a semi-musical also helps. It gives the movie a literal stage to play on, and the rehearsals for Bye Bye Birdie provide a better structure than the first film’s aimless wandering. The most realistic part of this movie is that being tall doesn't actually solve your personality problems, even if the movie still insists on treating a teenage girl's height like a rare medical condition.

The Stuff You Didn’t Notice

Interestingly, this sequel arrived during a major shift in how Netflix handles its teen content. By 2022, the "franchise fatigue" of the Kissing Booth and To All the Boys era was setting in. Tall Girl 2 feels like a legacy sequel to a franchise that was only three years old. Apparently, the production had to navigate significant COVID-19 protocols, which might explain why so many scenes feel weirdly isolated or focused on small groups.

Another fun detail: Ava Michelle is actually a professional dancer (some might remember her from Dance Moms), and the "dream sequence" dance numbers were choreographed specifically to utilize her long limbs in a way that feels graceful rather than awkward. It’s a subtle "meta" commentary on her career—taking the very thing people mocked her for and turning it into her primary strength. Despite this, the movie still feels like the cinematic equivalent of a lukewarm glass of oat milk: it’s perfectly fine, it won’t hurt you, but you’ll forget the taste about ten minutes after you’re done.

Ultimately, Tall Girl 2 is a movie that exists because the first one was a successful "content unit." It’s better than its predecessor because it actually attempts to give its lead character an internal life, even if that life is portrayed through a literal whispering shadow. It’s harmless, colorful, and entirely predictable. If you’re a fan of the first film or just need something to watch while you fold laundry (and look for your matching socks), it’ll do the job. Just don’t expect it to stand as tall as its protagonist.