As uninspired as many of them are, Netflix’s teen-targeted romantic comedies have at least one thing going for them: They’ve successfully maintained multiple subgenres largely abandoned by the major studios. These films have been so successful, in fact, that several of them have moved into largely uncharted territory by spawning sequels. Beneath the audible grind of the content mill, there’s something accidentally poignant, even experimental about this shameless franchising. Modern teen movies don’t often turn into ongoing series—with the occasional exception of teen sex comedies, where you can always get horny again—in part because the ones that reach a cheerfully romantic ending are constructing such a fragile illusion. Who wants to see a sequel about that underdog class couple breaking up three months later?
Tall Girl 2 asks a more specific question: What happens to a girl who conquers her insecurity over being really tall as she... continues attending high school? Jodi (Ava Michelle) found self-acceptance, peer respect, and romance in the original Tall Girl, which only felt like it was based on a beloved YA novel from 2002. The sequel initially looks like it will deal in the usual external, superficial threats to the hero’s happiness: Jodi goes out for the lead in the school musical, running afoul of her old enemy Kimmy (Clara Wilsey) and falling into a thin love triangle between her old boyfriend and her new costar. To Tall Girl 2’s diminishing credit, it has more roiling internal conflict in mind.
At times, quite literally: Kimmy’s sniping has nothing on the echoey voice inside Jodi’s head, insisting that she isn’t up to the challenge of singing and dancing in her school’s production of Bye Bye Birdie. It’s believably debilitating, maybe in part because the audience, too, might wonder if that nagging voice has a point: Last time around, Jodi revealed her talent for playing piano, which doesn’t automatically translate to major production numbers, and there’s scant footage of her actually learning anything about this craft. (Then again, Michelle’s fans will know that she was on the TV show Dance Moms, and is obviously being nudged to show off those skills now that Jodi has come out of her shell.)
Jodi’s stress over her theatrical career also tenses up her needy-to-please buddy-turned-boyfriend Dunkleman (Griffin Gluck), the only person named Jack ever to self-identify as Dunkleman instead. The relationship seemed dicey to begin with—not because of the couple’s height disparity but rather Dunk’s whiny nice-guy insistence, which smothers both Jodi and the grounded comedic chops Gluck exhibited on American Vandal. Here, it turns intolerable, forcing both characters to act with confusing thoughtlessness.
If Jodi and Dunk’s insecurities and self-doubt become interesting but abstract challenges to dramatize, Tall Girl 2 is surprisingly successful at rehabilitating other supporting characters, especially those who should have no business sticking around for a sequel. Stig (Luke Eisner), the foreign exchange student who caught Jodi’s eye and broke her heart last time around, has become enthusiastically contrite, desperate to ingratiate himself to Jodi, Dunk, and forever-underdeveloped bestie Fareeda (Angelika Washington). Meanwhile, Kimmy’s former sidekick, Schnipper (Rico Paris), attempts to reform the queen bee’s mean-girl ways. These minor subplots are probably a side effect of casting a 97-minute movie like a four-season TV series. But more importantly, they’re also gently amusing reminders that this is at least nominally a comedy, not an after school special about the effects of panic attacks on the very tall.
Tall Girl 2 tries to dispel its made-for-TV vibe with visual flourishes that look more like blotches. For indoor scenes, director Emily Ting favors a combination of pastels, warm tones, and high-key lighting that either accentuates heavy makeup or simulates it; the characters often look dolled up, their faces washed out even when the colors around them pop. At times, Ting appears interested in making this a more musical, buoyant sequel, but hesitates. Multiple song and/or dance numbers are truncated.
All of which contributes to the feeling that Tall Girl 2, like its Netflix teen-romance brethren, exists in its own cloistered yet not especially stylish world. There’s a sweetness to the movie’s multiple storylines about teenagers earnestly, supportively pining for each other—and a neutered prudishness, too, about how none of these 17-year-olds seem to think about sex for even a second. One potential advantage to an ongoing series of teen movies is the ability to acknowledge the rollercoaster tumult of growing up, and how stories of youth don’t necessarily feel resolved just because prom, graduation, or the school play happened. Two movies in, the Tall Girls just want to have fun.