(Credit: Netflix)

Some movies make you laugh. Some make you cry. And then there are Netflix movies like Tall Girl. This is the kind that makes you pause halfway through and ask, “Wait, is this real?”

At first glance, it feels like a parody. A six-foot-one high school girl drowning in existential dread because she is… well, tall? That is the crisis, literally. Not werewolves, not heartbreak, not even academics. Just a mild height inconvenience and an inability to wear heels without towering over her classmates. But the more you watch, the more you realise: Tall Girl is very real, and somehow, bizarrely, it works.

Released in 2019, the Netflix film follows Jodi, a teenager who feels like an outsider purely because she is the tallest girl in school. And the film never lets you forget it. Every hallway interaction, every party, every line of dialogue is a reminder that this girl is “too tall for love”. You would think she was Godzilla the way the camera angles her entrance.

What makes it even more surreal is the casting. Jodi is played by Ava Michelle, a literal 6’1″ dancer who towers over everyone in her high school like a scenic landmark. And her mother? Played by none other than Angela Kinsey. Yes, Angela from The Office, known for her famously “petite” stature and obsession with cats. The irony? She is the aggressively supportive mom of a skyscraper daughter. The visual contrast is unintentionally hilarious. It is like watching a pug raise a Great Dane.

And then there is Sabrina Carpenter, playing Jodi’s older sister Harper. She is short, pageant-pretty, and full of energy. Sabrina gives the only performance that seems to understand what kind of movie this is: one that should be laughed with, not at. Her overly peppy, borderline absurd pageant queen energy is the shot of espresso this vanilla movie desperately needs.

The rest? Predictable. Jodi pines for a hot Swedish exchange student who, obviously, has a thing for short girls. The best friend who has loved her all along wears a size-13 sneaker (subtle), and the final act involves a public declaration of self-acceptance at homecoming. Groundbreaking.

Yet here is the thing: Tall Girl is so clunky, so earnestly awkward, that it becomes weirdly enjoyable. It is the kind of movie that’s perfect for a hate-watch or a group stream where everyone brings wine and running commentary. You know exactly where it is going, and still, you don’t look away.

And if that wasn’t enough, it is also kind of fascinating that Tall Girl got a sequel. Yes, someone at Netflix greenlit a follow-up. Someone watched the final scene where Jodi says, “I like me,” and thought, “What happens next?” Spoiler: more drama about how being tall continues to mildly inconvenience her.

But in a strange way, Tall Girl serves a purpose. It reminds you that not every coming-of-age movie has to reinvent the wheel. Sometimes it just rolls downhill in slow motion, wearing size 13 Nikes, and you can’t help but watch it tumble.

So yes, it is awful. But it is also the kind of awful that dares you not to enjoy it. And if you have ever struggled with being different, even just a little, you will get what it is trying to say, even if it shouts it in size 200 font.