My Corner

January 2024

As the first few notes played, I sank into my seat with a sigh: “Another musical?”

There is something inherently risky about revisiting a film as iconic as Mean Girls. It is a cultural touchstone, endlessly quoted, memed, and stitched into the DNA of teen comedy. But the 2024 version, adapted from the Broadway musical and Tina Fey’s original screenplay, is beyond a remake. It is a stylish and emotionally sharper reimagining that reflects the anxieties, language, and aesthetics of Gen Z without abandoning the satirical bite of the original.

Cady Heron, played by Angourie Rice, is no longer the fish-out-of-water caricature. Instead, she arrives with empathy, shaped by years in Kenya with her research scientist mother, now explicitly named and acknowledged rather than vaguely attributed to “Africa.” Rice’s performance is sincere, though at times swallowed by the larger-than-life personalities surrounding her.

The real heart of the film belongs to Auliʻi Cravalho and Jaquel Spivey as Janis and Damian. Their friendship is hilariously chock-full of charisma. They narrate the story through song and direct-to-camera commentary, guiding both Cady and the audience through the halls of North Shore High. Cell-phones almost surgically affixed to the palms of every extra in sight, popularity is measured in likes, and reputations can rise or fall with a single post.

Regina George comes into the story like a wrecking ball in heels. Reneé Rapp (undoubtedly the best part of this movie) delivers a performance so commanding and seductive that she practically bends the camera to her will.

The Plastics are rounded out by Bebe Wood as Gretchen, whose solo “What’s Wrong With Me?” turns her insecurities into something awfully relatable, and Avantika as Karen (the second best part of this movie), who plays the ditsy role with more force than finesse. While Avantika struggles to match the breezy charm Amanda Seyfried brought to the original, she manages to keep the energy up.

As Cady integrates into the Plastics, the story unfolds with some familiar beats. There is the forbidden crush on Regina’s ex-boyfriend, the sabotage disguised as friendship, and the gradual unraveling of Cady’s morals. But this time, the emotional stakes are much higher. For example, I found the emotional stakes of Cady and Janis’ fallout far more impactful than the 2004 original.

Visually, the film is almost cartoonishly saturated with color and filtered through the language of Instagram. “Revenge Party” becomes a surreal fantasia of pastels and slow-motion hallway struts, while every fight, insult, and confession is captured on camera by eager classmates. This hyperconnected world is as glamorous as it is fraught, and the film never lets us forget how fast one can become a villain in someone else’s story.

The film stumbles most obviously in its pacing, particularly as it races through Cady’s rise and fall without letting her inner conflict fully develop. Rice’s voice is stunted by autotune, and her emotional transformation lacks the fire and spontaneity that made Lindsay Lohan’s performance instantly iconic. Still, because the story is framed as an ensemble piece, the burden does not fall solely on her shoulders.

What Mean Girls (2024) does best is understand that cruelty, in today’s society, is no longer shouted. Rather, cruelty appears in likes, dislikes, shares, posts, reposts, comments, and replies. Even with more avenues to spread hate, the movie insists that kindness is not weakness. As Fey’s Ms. Norbury explains, “Calling someone ugly won’t make you any prettier. Calling someone dumb won’t make you any smarter.”

While the 2024 movie-musical remake may not reach the iconic status of its predecessor, it does stand confidently on its own. The best thing that I could say about this movie is that it invites audiences to just have fun.