When To All the Boys I’ve Loved Before premiered on Netflix in 2018, it didn’t just launch a hit rom-com—it quietly reset expectations for YA romance in the streaming era. Lana Condor’s Lara Jean felt refreshingly specific yet universally relatable, and the film’s warm, diary-like tone cut through an algorithm-heavy landscape hungry for comfort viewing. Suddenly, Netflix wasn’t just a distributor of teen movies; it was the home of a full-fledged romantic franchise people actually wanted to grow up with.
What makes the To All the Boys franchise endure is how clearly it tracks the evolution of both its heroine and its audience. Across three films and a spinoff series, the story wrestles with first love, growing ambition, long-distance doubts, and the uneasy transition into adulthood. Not every installment sticks the landing, but each reflects a distinct phase of streaming-era storytelling, where immediacy often competes with longevity and charm can matter as much as polish.
That’s why ranking all four entries isn’t just about picking favorites—it’s about understanding impact, rewatch value, and what each chapter contributes to the franchise’s legacy. Some installments thrive on spark and simplicity, others strain under expansion, and one dares to ask what happens after the fairy tale ends. In revisiting them now, the hierarchy becomes clearer, and so does why this small, sincere series still holds a meaningful place in Netflix’s original canon.
How We Ranked Them: Criteria for Quality, Cultural Impact, and Rewatch Value
Ranking the To All the Boys franchise meant balancing heart with hindsight. These aren’t standalone rom-coms competing in a vacuum; they’re chapters in a shared emotional timeline that grew alongside its audience. To fairly stack them, we looked at how well each installment works on its own and how meaningfully it contributes to the larger Lara Jean universe.
Overall Quality: Craft, Chemistry, and Confidence
First and foremost, we judged basic filmmaking fundamentals. That means narrative cohesion, pacing, tonal consistency, and how confidently each entry executes its romantic and coming-of-age beats. Performances mattered too, especially chemistry, since this franchise lives or dies on whether the emotional stakes feel earned rather than rushed.
We also weighed how well each installment understands its own scope. Some stories benefit from intimacy, others from expansion, and a few struggle when ambition outpaces clarity. The strongest entries know exactly what kind of love story they’re telling and never lose sight of it.
Cultural Impact: Moment-Making and Staying Power
Not all franchise chapters land with the same cultural force, and that matters in a streaming era driven by conversation. We considered which entries sparked genuine buzz, launched careers, or shifted Netflix’s approach to YA storytelling. Influence isn’t just about popularity; it’s about what people remember, quote, and revisit years later.
We also looked at representation and resonance. The franchise’s significance as a mainstream Asian American-led rom-com can’t be overstated, and some installments lean into that legacy more thoughtfully than others. Cultural impact here is as much about visibility as it is about emotional connection.
Rewatch Value: Comfort, Charm, and Longevity
YA romances live on rewatchability, so we paid close attention to how each entry holds up once the novelty fades. Does it still feel cozy, swoony, or emotionally satisfying on a lazy Sunday rewatch? Or does it feel overly plot-driven, better remembered than revisited?
Tone played a big role here. Installments that prioritize character moments, humor, and lived-in romance tend to age better than those weighed down by overcomplication. The most rewatchable entries feel like slipping back into a familiar emotional rhythm.
Franchise Contribution: What Each Chapter Adds or Risks
Finally, we assessed how each installment expands or challenges the franchise’s core identity. Some entries deepen the emotional arc, others experiment with scale, and one boldly asks whether this world can exist beyond its original love story. Risk-taking isn’t a flaw, but it does come with trade-offs.
In ranking them, we rewarded chapters that feel essential rather than obligatory. Whether through closure, evolution, or reinvention, each entry was judged on how necessary it feels to the To All the Boys legacy as a whole, not just how much screen time it fills.
Rank #4: ‘To All the Boys: Always and Forever’ — A Divisive Farewell to Lara Jean
Ending a beloved YA trilogy is a tall order, and Always and Forever never quite decides what kind of goodbye it wants to be. It’s glossy, sentimental, and full of romantic intent, but it also feels surprisingly scattered for a finale meant to bring Lara Jean’s story home. As a result, it lands as the franchise’s most divisive chapter and, for many fans, its least rewatchable.
The film shifts the central conflict from secret letters and fake dating to post-high school reality, with Lara Jean and Peter facing the very adult question of where love fits into life plans. In theory, that’s a natural evolution. In practice, the execution often prioritizes drama over emotional clarity, making the romance feel strained rather than earned.
When Growing Up Becomes the Villain
Always and Forever hinges on Lara Jean’s college dilemma, particularly her fixation on New York City as a symbol of independence and destiny. While relatable, the film leans so hard into this conflict that it sidelines the couple’s chemistry, turning Peter into more of an obstacle than a partner. What once felt like a mutual love story starts to resemble parallel emotional arcs that rarely intersect.
That imbalance is especially noticeable given how carefully earlier entries nurtured their bond. Peter’s frustration is understandable, but the script often frames it bluntly, leaving little room for the tender communication that defined the franchise at its best. Instead of watching two people grow together, we watch them pull apart and hope it resolves in time.
Beautiful Places, Uneven Payoff
Visually, Always and Forever might be the series’ most polished installment. The New York sequences and the Korean trip add scale and cultural texture, reinforcing the idea that Lara Jean’s world is expanding beyond her childhood bedroom. These moments are lovely to look at, but they sometimes play like a travel montage rather than emotional milestones.
The film wants to be about choosing yourself without losing love, yet it rarely slows down enough to sit with that idea. Big decisions happen quickly, and emotional turns feel rushed, especially for a story meant to provide closure. By the time the final choice is made, it’s more relieving than cathartic.
A Farewell That Feels More Final Than Fulfilled
As a closing chapter, Always and Forever does offer resolution, but not quite resonance. It ties the bows it needs to, yet it lacks the intimate magic that made the franchise a cultural touchstone in the first place. The spark is still there in moments, but it flickers instead of glowing.
That doesn’t make it a failure, just a flawed goodbye. For fans deeply invested in Lara Jean’s journey, it’s worth watching for completion’s sake and for the comfort of returning to this world one last time. Still, when stacked against the rest of the franchise, Always and Forever feels like the chapter that says goodbye without fully reminding us why it was so hard to let go.
Rank #3: ‘XO, Kitty’ Season 1 — Expanding the Universe Without Lara Jean
After Always and Forever closed the book on Lara Jean’s story, XO, Kitty faced an immediate challenge: proving this universe could survive without its emotional center. Surprisingly, it does. By shifting the spotlight to Kitty Song Covey and dropping her into a K-drama-adjacent boarding school romance, the franchise finds fresh energy without pretending it’s the same story all over again.
This spin-off earns its place by understanding that expansion doesn’t mean imitation. XO, Kitty isn’t trying to recreate the soft, diary-like intimacy of Lara Jean’s films. Instead, it leans into heightened emotions, tangled love polygons, and a faster, messier rhythm that feels tailored to episodic streaming rather than feature-length romance.
Kitty as a Lead, Not a Sidekick
Anna Cathcart’s Kitty has always been the franchise’s wildcard, and Season 1 smartly builds the show around that impulsive charm. Kitty is confident, meddlesome, and emotionally loud in ways Lara Jean never was, which gives the series permission to be bolder and occasionally chaotic. That confidence is refreshing, even when it leads her into spectacularly poor decisions.
At the same time, Kitty’s growth isn’t always as carefully plotted as Lara Jean’s was. Her emotional revelations come fast, sometimes too fast, and the show occasionally mistakes volume for depth. Still, Cathcart’s charisma carries the character through the rough patches, making Kitty compelling even when she’s frustrating.
High-Concept Romance With Teen-Drama Energy
Set at the Korean Independent School of Seoul, XO, Kitty instantly widens the franchise’s visual and cultural palette. The school setting allows for new social dynamics, romantic archetypes, and glossy teen-drama aesthetics that feel purpose-built for binge-watching. It’s more melodramatic than the films, but that’s clearly intentional.
Where the season stumbles is in balance. The love triangles multiply quickly, and emotional stakes can blur together as twists stack up. Some arcs feel more like cliffhanger engines than fully realized relationships, which limits the show’s long-term emotional impact compared to the original films.
Why It Lands at Number Three
XO, Kitty Season 1 earns its ranking by successfully keeping the franchise alive without leaning too heavily on nostalgia. It’s fun, addictive, and tonally confident, offering something adjacent to the films rather than a diluted continuation. That alone makes it a win in an era where spin-offs often feel unnecessary.
Still, it doesn’t quite reach the emotional precision or rewatch comfort of the best To All the Boys entries. The heart is there, but it’s buried under twists and pacing choices that prioritize momentum over meaning. As an expansion, it’s exciting and promising; as a standalone story, it’s good, not great, which places it firmly in the middle of the franchise hierarchy.
Rank #2: ‘To All the Boys: P.S. I Still Love You’ — Bigger Emotions, Messier Romance
After the sweetness and simplicity of the original, P.S. I Still Love You deliberately complicates the fantasy. Lara Jean and Peter are officially together, which means the story shifts from yearning to maintenance, a much trickier emotional space for any romance sequel. The film understands that falling in love is easy; staying in love is where things get uncomfortable.
This sequel is more chaotic, more emotionally anxious, and far less interested in preserving the fairy tale. That messiness is exactly why it works as well as it does.
Lara Jean Grows Up, Even When It Hurts
Lana Condor deepens Lara Jean in meaningful ways here, letting insecurity, jealousy, and fear crack her carefully curated optimism. Lara Jean’s struggle with comparison, especially when faced with Gen and the memory of Peter’s past, feels painfully relatable. The film allows her to be unsure without turning that uncertainty into weakness.
What makes this growth compelling is that it isn’t neat. Lara Jean doesn’t always communicate well, doesn’t always make the right call, and often overthinks herself into emotional paralysis. That realism elevates the sequel beyond standard YA territory.
John Ambrose: The Love Triangle That Almost Wins
Jordan Fisher’s John Ambrose is one of the franchise’s smartest additions. He’s kind, emotionally open, and genuinely compatible with Lara Jean in ways that force viewers to question whether Peter is actually the right choice. Unlike many YA rivals, John Ambrose isn’t positioned as a villain or a consolation prize.
The film deserves credit for making the choice feel difficult. For stretches, John Ambrose doesn’t just challenge Peter; he challenges the audience’s assumptions about first love versus right love.
Where the Film Stumbles
P.S. I Still Love You isn’t as tightly constructed as its predecessor. Some conflicts feel slightly manufactured, and Peter’s emotional blind spots occasionally border on frustrating rather than illuminating. The movie also struggles to balance its quieter introspective moments with the rom-com beats fans expect.
Still, these flaws stem from ambition rather than laziness. The film wants to interrogate romance instead of simply celebrating it, and that willingness to risk discomfort gives it lasting value.
Why It Earns the Number Two Spot
As a sequel, P.S. I Still Love You does exactly what it should: it challenges the fantasy without dismantling it. It expands the emotional vocabulary of the franchise, making Lara Jean’s journey feel more adult without losing the softness that defines her. While it may not be as endlessly comforting as the original, it’s arguably more honest.
That balance of romance, insecurity, and growth gives the film strong rewatch appeal, especially for viewers who’ve aged alongside Lara Jean. It’s imperfect, emotionally rich, and brave enough to let love get complicated, which places it just one step shy of the franchise’s peak.
Rank #1: ‘To All the Boys I’ve Loved Before’ — The YA Romance That Defined a Netflix Era
If the sequel questioned the fantasy, the original created it. To All the Boys I’ve Loved Before didn’t just kick off a franchise; it reshaped Netflix’s relationship with YA romance almost overnight. What began as a charming adaptation quickly became a cultural touchstone, proving that earnest, soft-hearted love stories could still feel cinematic in the streaming age.
The Lightning-in-a-Bottle Premise
The setup is instantly iconic: secret love letters, never meant to be seen, suddenly mailed to every crush Lara Jean has ever had. It’s heightened, romantic, and just messy enough to feel believable. From the opening moments, the film understands its own tone, leaning into whimsy without tipping into parody.
Crucially, the story gives Lara Jean space to be awkward, imaginative, and emotionally guarded without mocking her. Her inner world feels vivid and personal, which makes the external chaos land with real stakes.
Lana Condor and Noah Centineo’s Defining Chemistry
Lana Condor’s Lara Jean is the emotional engine of the entire franchise. She brings warmth, specificity, and vulnerability to a character who could have easily been flattened into a rom-com archetype. Every anxious glance and impulsive decision feels rooted in recognizable teenage insecurity.
Opposite her, Noah Centineo’s Peter Kavinsky is charming without being smug and sensitive without losing his edge. Their chemistry isn’t just cute; it’s textured, playful, and emotionally legible, the kind that makes even small moments like a jog or a diner conversation feel loaded with meaning.
A Rom-Com That Knows the Assignment
What truly elevates To All the Boys I’ve Loved Before is how confident it is in its genre. The fake-dating trope is executed with precision, the beats are clean, and the emotional turns are carefully earned. It never rushes the relationship, allowing affection to build through shared experiences rather than grand declarations.
Director Susan Johnson gives the film a soft visual palette that matches Lara Jean’s inner life, while the script balances humor and heart without undercutting either. It’s a rom-com that respects its audience’s intelligence and emotional fluency.
Impact, Comfort, and Endless Rewatch Value
Few Netflix originals have aged as gracefully. The film remains endlessly rewatchable because it understands comfort as a feature, not a flaw. It’s the kind of movie viewers return to during late-night scrolls and nostalgic rewatches, not because it surprises, but because it reassures.
More than any other entry in the franchise, this first film captures a moment in time, both culturally and emotionally. It launched careers, set a tone Netflix would chase for years, and reminded audiences why first love stories endure, not because they’re perfect, but because they feel infinite when you’re inside them.
What Each Entry Does Best (and Worst): A Side-by-Side Franchise Breakdown
To All the Boys I’ve Loved Before (2018)
What it does best is establish tone and chemistry with astonishing confidence. The film nails the rom-com fundamentals, letting Lara Jean and Peter’s relationship unfold with patience, charm, and emotional clarity. Every supporting detail, from the handwritten letters to the cozy suburban visuals, reinforces its intimacy.
Where it occasionally falters is in its simplicity. The stakes are intentionally modest, and some side characters exist more as vibes than fully realized people. But those are minor quibbles in a movie that understands exactly what it wants to be and executes it almost flawlessly.
To All the Boys: P.S. I Still Love You (2020)
The sequel’s greatest strength is its willingness to complicate first love. Introducing John Ambrose reframes Lara Jean’s romantic certainty and explores the idea that timing and choice matter just as much as chemistry. It gives Lana Condor richer emotional material and allows her performance to deepen.
Its biggest weakness is tonal drift. The movie sometimes feels caught between honoring the first film’s grounded sweetness and pushing toward heightened rom-com theatrics. That push-pull makes the emotional arc feel slightly messier, even when the ideas themselves are solid.
To All the Boys: Always and Forever (2021)
Always and Forever excels at capturing transition. The film understands that growing up often means growing apart from the versions of ourselves we’re most attached to. The college decision storyline gives Lara Jean a genuine coming-of-age crossroads, grounding the romance in real-life consequences.
Where it struggles is in pacing and emotional payoff. Big moments arrive quickly, sometimes without enough room to breathe, and Peter’s arc feels more reactive than active. It’s sincere and heartfelt, but it lacks the effortless spark that made the first film feel timeless.
XO, Kitty (2023– )
XO, Kitty’s biggest win is expansion. By shifting focus to Kitty and placing her in an international boarding school, the franchise gains fresh energy, messier dynamics, and a more ensemble-driven structure. It embraces heightened drama and modern teen chaos in a way that feels purpose-built for episodic storytelling.
Its downside is tonal inconsistency with the original films. The series often trades emotional specificity for plot overload, and not every twist earns its weight. While it’s fun and bingeable, it doesn’t always capture the quiet sincerity that defined Lara Jean’s story, making it feel adjacent rather than essential.
The Legacy of Lara Jean Covey and What’s Next for the ‘To All the Boys’ Universe
Lara Jean Covey didn’t just anchor a franchise, she helped redefine what a modern YA romance could look like in the streaming era. Her story made softness feel cinematic, sincerity feel cool, and emotional honesty feel worth prioritizing. In a landscape often driven by irony, To All the Boys reminded audiences that earnestness still hits hardest.
Why Lara Jean Still Matters
What makes Lara Jean endure is specificity. Her love of baking, scrapbooking, handwritten letters, and carefully curated fantasy worlds wasn’t just character flavor, it was worldview. The films treated her inner life with respect, allowing young audiences to see that sensitivity and imagination are strengths, not quirks to outgrow.
Across three movies, Lara Jean’s arc unfolds with rare patience. She doesn’t “win” by getting the boy; she wins by learning how to choose herself without losing the people she loves. That emotional clarity is why the first film remains the franchise’s gold standard and why the trilogy, even at its weakest, still resonates.
How the Franchise Ultimately Ranks
Taken together, the hierarchy feels clear. To All the Boys I’ve Loved Before stands tallest, blending charm, craft, and rewatchability into something close to a modern classic. Always and Forever follows as a thoughtful, if slightly rushed, farewell that understands the weight of endings.
P.S. I Still Love You lands just behind it, admirable for its ambition but uneven in execution. XO, Kitty comes last, not for lack of fun, but because it trades the franchise’s emotional precision for louder, looser storytelling. It’s entertaining, but it exists in Lara Jean’s shadow.
What’s Next for the ‘To All the Boys’ Universe?
Netflix has already signaled that this world isn’t finished, but its future success depends on remembering what worked. The magic wasn’t just romance or nostalgia, it was character-driven intimacy. If future spin-offs or seasons lean into emotional specificity rather than scale, there’s still plenty of story left to tell.
That could mean letting Kitty grow into her own quiet complexity, or even exploring new characters with the same care once given to Lara Jean. Expansion doesn’t have to mean escalation; sometimes it just means listening closely.
In the end, the legacy of To All the Boys isn’t about how many stories it can generate. It’s about proving that small, personal love stories can leave a massive cultural footprint. Lara Jean Covey wrote her letters, sent them into the world, and somehow, they all found their way back to us.