The Princess Diaries 2001 May 2026

Long live Queen Mia.

Twenty years later, The Princess Diaries holds up not as a guilty pleasure, but as a genuine classic. In an era of reboots and deconstructions, the idea of a film that earnestly believes in the power of posture, honesty, and a grandmother’s love feels almost revolutionary. Anne Hathaway, in her film debut, is a revelation—physically brave in her awkwardness, never winking at the camera. the princess diaries 2001

No teen movie works without a foil, and here we have Lana Thomas (Mandy Moore in a deliciously mean-girl role before she became a wholesome icon). Lana isn’t complex; she’s pure, petty, high-school evil. But the film uses her perfectly. When Lana booby-traps Mia’s podium at the beach party, causing her to fall face-first into a fruit display, it’s not just humiliation—it’s the breaking point. That fall, shot in glorious slow-motion, is the moment Mia realizes that hiding is no longer an option. Long live Queen Mia

The film’s emotional anchor is the icy, regal, and perfectly enunciated Queen Clarisse Renaldi, played with a wink and a steel backbone by the incomparable Julie Andrews. In a career-defining late-era role, Andrews doesn’t play Clarisse as a villain or a cartoon. She is a woman who loves Genovia so much that she has forgotten how to love a teenager. Anne Hathaway, in her film debut, is a

And then there’s the other "villain": Michael Moscovitz (Robert Schwartzman), the boy next door. Unlike the shallow josh (Josh, played by Erik von Detten), Michael sees Mia before the tiara. He gives her a working car. He lends her his Wrath of Khan laserdisc. In the annals of early 2000s teen heartthrobs, Michael is a quiet revolutionary: the smart, loyal, sardonic best friend who actually deserves the girl.

On its surface, the plot is the ultimate fantasy: a geeky, invisible San Francisco high school student discovers she is the sole heir to the tiny European principality of Genovia. But the magic of Garry Marshall’s film isn’t in the royal trappings—it’s in the transformation, not of Mia’s outside, but of her spine.