Netflix’s ‘Adolescence’ is essential for all parents

Miniseries examines how we’re failing our teens.

I’m taking some time off film reviews and writings through Lent, but checking in on Sundays to talk about what’s on my mind.

A few weeks back, I saw several TV critics saying good things about Netflix’s miniseries Adolescence and made a mental note to circle back to it when I had time. Friday, two friends asked me if I had watched it, which I took as a sign that I should start it this weekend. I ended up bingeing through all four episodes on Friday and Saturday. In a year of great TV, it’s the most accomplished series I’ve seen so far, and possibly the first I’d label as “essential.”

Created by Jack Thorne and Stephen Graham (who also co-stars), with every episode directed by Philip Baranthi, the show centers on a British family awakened one morning when police burst into their house and arrest their 13-year-old son Jamie (Owen Cooper) for murder. The first episode follows the family as they head to the police station and begin to learn the circumstances behind the arrest. Subsequent episodes take place in the days, weeks and months following the arrest. One episode follows the police as they head to Jamie’s school in an attempt to gain more information. Another focuses on an interview between Jamie and a psychiatrist (Erin Doherty). The final episode, taking place a year after the first, follows Jamie’s family and the aftermath of all they’ve been through.

The “hook” for the series – although I hesitate to call it that, since this isn’t a gimmicky show – is that every episode is filmed in one unbroken take, which the creators have stressed uses no cutaways or edits. It’s an astonishing technical, logistical and artistic feat. Several of the hour-long episodes follow the characters long distances across town, often switching to follow different characters as they cross paths. Episode two includes not only a foot chase through the London suburbs but also a final moment that somehow manages to go from one location and then fly over to another, and I have no idea how they pulled it off.

And yet, even more astonishing may be that as remarkable a technical achievement it is, the one-shot approach never distracts from the unfolding drama. Its use is to immerse us in the story and maintain a tight focus on its characters. At times, the shift from a casual interrogation into a sudden chase is propulsive and energetic. At others, the choice to stay focused on Graham’s face as he watches his son undergo a strip search or to circle Jamie and his psychiatrist as the power dynamics and tone of their conversation shifts gives the show a heightened emotional impact. It also allows the performances to truly shine. Graham, as a father faced with a circumstance beyond his comprehension, is heart-wrenching, as is young Owen Cooper in his first role as Jamie, a child by turns mentally distraught and confused but also a charismatic, likable teenage boy. Doherty capably modulates her performance to show her character trying – and sometimes failing – to stay composed and in control of the conversation, even as we can see the anger, fear and frustration roiling below the surface. Ashley Walters is the focal point of the first two episodes as the detective investigating the case, and he takes us through a thousand different thoughts and emotions throughout his investigation.

Were Adolescence just an example of superb craftsmanship, it would be enough to recommend it. But the work of the cast and crew is in service of a story that I think all parents – especially those of teenagers – must watch, even as it rips out their heart.

[I’m not going to go into explicit spoilers, but I’m going to try to vaguely talk around the show’s narrative. I honestly don’t think it’s possible to be spoiled by the show, but I’m just presenting this for those who want to go in cold.]

It’s tempting to refer to Adolescence as a crime thriller, but I hesitate to call it that. Describing it in those terms implies that there’s a mystery to be solved or a twist to anticipate, and that’s not what this show is. It presents its cards fairly openly in the first episode, closing on a final moment that makes it pretty clear what has happened. The other three episodes examine the fallout. The show isn’t a whodunit or a conspiracy story, but rather a drama observing how a community has failed its teenagers. It’s not not graphic and, despite its premise, not lurid or even depressing. It is, instead, a deeply empathetic, thoughtful and human exploration of the unique dangers facing teenagers, and how parents and schools, despite their best intentions, are not always able to prevent the worst from happening. Indeed, not to say too much, but the fact that there is no twist is almost a twist itself; as we learn more about the situation, what led to it and what might have been missed, we hope fervently for a last-minute reveal that will allow for a happy ending or explain it all away. Instead, the miniseries ends by confirming what we feared but refusing us tidy closure or villains to blame.

Watching this as the father of a 13-year-old boy was particularly difficult. I’m 30 years out of my middle school years, but I remember them as a special hell. Not because I suffered any extreme bullying or trauma, but just because of the rush of confusion and the emotional whiplash that accompanied that age. It’s easy for parents of infants and toddlers to think that’s the most stressful age because kids are so vulnerable at that point; but adolescence brings with it its own mental turmoil, questions of identity, and the torture of being alongside other kids who are dealing with the same angst and find their outlet in making fun of the others. My son’s a sensitive, kind kid who’s also prone to outbursts of deep anxiety and anger, and Cooper’s performance in a few places reminded me of the swirl of helplessness he’s caught up in. At the end of the third episode, he asks his psychiatrist “do you like me,” and it’s a wallop; that question is at the core of so much of the confusion and anguish in the hearts of teens.

But in 1992, I had the benefit of being a teenager in a largely analog age. We had computers, but no internet. There were bullies, but we could avoid them in the hallway. We had crushes, but we were still largely innocent. If we wanted to see naked pictures, we had to sneak down to watch cable or hope that one day we’d find a Playboy thrown out in the park. We didn’t have a computer in our pockets in which our bullies could find us 24 hours a day, free pornography at our fingertips, or Instagram feeds telling us what it means to be a real man and algorithms stoking our anger and fear. Adolescence did nothing to dissuade my growing convictions that my kids will never have social media or a computer in their rooms, and I’ll be honest that it’s more evidence to me that social media is a net evil that we may need to seriously consider abandoning.

More specifically is the way Adolescence portrays the atmosphere of toxic masculinity in which our young men are swimming. The terms “incel” and “red-pilled” are used fairly frequently, and Andrew Tate is name-dropped. We’re long in need of a reckoning of how how we’re preparing young men, and I think it’s the start of a long, sad conversation we need to have about how people like Joe Rogan, Tate and Elon Musk are often presented as the masculine ideal (and, if you’ve grown up in the church, you could also namecheck Mark Driscoll, John Eldredge and others). Adolescence is far from the first show to wrestle with toxic masculinity (there’s a good argument to be made that it’s the subtext running through The Sopranos), but it’s vital and essential in a way few shows are. I’d quickly add this to a list of films like Eighth Grade and last year’s Didi about the dangers of young people growing up in an online age.

The final episode, following Jamie’s father on his 50th birthday, absolutely gutted me in its observance of parents second-guessing their actions and wondering what more they could have done. The last 20 minutes in particular, a lengthy and anguished conversation between Eddie and his wife after an important phone call, is a heart-wrenching, hard-to-watch dialogue sequence as the two wrestle with their own parenting techniques, the future of their marriage, and how to move on. I spent much of that time ugly crying. Like the rest of the show, it’s always grounded and resists high-strung theatrics, which makes the conversation hit even harder. Every parent wants to believe they’re doing everything they can. Every parent also knows they can’t shield their child from their worst decisions or most painful heartbreaks. Can we accept that? Can we believe we’re good parents but not perfect ones? Where does self-forgiveness fit in? The miniseries ends both on a note of hope and quiet resilience as well as a final shot that is a sledgehammer to the heart.

Adolescence is fantastic, compelling, necessary TV. It’s streaming on Netflix now.

And, a few other things I’ve been watching/reading:

• If you enjoy the technical mastery of Adolescence’s one-shots but want something a little less emotionally devastating, might I direct you to The Studio, which released its first two episodes on Apple TV+ this week (new episodes air each Tuesday). Seth Rogen stars as a film exec who truly loves movies, but when he’s placed as the head of a major studio, he finds his commitment to the art compromised by the needs of the business. Created by Rogen and constant collaborator Evan Goldberg, The Studio is a very funny skewering of Hollywood politics. It owes a huge debt to Robert Altman’s 1992 film The Player – something it pays not only in the lengthy oners that populate each episode but to also in a character played by Bryan Cranston who shares a name with Tim Robbins’ character from Altman’s movie. Hard core film nerds are going to get the most out of this – the first two episodes in particular are so closely aligned with my podcast co-host Perry’s interests that I refuse to believe he wasn’t a creative consultant. It’s got more bite than HBO’s toothless The Franchise from earlier this year, but it’s also enjoyable as just a very funny comedy about people trying to do a job where corporate needs conflict with passion. Great cameos, very funny dialogue and some real technical mastery on display. I’m so eager to see more of this.

• I know that I risk sounding like a broken record each week when I talk about The Pitt…but, wow, this week’s The Pitt. Last week’s episode was a thrilling look at the doctors doing their work in the face of a mass casualty event. It was tense, but also a great look at people doing their jobs well under extreme pressure. This episode, which picks up in its immediate aftermath, has some of that. But it’s also the episode where fatigue begins to set in, patients begin to slip away and an emotional Dr. Robby goes against his own instructions to try and save the life of his surrogate son’s girlfriend. Noah Wyle is really good every week on this show, but this should be his Emmy submission. The final 10 minutes in particular, as the stress of the job eats away at Robby and he has an anguished breakdown, are top-notch acting, reminiscent of the final moments of Captain Phillips. Great show keeps being great.

• For about a year, my buddy Shawn has been bugging me to watch Zero Effect, Jake Kasdan’s 1998 crime comedy starring Bill Pullman as an eccentric private eye and Ben Stiller as his frustrated assistant. Last night, after he guilted me about it again on social media, I took advantage of a quiet night to watch it. And…Shawn was right. Kasdan’s film is a really good detective story, a modern day update on the Sherlock Holmes/Watson dynamic. It’s funny, but the case grows more engrossing as the story goes on and Pullman reveals that his character’s quirks are shielding a more complicated story that gets him to shed layers as he crosses paths with a mysterious woman (Kim Dickens). The movie was passed by upon release, grossing only $2 million on a $5 million budget, but it has its admirers (Roger Ebert gave it 3.5 stars). Add me to its fans; I know it’s not going to happen, but I’d love if Kasdan ever wanted to put Pullman and Stiller back together for another mystery.

• Finally, let’s talk about books real quick. One of the areas I want to grow in as a reader and writer this year involves poetry. I don’t read a lot of it. My brain tends to work in prose, and I have a hard time with abstract writing and art. But I want to be moved by poetry – and one day, I’d love to try my hand at writing it. I’m just intimidated by it because it requires a different mindset. I’ve started reading a collection of poems by Wendell Berry and subscribed to a few poetry-focused Substack accounts. But the best guide I’ve found recently has been the book Word Made Fresh: An Invitation to Poetry for the Church by Abram Van Engen. This well-written primer is designed for Christian but helpful for anyone taking their tentative steps into poetry, with helpful thoughts on how to read for pleasure and insight, how to pay attention to craft and form, and the purposes for which God may have created poetry. I’m still making my way through it, but I’ve found reading poetry to be less daunting as I’ve made my way through this. I’m reading poems with more of an open mind and ear – and less desire for everything to “make sense.” I’ve also found that being more open to poetry has helped my reading of Psalms, understanding of music, and even my viewing of films (could I have made it through Eraserhead without understanding that David Lynch’s approach was visual poetry?).

That’s where I’ll leave you this week. We’ll talk again next Sunday.