Summary
Adolescence is a remarkable technical achievement boasting best-in-class performances. What seems like a gimmick proves to be a relentlessly powerful flourish in a harrowing story of violence and its repercussions.
Netflix’s Adolescence is being sold on the back of an interesting stylistic gimmick – each of its four episodes is shot in an uninterrupted real-time tracking shot, a technique that has been used for ages but probably came to prestige TV prominence in the first season of HBO’s True Detective. Netflix is no stranger to the oner; every season of Daredevil boasted one-take fight scenes of escalating complexity, and Monsters: The Lyle and Erik Menendez Story has an entire episode built to at least resemble one. But I don’t think I’ve ever seen the technique used as affectingly as it is here.
This is the point. Adolescence is one of the few cases where the gimmick is not just an auteur flourish but feels like the right way – perhaps the only way – of telling this particular story, which is a harrowing account of the contemporary teenage experience, and how a sudden burst of violence sends out ripple effects that utterly upend the lives of several, deeply human characters. The camerawork complements this every step of the way, with director Phil Barantini – working with the same gimmick and lead actor as in his restaurant drama Boiling Point – creating a stifling atmosphere that never allows you to come up for air.
The first episode lays the groundwork for the rest of the season. Coppers Bascombe (Ashley Walters, Top Boy and Missing You) and Frank (Faye Marsay, Andor) smash down the door of the Miller family to arrest 13-year-old Jamie (astonishing newcomer Owen Cooper) for murder. In a harrowing hour, Jamie is led to the police station with his mother Manda (Christine Tremarco), father Eddie (Stephen Graham), and sister Lisa (Amelie Pease), appointed a solicitor, examined, photographed, and interrogated, as details of his supposed crime are gradually revealed to him and the audience.
In the second episode, set a few days later, Bascombe and Frank investigate Jamie’s school and interview several of his peers; in the third, Jamie is interviewed by an unconventional psychologist played by Erin Doherty; and in the fourth, set several months after, the Miller family grapple with the implications of everything that has happened, with Graham delivering the finest performance of his career and what will likely be the best of 2025, proving without any doubt that he is the most underrated actor in the world.
Erin Doherty and Owen Cooper in Adolescence | Image via Netflix
As mentioned, each of these episodes is a oner, but each has a different feel and utilizes the technique to a different effect. In the premiere, it’s all about fostering an incredibly oppressive atmosphere of confusion and distress, with Jamie being subjected to the rigors of blood tests, fingerprinting, and plain cornflakes, all while continuously protesting his innocence. In the second it takes in the bustle and chaos of a state school; this is the most complex use of the format by far and must have been a nightmare to organize and shoot, especially during a hectic fire drill involving hundreds of extras.
The third episode is almost the opposite – stripped down to its very basics and taking place mostly in a single room, it’s a ferocious battle of wits between Jamie and Doherty’s psychologist that, if the world was just, Owen Cooper would win an award for. The finale belongs to Graham, a screamingly tense closer that sees the Millers try to find normalcy in the midst of an emotional maelstrom.
Of all these episodes, only the second is explicitly showy, and even then, not in a way that detracts from the emotional core. The gimmick is always used to enhance the particulars of the story, which it’s important to note is not so much a “whodunit” but more a “whydunit” and, eventually, something else entirely. The overall effect is endlessly impressive but also undoubtedly heavy going. There’s a part of me that thinks Adolescence should be a mandatory watch for everyone, especially parents of teenagers, but there’s another part of me that thinks it’s so unflinching and provocative in its depiction of bullying, pervasive always-online internet culture, and the ramifications of violence that parents of teenagers would be best advised to stay well away from it.
Mileage, I suppose, may vary, but either way, Adolescence is remarkable television that only suffers in its slanted viewpoint – the victim and her friends get very little focus – and its topical manosphere subject matter that sometimes feels a little strained and trendy. But the performances, stylistic excellence, and visceral emotional power more than make up for that.
