Every year there seems to be a small, quaint series on Netflix, that takes the world by storm. A few years ago, it was Squid Games, last year it was Baby Reindeer, and this year it appears to be Adolescence. A series about a family’s world turns upside down when 13-year-old Jamie Miller is arrested for murdering a schoolmate. The charges against their son forces them to confront every parent’s worst nightmare. Adolescence is a profoundly somber series that fearlessly engages with pressing, often contentious themes, delivering them through some of the most visually arresting storytelling on television. However, despite its ambition and artistry, it isn’t without its flaws.
The brilliance of Adolescence lies in its groundbreaking approach to its cinematic storytelling. Each hour-long episode unfolds in a single, uninterrupted take—no cuts, no hidden edits, just pure cinematic bravado. The sheer level of craftsmanship, coordination, and precision required to pull off such a feat is nothing short of astonishing. What makes it even more impressive is how seamlessly the camera glides between locations, executing complex maneuvers like aerial shots, extreme close-ups, and sweeping arcs, all within the same continuous shot. It’s a technical and artistic triumph, and if there’s any justice, the show should be clearing space for an Emmy in Best Cinematography.
Each episode of Adolescence serves as a crucial piece in unraveling the crime and examining the devastating consequences of “incel” culture. In Episode One, we follow Detective Inspector Basombe (Ashley Walters) and Detective Sergeant Frank (Faya Marsay) as they track down and arrest the suspected murderer, Jamie (Owen Cooper), moving from his home to the tense interrogation room in the early hours of the morning.
This episode unfolds like a tightly-wound true crime thriller, keeping viewers on the edge of their seats as the arrest draws near and the first pieces of evidence are revealed. While it stands as the series’ most gripping episode, it also remains the most formulaic, a procedural at its core, following the well-worn beats of a classic crime drama. Nonetheless, it sets the stage with palpable tension, pulling us into the investigation with relentless pace.
Episode Two shifts its focus to the detectives investigating Jamie’s motive for killing Katie, as the school environment teeters on the brink of chaos. Teachers and officials scramble to maintain any semblance of control as students openly defy authority, bully each other in plain sight, and abandon all societal decorum, transforming the school into a dystopian nightmare reminiscent of Mad Max. In this environment, the fertile ground for resentment and hatred is disturbingly clear, as a lonely student like Jamie is all too vulnerable to these toxic undercurrents. Though this episode stands as the weakest of the series, it offers a sharp and unsettling commentary on the mounting societal pressures, particularly within schools, that can steer a young boy toward dangerous ideological extremism. It’s a sobering reflection on a level of toxicity in modern education that, quite frankly, has never been more pronounced.
Months later, Jamie finds himself in a psychiatric hospital, undergoing evaluation by a psychologist (Erin Doherty) in an attempt to unravel the mindset that led him down such a destructive path. What begins as a seemingly routine conversation gradually mutates into a harrowing psychological showdown; a tense, slow-burning game of cat and mouse steeped in self-loathing, rage, and misogyny. This is where the series plunges headfirst into the psyche of an incel, offering a chillingly authentic portrait of how low self-esteem, societal alienation, and unchecked anger can metastasize into a toxic worldview, one that figures like Andrew Tate readily exploit.
Anchored by Owen Cooper and Erin Doherty, this is undeniably the series’ standout episode. Doherty delivers a masterclass in quiet intensity, but it’s Cooper—making his acting debut—who leaves an indelible mark. He walks a razor-thin line between unbridled fury and tragic vulnerability, capturing both the raw aggression of an incel and the heartbreaking collapse of a young man buckling under societal weight. It’s the kind of performance that feels destined for Emmy recognition.
The fourth and final episode propels the narrative forward a year after Jamie’s arrest, shifting focus to the devastating ripple effects of his crime through the eyes of his family. Despite the forced smiles and attempts at normalcy, his parents, Eddie (Stephen Graham) and Marda (Christine Tremarco), are barely holding it together as they grapple with the unthinkable, piecing together how their son became a murderer.
This episode delivers a gut-wrenching examination of parental blindness, exposing not only how out of touch many are with the insidious nature of online radicalization but also the quiet failures that may have played a role. Jamie was never truly taught how to regulate his emotions, and in that absence, something far darker took root. Anchored by Graham and Tremarco’s raw, deeply felt performances, this is Adolescence at its most haunting; a devastating reckoning with guilt, grief, and the limits of parental love.
However, for all its merits, Adolescence feels like only half the story. While the series excels at exposing the consequences of incel culture and the factors that can lead a young man down that path, it stops short of painting the full picture. It frames the “manosphere” and men’s struggles with emotional expression as root causes of the incel phenomenon, when in reality, they are symptoms of a deeper, systemic issue—one that few seem willing to confront. The uncomfortable truth is that boys and young men are being left behind, alienated by a society that often fails to acknowledge their struggles. And so, they gravitate toward the only spaces that offer them a voice—flawed as those spaces may be.
This underlying theme, what truly drives boys toward such a dangerous ideology, had the potential to be explored with greater depth in the second episode. While the episode effectively illustrates the social pressures that push young men down this path, it stops short of addressing the broader systemic forces at play. A more incisive critique could have examined how schools, often unintentionally, reinforce these disparities—whether through discrepancies in grading, disciplinary measures, or access to counseling. The series misses an opportunity to highlight a stark reality: while numerous support programs exist for female students, their male counterparts are frequently left without a comparable safety net. By failing to address this institutional neglect, Adolescence leaves a crucial piece of the puzzle unexplored.
Additionally, the series overlooks a crucial perspective: that of the victim. Exploring this viewpoint would not only have provided a harrowing look at the psychological toll incel culture inflicts on women and girls but also served as a vital counterbalance. It could have shed light on the early warning signs of a boy descending into toxic ideology while offering a more nuanced exploration of the societal forces steering him in that direction.
By neglecting this angle, Adolescence overlooks an opportunity to explore the broader societal fractures fueling gender divides. Elements such as toxic femininity, the often unexamined sexist rhetoric within third-wave feminism, and the rise of movements like 4B (the female counterpart to incel culture) are left unexplored, despite their growing influence. A more nuanced approach could have illuminated how social media, identity politics, and cultural echo chambers are exacerbating the disconnect between men and women, leading to devastating consequences. Ultimately, the most powerful message the series could have delivered is also the simplest: that much of this division could be prevented if people, regardless of gender, were met with kindness, empathy, and, most importantly, the willingness to listen.
Adolescence is an undeniably vital series, one that boldly confronts the dangers of incel ideology with some of the most innovative and unsettling filmmaking of the year. Its raw intensity and technical mastery make for a gripping viewing experience. Yet, for all its ambition, the series stops just short of true greatness. There remains one crucial, unspoken piece of the puzzle, one that few are willing to examine. And without it, Adolescence falls just shy of being a masterpiece.
My Rating: A-
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