Adolescence opens on a quiet and brief conversation between police officers DI Luke Bascombe (Ashley Walters) and DS Misha Frank (Faye Marsay). Their talk feels natural and unhurried, the exact sort of conversation you have to burn off time at work while you wait for the next project. It demonstrates the show’s commitment to grounding its events and characters, maintaining a sense of the natural.
It is also the last time the limited series lets the audience breathe. Moments later, the two are leading a team into the Miller household to arrest young teen son Jamie (Owen Cooper) for murder. Every moment after that, the Stephen Graham (he also stars as Jamie’s father Eddie) and Jack Thorne creation puts the emotional screws to its characters and the audience.
To be clear, Adolescence isn’t breathless because it is an edge-of-your-seat actioner. Save for the opening raid and a later foot chase, there is scant action of the typical variety. What robs viewers of their breath is how Graham and Thorne’s scripting, paired with Philip Barantini’s direction, traps them in the show’s story. Each episode is one continuous shot, unbroken by edits. As a result, it is impossible to not feel like part of the “action,” a powerless witness to the fear, doubt, and pain unfolding on the screen.
The one-shot approach has the potential to be little more than a parlor trick, a neat bit of camera work devoid of meaning. In practice, however, it proves so essential to the energy of the series. By its nature, it denies the audience catharsis. The format forces those watching to only experience certain events through a phone line or described by others. It distances in a way that paradoxically pulls one deeper because the characters are just as unable to see what’s happening. What it refuses to them is refused to viewers. What they must sit with, so too must the audience.
While not true crime, Adolescence also engages with it in a way stories from within that genre cannot. For instance, at one point, Marsay—itchy and frustrated—confesses that what gets her worse than the crime itself is the inevitable focus on the criminal over the victim. Her partner earnestly pushes back, arguing it’ll be different this time. Then the series goes on to prove him wrong. Jamie’s gravity is impossible to escape. The victim simply can’t compete. The closest the victim comes to the spotlight is when her best friend begins to decompensate. It is powerful and honest. And it’s only a few minutes of one episode.
Still, the show cleverly uses that pull to at least illuminate how his alleged crime spider webs outward to affect others. His family, of course, but also Bascombe’s relationship to his son, the officers at the station that do his intake, and the court-ordered mental health professional Briony Ariston (Erin Doherty) who must evaluate his fitness for trial. Adolescence can’t help but make Jamie the center of its story, so the creators make him a shadow. He blankets everything even when not on-screen, but the show refuses to cede the narrative to him.
The performances are top-notch. There isn’t one that feels too big or too small, that feels like it belongs in some other show. Graham is excellent as Eddie, a character that easily could’ve been a trope but ends up so much more, thanks to strong writing and soulful acting. Also worthy of being singled out is Doherty. Her entire episode is a standout, scary and deep with empathy. True therapy is almost impossible to depict on-screen without boring an audience, but her turn—and the writing at large—should be studied for those who want to show therapy in a way that feels “real” while still working as drama.
Adolescence is the kind of show one declares excellent but hesitates to recommend. It is so precise in its depictions, so well-structured and acted, its artistry is undeniable. Nonetheless, save for a few spare moments of joy or humor, it is a relentless experience. It is a waking nightmare. By all means, watch it. But give yourself time afterward to decompress and shake off its world. The series is no one’s idea of a good time on your television screen. And yet, when you’re ready, it must be seen.
Adolescence comes to Netflix on March 13.
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