Netflix’s ‘Adolescence’ Is a Brilliantly Brutal Examination of Extremist Incel Culture and Misogynistic Violence

Tony Sokol

Netflix’s “Adolescence” is a major step forward for crime dramas, both in streaming and theatrical releases. The most basic premise, a teenager accused of killing a classmate, is familiar territory for the genre. Written by Jack Thorne and Stephen Graham (who plays Eddie Miller, the chief suspect’s father), and directed by Philip Barantini, this four-episode limited series sets a new standard. The approach is unique, completely engrossing, and as authentic and moving a piece of procedural storytelling that can be rendered with such versatility and insight.

Much of this can be credited to the one-camera style of cinematographer Matthew Lewis, and Barantini’s one-take purism. Each episode follows the story on one mobile, occasionally drone-lifted lens, uncut, whether weaving through crowded police stations or schools, or tightly focusing on a personal evaluation session. “Adolescence” appears to occur in the deliberate cadence of reality. When 13-year-old Jamie Miller (Owen Cooper) is fingerprinted, every tip from both hands is carefully registered into the system. We watch while a court-appointed child psychologist, Briony (Erin Doherty), waits for a coffee machine to brew a cup of hot chocolate. This does not slow the proceedings in any way, but heightens the suspense while acclimating viewers to darker realities, and a growing cast.

The single camera also confines the POV to a perp walk through criminal existence. There are no cuts, except to reaction shots, which offer no escape from uncomfortable implications, though no blood is ever spilled or shown. The camera doesn’t flinch. The first episode begins with a SWAT team leading a home invasion and arrest, and never lets up until the entire booking and interview process is settled at the police station. Detective Inspector Bascombe (Ashley Walters) and his partner, Detective Sergeant Frank (Faye Marsay), run the particulars with expedient efficiency. Jamie’s mother, Manda (Christine Tremarco), and older sister, Lisa (Amélie Pease), report complaints of harsh treatment and housing damage. A lawyer is appointed. Damning evidence is revealed. Each member of the family and investigating officers lead the camera through the geography of the surroundings, and the muted reactions behind the eyes signal unforeseen journeys. As a security guard quips during episode three, body language is the key to all the secrets. All of these advancements and ties are elevated by the ambivalent camera. Each are bare facts. The camera snatches unfiltered truth, irrelevant only to the case.

The plot thickens like Manda’s blood pudding during the second episode. Jamie’s school is a treacherous place, especially after the murder of one of its students. Unofficially identified as the murder victim, Katie is now well known, as are too many specifics of the ongoing case. Many secrets hide in plain sight, and bullies toss violent threats in public areas. Teachers in every classroom bark at students to turn off phones. Social media, specifically Instagram, obscures extreme behavior under cryptic emojis, and codifies vengeful intent. Linguistic limitations within the current generation gap, and the insidiously radicalized misogynist novelty of the cult-like “Incel” thinking brings exquisitely unexpected twists based on all-too-realistic scenarios. When DI Bascombe’s son educates his father on the “manosphere” concepts found in Instagram symbolism, the procedural finds a new path to mended relations in law enforcement trajectories. 

The third episode is one long interview between Briony and Jamie for a pretrial report to the judge. It warrants repeated watching. The performances are riveting, the atmosphere claustrophobic, and the revelations are all deeply disconcerting. Even a playful tease over pickles threatens deeper malicious intent. Cooper shows everything, more so while attempting to restrain it. “Adolescence” subtly tosses off accusations which mirror the bristling misogynistic schoolyard tension. The psychologist confronts two incidents of “manospheric” conditions: Jamie’s lurking stance, and the borderline unprofessionalism of the mental facility’s security guard. Doherty internalizes everything her professional character shuts off for the job. It is heart-wrenching.

The final episode is the true revelation, as unseen consequences prompt extreme self-doubt. The Miller family’s 50th birthday trip to the hardware store is explosive, filmed in the chaos of all-too-realistic righteous rage. Being recognized, especially by a deranged and unwanted supporter, pushes Eddie inside himself. He comes out chasing the blame. Whether looking away on a football field or from the isolation of online secrecy, Eddie will be forever haunted by what could have been done for the unilaterally condemned Jamie.

Especially because each episode runs as one long take, the performances are impeccable throughout, and completely naturalistic. It is uncertain whether all dialogue is scripted or improvised in character, but the flawless motion captures uncertain emotions which read as true expressions of real-world reactions. Nothing feels acted, merely witnessed. It evokes anger and sympathy, along with the empathy the unblinking camera catches.

Graham is one of the most versatile and effective actors working, quite consistently, today. Physically similar to his character in “A Thousand Blows,” also new on Netflix, Eddie’s psyche bears no similarities. Eddie loses his temper when pushed, but the all-seeing eye of the lone camera intimately captures brutal closeups of torturous self-recriminations. Graham also brings unexpectedly welcome bursts of humor to very dire circumstances. The subtle repartee between Eddie and his wife is a half-buried jewel, as priceless as it is fleeting.

The inherent innovation of the single camera ultimately feeds the characters’ humanity far more than any advancement of cinematic technique. The unflinching detail services the emotional trajectory of “Adolescence,” pushing the experience past genre limitations. There is no hiding from such intimate soul-searching studies. Allowing such depth in the emotional stages of Jamie’s family to conclude the story is nothing short of transformative to the structure of crime dramas, psychological thrillers, and contemporary threats.

“Adolescence” begins streaming March 13 on Netflix.