
Adolescence: A Haunting Portrait of Teenage Turmoil and Parental Anguish
Dr Ramandeep Mahal reviews 'Adolescence'.
As an avid fan of psychological thrillers, I found Adolescence to be utterly engrossing. This Netflix limited series is gripping, dramatic, and intellectually provocative throughout its four-episode run. Written, acted, and directed by Philip Barantini—known for his work in Band of Brothers and Chernobyl—the series evokes tension, emotion, and fury in equal measure while exploring a profoundly sensitive subject.
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The narrative revolves around the arrest of 13-year-old Jamie Miller (played by Owen Cooper) for the murder of his schoolmate, Katie Leonard. Jamie, a boy struggling with self-worth and loneliness, feels he’s unattractive and untalented, which fuels his belief that no girl could ever want him. This inner torment forms the psychological backbone of the story. His arrest forces his family into the nightmare every parent dreads, unearthing layers of guilt, fear, and helplessness.
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What sets Adolescence apart is its striking cinematographic choice—each episode is filmed in a single take. This technique draws viewers in, making them feel like silent participants in the unfolding drama. The first episode is particularly jarring, plunging the audience directly into the chaos engulfing Jamie’s life without preamble or exposition. We are left questioning: Is he guilty or innocent?
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The show's brilliance lies in how it portrays stress, confusion, and emotional unraveling—not just in Jamie, but also in those around him. One of the most compelling subplots involves Detective Luke Bascombe (Ashley Walters), whose own strained relationship with his son subtly mirrors Jamie’s predicament, adding thematic richness to the investigation. Episode 3 stands out as a masterpiece. The therapy session between Jamie and Briony Ariston (Erin Doherty) is almost voyeuristic in its intimacy. Their dialogue, punctuated by silences and raw emotion, feels less like a scripted exchange and more like a moment stolen from real life. It’s both deeply uncomfortable and strikingly authentic.
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Performances are stellar across the board. Owen Cooper masterfully portrays the complexity of a troubled teen navigating fear, anger, and vulnerability. Graham Bell delivers a career-defining performance as Jamie’s father—a portrayal so powerful and nuanced that it seems destined for Emmy or Golden Globe recognition. Christine Tremarco also shines as Jamie’s mother, especially in a tender, emotionally charged scene where she tries to connect with her son through shared memories.
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The cinematography is intimate and immersive. The camera follows characters with a deliberate steadiness, making it feel like a silent observer—or even a conscience—watching events unfold. This technique enhances the emotional realism of every scene, especially the interrogations, which feel less like performances and more like lived experience.
Adolescence is not interested in clichés. It doesn’t offer easy answers or villainous caricatures. Instead, it presents fully realised, flawed individuals grappling with issues of identity, sexuality, emotional neglect, and environmental pressures. However, one drawback is the underdeveloped focus on the community’s broader reaction to the crime. While the family drama is compelling, a deeper exploration of the town’s response could have added another rich layer to the narrative.
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Despite this, Adolescence is a powerful and timely reflection on the silent struggles of youth and the ripple effects those struggles can have on families and society. I would rate it an 8.5 out of 10 for its riveting performances—especially by Owen Cooper and Graham Bell—and its bold narrative execution.
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Verdict: A must-watch series that grips you with its realism, breaks your heart with its humanity, and leaves you haunted by its unanswered questions.
