Adolescence is a technical masterpiece that exposes the darkest corners of incel culture and male rage

Filmed in a one-take style, Jack Thorne and Stephen Graham’s new crime drama Adolescence is being hailed by critics as a technical masterpiece.

Out now on Netflix, the four-part series follows the fallout surrounding 13-year-old Jamie Miller (Owen Cooper) after he is arrested and later charged for the murder of his classmate, Katie. Co-creator Graham stars as Jamie’s father, Eddie.

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Wk5OxqtpBR4

Adolescence draws inspiration from the United Kingdom’s knife crime epidemic, the rise of incel culture and the brutality of online bullying. These malignant forces combine to create every parent’s worst nightmare.

However, unlike true crime, where there is often a resolution, there is no escape from the horror.

The show’s continuous filming style offers no reprieve, and the story itself provides no easy outs – refusing to provide a simple explanation for why an intelligent boy from an “ordinary” loving family would borrow a knife from a friend and, on a casual Sunday evening, stab another child to death.

While Jamie’s motives remain murky, the show makes one thing clear: today’s teens inhabit an online world that adults, however well-intentioned, are incapable of understanding if they do not listen.

Anxieties distorted by algorithms

At the centre of the show’s broken heart is a devastating truth: the most dangerous place in the world for a teenager is alone in their bedroom.

Trapped in the dark mirror of social media, Jamie – like a growing number of teenage boys – turns to the digital “manosphere” and the grim logic of online misogynists.

He subscribes to the “red pills” of incel culture, so-called truth groups and the 80/20 rule (the theory that 80% of women are attracted to 20% of men, and that women only seek out men who are physically and socially desirable).

While Jamie is, for the most part, an outwardly “normal” and well-adjusted teen, his explosive rage and aggrieved entitlement is revealed in a climatic scene in episode three, when he intimidates and shouts down a female psychologist (Erin Doherty).

“You do not control what I do!” he yells. “Get that in that fucking little head of yours!”

Jamie is quick to apologise when a guard intervenes. “I shouted,” he says. “I’m sorry. Can I have another hot chocolate, please?”

In one particularly unnerving moment, Jamie recalls his decision to ask Katie out after receiving a topless photo of her on Snapchat.

“I thought she might be weak cause everyone was calling her a slag,” he says. “I just thought that when she was that weak, she might like me. It’s clever, don’t you think?”

While the sinister child-teen killer trope has been a mainstay of horror, from The Exorcist (1973) to Child’s Play (1988), Adolescence out-scares its predecessors in its unflinching portrayal of a radicalised misogynist-turned murderer.

Owen Cooper and Erin Doherty in Adolescence. Photo: Netflix

A nightmare with no end

The show’s most stunning achievement is without a doubt its one-take style. Each hour-long episode is filmed in a single take which, as director Philip Barantini explains, “basically means that we press record on the camera, and we don’t stop until the very end of the hour”.

Tapping into today’s true crime zeitgeist, the series renders Jamie’s story more real than it actually is by imitating the cinéma vérité style of documentary filmmaking.

Each episode creates an immersive fly-on-the wall experience that is deeply compelling and uncomfortable. The lack of breaks forces viewers to feel as trapped as the characters, in an unfathomable spiral through confusion, guilt and shame.

This unease is heightened when the action is shot in claustrophobic spaces, such as inside the family van or a police interrogation room.

The soundtrack adds another layer of gritty true crime trauma, with random sirens, slamming doors and thumping discordant notes designed to mirror the inner turmoil of the characters.

As the story unfolds, it charts the devastating impact of Jamie’s crime on those around him. While Katie’s school friends struggle to process their incomprehensible grief, Jamie’s parents must also confront their son’s capacity for cruelty.

“We made him,” despairs Jamie’s mother, Manda Miller.

The unbroken style, in this regard, is important for understanding how broken this family is. Because there are no cuts, there is no escape from the nightmare.

Indeed, Jamie seems to have fallen through the cracks of the social institutions we relied on in the pre-internet age: the schooling system, the judiciary and the family itself.

The generational chasm

The show’s true sympathy lies not with its cast of troubled teens but with the baffled adults around them. Like Jamie’s parents, viewers must surrender to the sorrow and disbelief of never truly understanding what went wrong.

Adolescence is a convincing portrayal of the widening chasm between parents and their teenage children in a savage, unregulated digital age.

It is also a social commentary on how little we know about how to communicate with teens effectively. DM 

Adolescence. Poster: Netflix

This story was first published in The Conversation. Kate Cantrell is a Senior Lecturer in Writing, Editing, and Publishing at the University of Southern Queensland. Susan Hopkins is a Senior Lecturer in Education (Curriculum and Pedagogy) at the University of the Sunshine Coast.