Adolescence Review: Of Sons And Fathers, Radicalisation And Rage

Just when you want to write off Netflix as the platform that wants to solely capitalise on lazy, ragebait content featuring star kids—here라이브 바카라 looking at the latest culprit, Nadaaniyan (2025)—there comes a show like Adolescence. Long-form content often forgets that its greatest strength lies in the freedom to experiment with both form and narrative. This is where Netflix라이브 바카라 latest crime drama, Adolescence, truly excels. The four-part British miniseries, where each episode is shot in single takes, comes from Jack Thorne and Stephen Graham (who also features in the show in a pivotal role). It is directed by Philip Barantini who previously directed the intense one-shot feature Boiling Point (2021), which also starred Graham.

The series is both a technical marvel and a chilling meditation on lost childhoods in the digital age, where explicit Snapchats can ruin reputations just as fast as filter bubbles can flood young minds with corrosive ideas. It tells a harrowing story we have been watching unfurl in real-time around the world. The single-shot, nearly hour-long episodes manage to be immersive in a way that demands every speck of your dwindling attention span. This is theatre that has come alive on television.

Adolescence follows the story of Jamie Miller (portrayed by newcomer Owen Cooper), a 13-year-old boy accused of murdering his schoolmate, Katie Leonard, as his ordinary, working-class family grapples with the devastating aftermath. The very first scene in the series lulls you into a sense of non-urgency before taking you on an emotional rollercoaster that will wrack every nerve in your already harried brain. After all, if you are a socially aware, ageing Millennial already on the fence about raising a child in a world falling apart at the seams, anxiety is your middle name. And Adolescence is deeply attuned to the anxieties of modern parenthood, especially when it comes to raising young boys in the day and age of basement incel culture, Andrew Tate, and the destructive effects of ‘manosphere’—a collection of online communities that promote misogynistic views, often centred around anti-feminist ideals, men's rights activism, and the glorification of toxic masculinity.

Adolescence doesn’t rely on exposition dumps or moral grandstanding. There라이브 바카라 no space for it. Instead, it trusts its audience to piece together the quiet, accumulative horror of watching a boy slip through the cracks. There are no easy answers here. Jamie belongs to a seemingly happy home, where the occasional outbursts of rage from his overworked father is very human of him. He is fond of his mother, proud of his sister. He is not socially isolated from the look of things. But he is vulnerable. His favourite subject, history, is taught by a teacher who is overworked and stretched to his limits in a clearly underfunded public school. He has friends, he is not a loner like most stories of this nature would write him off to be. However, there is subtext in his choice of friends too. And within that subtext, there is the question of how he views women who are not related to him: girls can’t be “mates” like boys can be; rage is acceptable as long as it라이브 바카라 not accompanied by physical violence; and physical violence is justifiable as long as it is not tainted by sexual perversion. This is the moral hierarchy being navigated in this world.

At a time when so much prestige drama mistakes bloat for depth, Adolescence is shot with surgical precision. The show라이브 바카라 long, unbroken takes, raw performances, and tight framing create an oppressive sense of unease. Every scene is deliberate—there라이브 바카라 no excess, no filler—just a slow, suffocating buildup that mirrors the experience of growing up in a world where everyone seems to have forsaken you in the real as well as reel life.

During the episode where Jamie is speaking to a psychologist (Erin Doherty라이브 바카라 Briony Ariston, performed with brilliance), the undulating conversation—cocooned only by the sound of pouring rain outside and shifting sunlight—captures the disturbing and confusing isolation of Jamie라이브 바카라 inner world. This episode is the zenith of Adolescence라이브 바카라 astute storytelling. It is not about a confession of a crime, but how this barely pubescent mind views himself and the world around him.

There are traces of We Need to Talk About Kevin (2011) and Mindhunter (2017-19) in Adolescence. There라이브 바카라 the exploration of the psychological unraveling of a young man who commits a horrific crime. Then there are the complexities of parental responsibility and guilt. But Adolescence does not deal with the most predestined nature of evil within. It focuses on the insidious influence of online radicalisation. Online echo chambers fuelled by soulless algorithms often target the most impressionable minds and mould them through almost imperceptible shifts. There is no dramatic turning point or overt ideological indoctrination, making it all the more terrifying because it feels so ordinary. So how do you escape its grip when there is no one to hold big tech responsible for its unbridled capitalist greed and severe lack of moral compunction?

Adolescence feeds into the unsettling reality that there라이브 바카라 no roadmap for raising boys or protecting our daughters today. There is just a constant, gnawing fear that any of n-number of missteps could lead to disaster. In the digital age, where radical ideologies about manhood and violence towards women is normalised, encouraged even, and societal pressures seep through screens and into young minds, guiding a child to adulthood is like navigating a minefield. The terrors go far beyond mere growing pains. And the show captures this sheer helplessness—of a child navigating a divisive, manipulative, and casually cruel world. Trying to protect the malleable mind of an insecure, ostracised teen from the dangers that are no longer just external but embedded within the very fabric of their daily existence is nigh impossible. This might make Adolescence deeply nihilistic, but it is arguably an accurate reflection of the world today.

Debiparna Chakraborty is an independent Film, TV and Pop Culture journalist who has been feeding into the great sucking maw of the internet since 2010.