Adolescence. The Netflix show that has taken the world by storm. Filmmakers Hansal Mehta and Shekhar Kapur’s high praise has mobilised many Indians and a large part of the Indian diaspora to spend four hours of their lives to watch this British crime drama created by Jack Thorne and Stephen Graham. I was one of them.
I agree with all the reviews that the show is brilliantly done, supported by a tight script and outstanding performances. Adolescence shows a mirror to the vulnerabilities of our children, so deeply influenced by social media. It talks of male rage. This limited series does not follow any of the usual tropes, and sits us down on the edge of our seats and makes us listen to every word.
As a viewer, one is deeply conflicted because 13-year-old Jamie Miller has been bullied and pushed to the corner through spiteful jabs at his manhood, resulting in low esteem about his physical appearance. Which does not in any way justify his actions. It does not help that the protagonist looks sweet and vulnerable and frail. The auto-response to that is to want to ruffle his hair, to hold and protect him.
What I want to talk about is how terrified I was. How real the rage was. How instinctive my gut reaction to the rage was. How I flinched every time it was depicted. By the father, Eddie Miller (Stephen Graham); the son, Jamie Miller (Owen Cooper) and (not the holy ghost) policeman DI Luke Bascombe (Ashley Walters). I have not talked about it and this series with my women friends yet but the violence women face is universal – within homes, outside homes, at work, with loved ones, with strangers, at the bus stop, the supermarket, tourist spots… everywhere. This can be passive aggressive, verbal, non-verbal, physical – and as we see here – murderous.
Amrish Puri in Dilwale Dulhaniya Le Jayenge was full of rage and terrifying but it did not make me flinch. It did not make me feel unsafe, it did not make me want to run out of the room, it did not make me want to deep-breathe, it did not make me want to throw up. For those of us who have faced violence in our intimate relationships, those of us who have created protective barriers around women, held hands and wept together – this one is personal.
And here we come to the most talked about Episode 3 between clinical psychologist Briony Ariston (Erin Doherty) and Jamie at the mental health facility. Both actors are magnificent in their interactions, conversation and silences. Every time Jamie came close to Briony, I felt threatened. Every time he yelled at her, I flinched.
Across reviews, I have not come across much on the use of background score in the series but I think it is an additional character which drives the story forward. It is loud when the visuals speak without words – when an arrested and weeping Jamie is on his way to the police station, or when Eddie is trying to violently drown out the comment spray painted in yellow on the side of his blue van. On the other hand, the music is completely absent in some places like the third episode, which leaves your heart hammering. The intensity of interaction between the two protagonists does not offer relief of any kind. And at the end when Jamie is being led away and he bangs on every glass pane en route to his cell, I could feel myself shuddering and gasping like Briony.
As a lover of film – I welcome novel, unpredictable surprises like Adolescence. As a woman, if I were to be asked to go to these dark places once more, I don’t know if I can. But I agree with the consensus – Adolescence is brilliant, it is compelling, it is a story of our times (and yet of every time in history) – and we do need to keep telling these stories to be in touch with our realities and our humanity.