The term “appropriate adult” may be new to some folks living outside of England or Wales, but its significance to the British crime drama “Adolescence” keenly transcends any prior awareness. Used formally, the title refers to a parent, guardian, or social worker required to be present when police detain or interview anyone under 18 years old. The juvenile being questioned has the right to choose their appropriate adult — typically, they go with their mother or father — and their selected advocate can look out for them, making sure the child isn’t tricked into answering questions they shouldn’t answer or giving up any rights they aren’t aware they have.
In “Adolescence,” Jamie Miller (Owen Cooper) chooses his father, Eddie (Stephen Graham), as his appropriate adult when the 13-year-old boy is charged with murder. During the teenager’s frantic arrest, booking, and interrogation, Jamie repeatedly asks for his dad, and Eddie is able to be there for his son through much of the devastating ordeal. He wants to protect him. He wants to help him and, perhaps more so, he doesn’t want to let him down. In a moment of clarifying vulnerability, he tells an officer, “I just don’t want to get it wrong [for my son].”
This is a father’s common mission, in the big picture and during times of crisis. They want to help, and they don’t want to hurt. Sometimes, often even, success can be difficult to determine, and “Adolescence” mines those anxieties by playing out a family’s worst-case scenario.
But instead of merely asking what Eddie can do for Jamie now that he’s been arrested, the series, co-written by Graham and Jack Thorne, asks what Eddie could have done to prevent it. How he could have been an “appropriate adult” before tragedy required the official designation, and — in a world where grueling hours pull working-class parents away from their kids, omnipresent social media helps bullying persist long after the school day ends, and toxic role models wait online to advise young men’s still-developing minds — who, if anyone, bears responsibility for keeping our troubled boys from becoming toxic men.
Told in four hour-long episodes, each of which plays out in real-time via what appears to be a single, uncut take, “Adolescence” is a sly subversion of TV‘s traditional crime dramas. Rather than ask who among us could be capable of such violence, the series examines why so many boys are growing up to be angry, misogynistic men. That means less of a focus on mystery and more attention to societal issues, but the relentless pace and commanding performances are powerful enough to overwhelm any sense of absence.
The first episode focuses on Jamie’s arrest, from the cops’ sudden, early-morning arrival in his home to a climactic interrogation scene. Most of the 65 minutes are told from the perspective of the police — namely lead inspectors Bascombe (Ashley Walters) and Frank (Faye Marsay), who make the arrest, bring him to jail, and conduct the interviews — but their presence doesn’t dilute the viewers’ sympathy for Jamie, a young boy whose terror over what’s happening to him is only matched by his adamant denial of committing any crime. As fingerprints are taken and blood is drawn, Jamie tells anyone who will listen that he didn’t do anything, which only makes the agonizing booking process feel that much longer, that much more pitiless, and that much more overwhelming.
Director Philip Barantini’s camera is almost ghostlike, haunting the Miller family home like an unnoticed guest and roaming the hallways of the police station like a forgotten suspect — never in the way, yet always around the action. Its fluid movement and natural integration speak to Barantini and Graham’s immaculate blocking as well as the practical stages constructed by production designer Adam Tomlinson. D.P. Matt Lewis covers so much ground, his stamina alone is staggering, not to mention the emotional endurance of actors who are pushed and pulled from darkness to light, over and over.
Episode 2, set at Jamie’s school just a few days after the incident, thrives in the chaos of innumerable moving pieces as kids push through crowded passageways, cram inside cacophonous classrooms, and even parade out to the playground during an unexpected fire drill. Episode 3, meanwhile, is largely a two-hander between Jamie and a clinical psychologist tasked with assessing his mental state. Erin Doherty (“The Crown”) plays the visiting specialist with strict professionalism, refusing to shy away from the questions she needs answered and the upsetting emotions they stir in Jamie. But “Adolescence” makes sure to show the human toll it takes on Briony, as well; like the inspectors before her, the shield a job provides doesn’t provide immunity from one’s personal reaction.
Recognizing as much helps bond the characters in a common cause, even when they ostensibly want different things. Bascombe and Frank want to build evidence to support their case against Jamie, but they never relish doing their duty. Frank is eager to be done with it (she repeatedly mentions they could’ve sent someone else to the school to conduct interviews), and Bascombe is drawn closer to his own teenage son. Briony doesn’t get the same amount of screentime, but the brief moments when she’s overwhelmed by her responsibilities — to the court, to Jamie, to herself — plainly illustrate just how devastating the effort of understanding can feel. Their reactions to the case aren’t merely theirs; they belong to the audience, as well, who may feel driven to educate themselves on the issues raised or simply spend more time with their loved ones — to be together, not alone.
While the series may ultimately feel extraneous to anyone already well-aware of terms like cyberbullying and the manosphere, its technical scope is impressive and purposeful, while its persistent empathy helps the ending feel more like a consoling hug than an outraged admonishment. If it falls short of unearthing relevant new ideas and, at times, struggles to move beyond wallowing in fear, the compassionate handling of an all-too-common nightmare makes “Adolscence” a responsible approach to wrestling with thorny societal woes — and a damn fine exhibition for its artists. (Graham and Doherty, in particular, are outstanding.)
The final episode hammers home both points. It’s dedicated to the Millers who remain at home: Eddie, Jamie’s mom Manda (Christine Tremarco), and his sister, Lisa (Amélie Pease). Their lives, more than a year after Jamie was first accused, are more or less what you’d expect. Plagued by suspicious neighbors and needling strangers, tormented by memories of better times and dreams of what could have been, the Millers are getting by on the edge of a knife. A sudden slip here or there, and it feels like whatever happiness they’ve preserved could be cut loose for good.
But in Eddie, especially, “Adolescence” emphasizes resilience, too. While acknowledging the many faults typical of emotionally suppressed, red-blooded men, it also presents fragility and growth; a path toward a better man; a hope for more appropriate adults.
Grade: A-
“Adolescence” premieres Thursday, March 13 on Netflix. All four episodes will be released at once.
