Adolescence: Patriarchy Laid Bare
by Emma Batterman
A week or so after the premiere of Netflix’s new miniseries Adolescence, created by Stephen Graham and Jack Thorne, my friend excitedly showed me the first few minutes of the first episode to entice my interest. Shot in one take, the camera skillfully moves the audience through an explosive barrage of heavily armed officers apprehending a 13-year-old boy in his bedroom. The police slam through the door of the suburban home, leaving no room for questions as the boy’s family pleads for answers with their hands in the air. The boy, Jamie Miller (Owen Cooper), is arrested on suspicion of murder and immediately carted away to a nearby police station. When my friend closed the screen, I turned to her with my eyes widened in intrigue. The next night, I binged the whole four-episode series in one sitting.
Besides the sneak peek of the first episode, I leapt into this series blind. As the camera leads us through police proceedings after Jamie’s arrest, I assumed this show, while unique in its execution and young subject, would be similar to other mystery crime shows I’ve consumed. When the first episode approaches the end, the audience is finally clued in on the specifics. Jamie is accused of murdering his classmate, Katie Leonard, whose body was found in a parking lot the night before. As Jamie pleads his innocence, Detective Bascome, portrayed by Ashley Walters, slides printed screenshots of Jamie’s Instagram across the table. They display a series of aggressive comments and innuendos that the young boy typed under suggestive photos of female Instagram models. “How do you feel about women, Jamie?” Bascome asks. Immediately, I perk up in my seat. This is not what I expected.
It’s no secret many young men and boys are being brainwashed by online hate speech, particularly regarding women and their autonomy. Influencers like Andrew Tate (whom the writers name drop in episode two) pump hours of misogynistic content onto millions of social media timelines, radicalizing people like Jamie into the manosphere. Violence stemming from this ideology isn’t new either, but it’s hardly addressed. No country on earth considers violent acts carried out due to prejudice against women a federal hate crime. In defiance of this, Adolescence doesn’t shy away from much of the law’s misogynistic ignorance. It’s clear from the beginning of the series that Jamie is responsible for murdering Katie. But, contrary to a typical crime show’s whodunit thriller, the audience is instead left wondering, “Why?”
In the third episode, we bear witness to a spine-chilling conversation between Jamie and forensic psychologist Briony Ariston (Erin Doherty). What starts as an innocent conversation rapidly escalates. “How embarrassing is that?” Jamie responds haughtily as Ariston accidentally stumbles over her words while inquiring about his Instagram. “Getting scared of a 13-year-old. Wow.” There is a deep, corrosive violence at the heart of this dialogue. It’s moments like these, where women are blighted through conversation and intimidation, that the series displays the true horror of the “why.” In the manosphere, there is no conceivable reality where women exist independent of men’s desires or social rank. Any imperfection is indicative of a naturalized male superiority. In Jamie’s mind and in the pervasive patriarchal culture that shaped it, women are less than human.
In recent years, particularly in the wake of the #MeToo movement, there has been a rightful push for women’s side of the story in popular media. On the surface, the dismissal of Katie’s story may seem like a rehash of the same victim erasure that permeates headlines regarding misogynistic violence. Instead, Graham and Thorne attempt to address the root of the violence rather than the act itself. Through outstanding writing, Jamie’s identity as the series’ protagonist pierces an in-depth perspective severely lacking in popular media. The show’s extensive focus on manosphere ideology and nurtured aggression displays a layered understanding of the real-life oppressive factors that led to Katie’s death rather than another fictional display of patriarchal violence, something I find can do more harm than good (see: Gaspar Noé’s 2002 film Irréversible).
Cooper is a particular standout in his portrayal of the disturbed teenager. Making his acting debut in the series, he portrays Jamie with both vulnerability and visceral abhorrence. I felt both sympathy and terror watching his biting performance in the third episode, specifically, as the one-shot format and claustrophobic setting left no room for error. Despite his young age, Cooper balances the dichotomy of the protagonist’s temperament with the grace of a seasoned actor.
Graham and Thorne combine the subtle normalization of misogynistic structures with their violent outcomes, creating an electric and horrifying display of a reality many women have already become familiar with. In just four episodes, the series manages to wield a comprehensive awareness of violence against women in both where it stems from and how it exerts its power, a standard that is hardly reached in conventional media. With ingenious execution, compelling performances, and brilliant cultural understanding, Netflix’s Adolescence distinguishes itself as a mandatory viewing experience in our patriarchal society.