Adolescence is an Honest Look at What Kids Are Really Going Through Today
Adolescence is a raw and honest look at how a community’s neglect can shape—and completely shatter—the lives of its young people. From the very beginning, I felt it in my chest. The whole show is heavy, but so beautifully done. The way it’s shot, the way you feel everything that’s happening—it’s all so visceral. That sense of discomfort, of this is life and we keep going, even when everything in you wants to look away.
Created by Jack Thorne and Stephen Graham, Adolescence follows a 13-year-old boy accused of a violent crime. From there, his family, therapist, teachers, friends, and investigators try to piece together how it all unfolded. Thorne’s deep dive into incel culture sheds light on the toxic messages floating around online spaces, just waiting to latch onto young, confused minds.
But what I appreciated is that the show doesn’t just blame social media. It digs way deeper—showing the layers of systems failing kids over and over again. Overworked or absent parents. Teachers with too much on their plates. Adults who never really grew up themselves.
I was glued to the screen—thinking about growing up with parents who were always working. And like Jamie, so many of us end up learning about the world from our peers, not adults. This shapes how we relate to people, how we love, how we lash out. It leaves marks—sometimes really distorted, mean ones.
And then there’s the scene with the therapist (Erin Doherty). Whew. That was tough. Therapy is supposed to be this safe space, but instead it felt cold and clinical—like another system going through the motions. No real connection. No, “I see you.” No, “You’re actually a really good-looking, thoughtful kid.” Sometimes that kind of simple validation can literally save a life. That scene really stayed with me—it’s such a clear example of how we’re failing our youth with this lack of emotional literacy.
Another moment that hit me hard was how little we get to know the victim. Her life, her world, what she might’ve been going through. But even in those small glimpses, you can feel that she, too, was walking through adolescence alone. It’s heartbreaking. You realize Jamie and the girl he hurt were both failed by the same systems—both trying to figure out life without a map.
One moment that made me especially mad was when Jamie called to share a big decision he’s made, and the family instantly pivots to worrying about the dad’s feelings. Like—are you serious right now? Even in that moment, no one was really seeing Jamie. That emotional neglect ran so deep.
The show’s been stirring up conversations in the UK—lawmakers, parents, everyone rethinking things like smartphone access for kids. But honestly, the phones aren’t the full story. That’s what Adolescence gets so right. It’s not just about tech. It’s about underfunded schools, overworked parents, and a complete lack of tools for emotional development.
What makes this show hit so hard is how real it feels. Jamie’s descent into isolation and violence doesn’t feel extreme—it feels familiar. Like something that is happening right now, down the block.
And it doesn’t tie everything up with a neat bow either. It doesn’t offer some magical solution. It just says: this is where we are—and we all have to take a look in the mirror. Because emotional neglect is everywhere. Quiet. Easy to miss. But it’s there. And it’s dangerous.
In the end, Adolescence is about the impact of our mistakes—personal and collective. It asks us to show up. To listen better. To be more present for the young people in our lives. It asks: Are we paying attention? Or are we going to keep missing the signs until it’s too late?
The show is well produced, acted, shot, and written. But it’s more than that. It’s a mirror—and a plea for empathy. And it moved me deeply.
You can visit Netflix’s Tudum site for everything you need to know about the series including trailer.