Stephen Graham leads Philip Barantini’s devastating Netflix crime drama that traps us in the unravelling lives of a family — exposing the horrors of social media influence, toxic masculinity, and parental blindness
I generally get drawn into a series by following actors’ filmographies. And it was Stephen Graham who led me to Adolescence, the British crime drama which has sparked conversation on the impact of social media on teenagers and the need for digital detox around the world. I first noticed him in Martin Scorsese’s Gangs of New York (2002), in which his minor role stood out despite its brevity. His early 20th-century Irish accent brought an authentic edge that stuck with me.
Years later, I saw Graham again in Line of Duty (2012-2021, a series that thrives not just on its stellar main cast (Martin Compston, Vicky McClure, and Adrian Dunbar, et al) but on the pivotal guest characters who define each season. Graham’s turn as John Corbett in Season 5 was brilliant — a coiled spring of desperation and menace, unravelling with devastating precision. He inhabited the role, proving he could steal the spotlight from even the most established names.
Chilling portrayal of misogyny
Now, in Adolescence, Graham steps into a dual role as both actor and co-creator, alongside writer Jack Thorne and director Philip Barantini (Accused, Villain, etc.). The four-part Netflix miniseries, released on March 13, is a chilling portrayal of misogyny, emotional loneliness among teens, and gender divide.
It’s a subject that could easily veer into preachy territory, but Graham and his collaborators resist the urge to shout from the rooftops or peddle easy resolutions. Instead, they craft a “whydunnit” rather than a “whodunnit,” diving into the murky depths of toxic masculinity among teenagers, online radicalisation, and social failure. Adolescence doesn’t offer answers — it holds up a mirror, forcing us to confront the uncomfortable questions ourselves.
The series centres on Jamie Miller (Owen Cooper), a 13-year-old boy arrested in the opening moments for the murder of a female classmate, Katie. Graham plays Eddie Miller, Jamie’s father, a plumber blindsided by the police raid that shatters his family’s ordinary morning. From there, the story unfolds across four episodes, each a single, unbroken shot — a technical feat that immerses viewers in the oppressive reality of the Millers’ unravelling lives.
Visceral edge, relentless dread
This one-shot production, a signature of Barantini’s after his acclaimed Boiling Point — another single-shot film set in a restaurant kitchen, with Graham in the lead role — isn’t just a gimmick. It’s a narrative chokehold, pulling the audience inside the story with no escape.
Adolescence wields its real-time approach with a visceral edge, the camera refusing to blink as it mirrors the relentless dread of its characters. In a BTS video on Netflix’s YouTube channel, we can see a team of camerapersons relaying the handheld camera for an uncut shot. The first episode was ready to go in just the second take — meaning that, aside from rehearsals and preparation, the entire episode was filmed in real time, which is approximately 60 minutes.
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In the first episode, we’re thrust into the chaos of Jamie’s arrest. Armed police storm the Miller home, barking orders as Eddie stands dazed on the stairs, hands raised, and his wife Amanda (Christine Tremarco) shrieks in her bathrobe. Jamie, a baby-faced teen, sobs and wets himself as he’s dragged away. It’s a gut punch of an opener, with the real-time format amplifying every second of confusion and terror.
The suffocation is palpable — not just for Jamie, but for his parents, who are left grappling with the unthinkable. As Eddie accompanies Jamie to the police station as his ‘appropriate adult’, the camera follows their every step, from the van ride to the cell, capturing the raw disbelief in Graham’s eyes. It’s a masterclass in understated devastation.
Inspired by real-life reports
What sets Adolescence apart is its refusal to simplify. Jamie isn’t a monster from a broken home — his parents aren’t abusive or neglectful in any overt way. Eddie and Manda are flawed but loving, oblivious to the online world where their son has been drowning.
The series hints at the influence of the “manosphere” — misogynistic ‘incel’ corners of the internet peddled by figures like ex-kickboxer Andrew Tate — but it doesn’t overplay this card. Instead, it’s one thread in a tangled web of peer pressure, isolation, and a society that’s failing its boys.
Owen Cooper, in his screen debut, is astonishing, shifting from fragile innocence to incendiary rage with a subtlety that belies his age. For Eddie and Manda, the suffocation deepens with each episode. Graham’s performance as a shattered dad is a slow burn of anguish. Tremarco matches him beat for beat, her Manda a mother torn between love and horror.
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Though Adolescence has taken on a hauntingly global resonance, watching it in Kerala — where news of teenage boys committing multiple murders, killing classmates and even siblings has recently surfaced — seemed eerily relevant.
This isn’t just an English story; it echoes in the southern corner of India, too. That connection hit me hard, especially knowing Graham drew inspiration from real-life reports of boys with knives attacking friends, a thread that binds these distant tragedies to his gripping narrative.
Failure of parents
The one-shot style keeps us trapped in their world, every long take a reminder that there’s no turning away from this nightmare. It’s engrossing, yes, but also suffocating, mirroring the parents’ descent into a reality they can’t comprehend.
Adolescence doesn’t judge or absolve — it observes, unflinchingly. Graham and his team have created something rare: a series that’s both a technical marvel and a profound emotional reckoning. It’s not just about boys with knives; it’s about the villages that fail to raise them. And for Jamie’s parents, caught in the constant gaze of that unbroken camera, the weight of that failure is unbearable.
My first experience with a single-shot long movie came with Alexander Sokurov’s Russian Ark at the 2002 International Film Festival of Kerala. That 87-minute film, captured in a single, unedited take, was a revelation. As an audience, we were awestruck by its audacity.
Where Russian Ark used its unbroken shot to sweep through history with a dreamlike grace, Adolescence employs it to trap us in a claustrophobic present — a distinction that feels both innovative and inevitable. Sokurov’s film was a hypnotic journey; Barantini’s is an unrelenting confrontation, proving the single shot can be as punishing as it is poetic.
