The Cutprice Guignol

It’s been a while since I’ve seen a show capture the attention of the zeitgeist quite like Adolescence has.

Adolescence (which is, at the time of writing this, sitting at the top of the charts for Netflix in both the USA and the UK) is a crime drama that follows Jamie (Owen Cooper, in what will, in a just world, be a star-making role), a thirteen-year-old boy accused of murdering a classmate and fellow teenager, as his father (Stephen Graham), therapist (Erin Doherty), and a detective investigating the case (Ashley Walters) contend with the truth of his crime and the circumstances that surround it.

Adolescence is an impressive show on a lot of levels: for a show that takes on a topic that’s so much in the zeitgeist right now, it doesn’t have the feel of something so painfully current that it will lose any and all appeal in a few years’ time. The performances are uniformly excellent, especially from the young cast, and the predictably-brilliant Stephen Graham (who also co-wrote the show) bagged his twentieth British TV award within the first fifteen minutes, as far as I’m concerned. It’s not jolly viewing by any stretch of the imagination, but it is excellent, and it’s great to see a miniseries of such quality land such a well-earned reaction in the press and viewing figures combined.

But what I found really fascinating about the show – and what I’d like to get into a little today – is the quite astonishing technical achievement of its production. Because Adolescence is shot (or at least presented) in single-take episodes: each of the four entries into the series takes place in real time in one take. Now, the single-take shot has been a bit of a staple in movies and TV recently, occasionally dipping over into gimmick for the sake of showing off a director’s skill behind the camera – but Adolescence uses this ambitious approach to really fill out the storytelling and characters, and create a strikingly unique and memorable subversion of the crime drama in the process.

Because, when it comes to crime dramas, we’re used to a certain formula – the crime, the arrest, the investigation, the trial. No matter how dark the show is or how horrible the crime it depicts, there’s a reliable framework here that allows us as viewers to engage with it in a way that feels familiar. Most importantly with regards to Adolescence, this framework offers a break from the intensity of the emotion and the darkness, a chance to catch our breath as the story moves through the familiar beats of a more procedurally-driven show. But the long takes in Adolescence allow for this incredible intensity that, at times, feels almost intrusive – in much the same way these kind of traumas echo out through a community, the emotion is messy, confusing, and, ultimately, inescapable. We don’t get a nice clean cut to the next scene to close out a particularly intense moment – like the characters, we have to sit in it and with it, no easy outs, no shortcuts.

Adolescence is probably my favourite show of the year so far – it’s a gruelling watch, but an incredibly impressive one both on a technical and emotional level. I would love to hear what you made of it – let me know in the comments below your take on the show!

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(header image via BBC)