A Breathless Beginning That Demands Your Full Attention
Netflix’s Adolescence doesn’t ease you in. It drops you straight into the chaos with one continuous, high-wire shot that barely lets you blink. A little late to the game with this one, but for the next few posts, I’m going to take you through my experience of the show. Episode one is a tense, masterfully constructed hour of television that left me both impressed and unsettled, in all the right ways.
Let’s talk about that one-take format first. It’s not a gimmick. Directed by Philip Barantini, the camera moves with the characters like a shadow, gliding through rooms and streets, catching small gestures and side-glances that other shows would cut away from. The result is deeply immersive, like being trapped inside the moment with these people as everything unravels. You’re not watching the story unfold, you’re living it, minute by minute.
But what really makes it work, what makes it more than just a clever trick, is the acting. Without a single cut to lean on, every performance has to be airtight. There’s nowhere to hide.
Owen Cooper, as 13-year-old Jamie, is jaw-dropping. He doesn’t play the character with obvious signs of guilt or innocence. Instead, he exists in that murky middle ground where real teenage boys live, what adolescence feels like; emotionally knotted, mostly silent, visibly withdrawing even as the world closes in around him. It’s not a flashy performance, which is what makes it so good. You can feel his inner world tightening, even when he barely speaks. There’s a tension in his stillness that’s hard to look away from.
Then there’s Stephen Graham, as Jamie’s father Eddie. Graham is already known for bringing grit and depth to working-class roles, and here he delivers something painfully raw. He’s not a polished, heroic dad, he’s a man grasping at straws, reacting before thinking, scared out of his mind but trying to look in control. Graham plays Eddie with this nervous energy that sits just beneath the surface, always on the edge of boiling over. His scenes with Jamie are particularly strong. There’s a love there, clearly, but it’s tangled up with disappointment, anger, and fear. You get the sense this is a parent who wants to protect his child, but isn’t entirely sure how anymore.
Supporting performances are strong across the board. The police officers, the social workers, the friends and family, everyone is dialled in, everyone feels lived-in. And that’s crucial for a show like this. Because the one-shot format means even the background characters get extended screen time. There’s no quick in-and-out with lines; you see people react, shift, process. It creates a kind of collective performance that adds layers to every scene.
There’s also something to be said for the emotional choreography involved. Acting in a one-take episode isn’t just about knowing your lines, it’s about timing your movement, hitting emotional beats exactly when you need to, and maintaining intensity for a full hour. That the cast manages this and makes it feel completely natural is seriously impressive.
Final thoughts
As a first episode, Adolescence is a bold, unsettling, technically dazzling piece of television. But it’s not the camerawork alone that makes it sing, it’s the humanity in the performances. The actors don’t just carry the show; they breathe life into it, moment by moment, in a format that demands nothing less than total presence.
Whether the show can sustain this across four episodes remains to be seen but even if it doesn’t, Episode 1 is a standalone triumph. Watch it when you’re ready to really feel something.
Featured Image by Joe Gadd on Unsplash
