Adolescence and class are deeply intertwined, yet this crucial connection is often overlooked in discussions around youth development.
The fact that this is a working-class family narrative has virtually vanished from liberal discourse.
Adolescence, a new miniseries on Netflix, opens with the police forcibly entering the home of 13-year-old Jamie Miller early one morning and taking him into custody on suspicion of killing his classmate Katie. Shell-shocked, Jamie’s parents and sister head to the police station as he is taken in for interrogation. Jamie’s father Edie, who is incredibly anxious and uninformed about the entire process, yells, “Well, don’t be letting everyone know what’s happening,” as soon as he sees his wife Manda texting on her phone. Love, we still don’t have a clue ourselves. “I am texting Susie to make sure our house is okay,” Manda responds, still in tears and a little irate. Remember, we don’t have a door anymore.
Since its publication, the debate around Stephen Graham and Jack Thorne’s wildly successful drama has only intensified. With a staggering 66.3 million views over the last two weeks and a 99% Rotten Tomatoes rating, the four-episode miniseries has broken all previous Netflix records. Adolescence encompasses a wide range of topics, including incel culture and masculine wrath. However, a crucial and complex aspect of the miniseries that is so movingly depicted in this exchange between Jamie’s parents nearly seems to escape our notice: the class issue.
In an interview, series writer Jack Throne stated: “I believe that the tale of male rage is as old as time itself.” However, there are actually two factors that are empowering masculine wrath. In addition to the internet and social media, there is a collapsing culture and a socioeconomic structure that is not benefiting anyone. We need to have a discussion as a society, you know. Liberal discourse virtually ignores the fact that adolescence is a story of a working-class household. Ironically, conservative pundits brought up this point, arguing that the show “demonises white working class boys.”
Anger and hopelessness
It’s crucial to see how this miniseries attempts to depict the helplessness of teenagers in the neoliberal age. Adolescence‘s creators have emphasized time and again that the plot is about why, not whodunit. For example, the police attempt to get answers at Jamie’s school in the second episode. When Luke Bascombe and Misha Frank, the two investigators, arrive at the public school, they discover that students are bullying one another, that teachers are yelling at the top of their lungs to keep the children under control, that false alarms are going off, and that there are violent altercations at the tennis court.
. Bascombe begs Mr. Malik, the instructor, for information about Jamie and whether there are any indications that he is unhappy. Malik stumbles in exasperation and rage, saying, “I’m only a tutor. No, I don’t. You know, I wouldn’t know. These kids are f*cking impossible, you know. What am I expected to do, really? Nobody seemed to know the answers. “Does it look like anyone’s learning anything in there to you?” Bascombe asks Frank impatiently as the two investigators move between classrooms.
Isn’t the story essentially the same everywhere? Due to a lack of finance, the public school system is rapidly disintegrating, leaving behind deteriorating facilities, inexperienced instructors with unmanageable class numbers, a dismal pay scale, and irate students, the majority of whom come from underprivileged and marginalized families. Death by a thousand cuts is threatening schools.
Perhaps the most discussed experience of adolescence to date is the following and penultimate one. Clinical psychologist Briony Ariston meets Jamie in a room at the juvenile prison facility seven months after the horrifying murder in order to compile a pre-sentence offence report regarding his mental health. The episode’s outstanding portrayal of young anger, Owen Cooper, and how the 13-year-old becomes scary after being prodded by the doctor and refusing to listen to a woman have been much discussed by critics. They overlook something else, though, which is Jamie’s perception of the stark social divide between them. This is evident right from the start of their conversation:
Jamie: You seem affluent, don’t you?
Briony: No, I simply don’t come from your area.
Jamie: So, if you don’t call it a slice, what do you call bread?
Briony: Bread, mm.
(Laughing together) Jamie: You look good.
Briony: Jamie, if it brings you joy, then I am.
Jamie: So, what’s your grandfather’s name? I bet you refer to him as “Grandpa.”
Briony: I don’t.
Jamie: You probably do.
Briony: I refer to him as “Pop-pop.”
Jamie: What? Do you?
Briony: I do, indeed.
Jamie: Whoa! (laughs) I’ve never heard that before, Jesus.
Briony: I have no idea why. May be he asked me to call him that. I am not sure.
Jamie: God, you are really posh.
A few minutes later, when asked if his father enjoys his work, Jamie retorts, “He fixes toilets.” What are your thoughts? He puts in a lot of effort in his work. long hours. Emergency plumbing after hours is where you may make the most money. Jamie’s voice is so abrupt that it’s easy to sense his guilt and rage.
Imagination beyond claustrophobia and despair
Despair and helplessness continue to run the breadth of the final episode. Edie’s work van is vandalised with bright yellow paint and he doesn’t have enough money to get it re-painted. The frustrations build, and culminate into his furious outburst.
Adolescence and Class: Unmasking Inequality in Popular Media Narratives
Adolescence is influenced by the long tradition of working-class males in British cinema, particularly Ken Loach’s films.
“These are such dark times and we need to identify hope,” said Loach, one of the finest chroniclers of proletariat realities. And it’s crucial, in my opinion, that hope is not wishful thinking; it’s not writing Father Christmas a letter and putting it under the tree. There must be a genuine chance for improvement as well as a mechanism to achieve it. And the power of working-class unity is what I believe to be the true hope.
However, there is little room for hope during difficult times or chance for unity in the world of adolescence. Critics have frequently described this miniseries as tragic and terrifying. It is, too. However, despite the outstanding performances and technical skill, the story is largely told through the eyes of the upper middle class. Without a doubt, some of the most beautiful moments of adolescence attempt to convey the viewpoint of the class, but these are frequently short-lived.
This likely explains the miniseries’ enormous appeal as well as the discussions surrounding it on internet and television media. These discussions mostly focus on the concerns of liberal middle-class viewers of streaming platforms.
Additionally, the creators of Adolescence typically just draw attention to our confusion around problematic teens in the shadowy corners of social media. “The biggest win for me is that we’ve started this conversation,” said Philip Barantini, the show’s creator, in an interview. We might have altered people’s perceptions of what their kids are doing in their beds and how they affect social media. I didn’t have phones, social media, or the internet when I was growing up. I would be in my bedroom using a keyboard, playing board games, or doing something else. We were also secure. However, their bedrooms are now among the most hazardous locations for these children, which is terrible.
Naturally, there is a pressing need to have a conversation about the manosphere and cyberbullying. However, aren’t these growing disparities frequently used as a weapon to undermine gender equality? Furthermore, is it feasible to envision working-class lives that go beyond claustrophobia and despair? We should probably consider these challenging issues before declaring Adolescence to be the greatest film of all time.
