There is no mystery in Adolescence. We know from the beginning that 13-year-old Jamie Miller (Owen Cooper) murdered his classmate, Katie, writes Mona Mohamud. We see the footage.
Directed by Philip Barantini and written by Stephen Graham and Jack Thorne, Adolescence is not a ‘whodunit.’ The series isn’t about the crime itself but about the forces, both online and offline, that shaped Jamie into a killer. What unfolds is a harrowing study of radicalisation, misogyny, and the erasure of female victims in the aftermath of male violence.
The opening scene introduces the exploration of childhood deception and the assumed innocence of kids. Police officer (Ashley Walters) listens to a voicemail from his teenage son, who lies about having a stomach bug to skip school. It’s a seemingly inconsequential moment, but it sets the tone for what follows – a dissection of how boys learn to manipulate truth.
Jamie’s arrest is traumatising. His parents, Eddie (Stephen Graham) and Manda (Christine Tremarco) are blindsided. Their denial is both gutting and revealing. Their disbelief isn’t just love; it’s cultural ignorance: they’re unaware that their son’s worldview has been shaped by online extremism.
As the show progresses, Jamie’s motivations come into focus. His online activity exposes a consumption of red pill and incel ideology: where boys are taught women are deceptive, that only the “top 20%” of men are desirable, and that rejection is personal. The mention of Andrew Tate is not coincidental, it is a deliberate jab to the influence of figures who promote sexist, hyper-masculine ideologies to impressionable boys. I found myself questioning my own biases, reflecting on how easily I felt empathy for Jamie, similar to how society searches for redemption in boys like him.
The third episode was the most gripping part for me. It’s just two people in a room, yet it unpacks years of online radicalisation. Jamie cycles through rage, self-pity, and arrogance, as psychologist Briony (Erin Doherty) dismantles his belief system. Exposing insecurity and entitlement at the root of his hatred. But as Jamie is analysed, Katie is forgotten. She’s reduced to an obstacle in his story. He’s the focus, his future, his psychological state, his pain. Katie becomes an afterthought. It’s the reality for victims of femicide. It’s a one shot, no cuts, examination of how digital radicalisation, unchecked misogyny, and parental denial culminate in gendered violence.
The final scene is devastating, as Eddie breaks down, “I should have done more, I’m sorry, son,” embodying the heartbreak of a well-meaning, loving father who failed to monitor his child properly. It’s a study of violence in the UK, and the loss of children under the noses of unsuspecting families. It’s a must watch.
