From a practical perspective, you’re sitting there to be yelled at by this boy for a long time. For a long freaking time. Was that unpleasant? It feels like it had to have been a tough day at work.

No, it really was. We rehearsed for two weeks, then we shot it for one week, and we did two takes a day, because that is all we could emotionally and physically achieve. I think we’d be on the floor if we tried to do it any more. At the end of the whole three-week process, I was obliterated, just a shell of a being. 

To maintain that focus, to get through a whole shot with someone as essentially a two-hander, was physically draining. To be on the receiving end of someone’s emotions is so exhausting. I’ve already admired therapists for years and years and years, I think what they do is incredible, but this process made me understand that they are athletes in their own sense. So yeah, it was really challenging to go through it twice a day. But hopefully we were able to portray the danger and the dynamism of what it means to actually go through a session. It was a tough ask. But that project and that story specifically needed that episode to really pick out what is going on inside this boy’s mind. 

I interviewed actor Erin Doherty about her phenomenal work on A Thousand Blows and Adolescence.

Is it cathartic to condemn yourself? Can it be healing to admit your wound was, in part at least, self-inflicted? Can you move on from the worst thing that’s ever happened even if you know you’re part of the reason it happened? Is that the only way you can move on at all?

[…]

Asking your audience to accept that good intentions aren’t guarantees of good outcomes and don’t morally absolve you from bad ones is bold at any time, much less this one. It’s a dramatic third rail few shows dare touch; even the very fine and similarly themed Disclaimer, filmed by technical wizard Alfonso Cuarón, turned its well-meaning failures into outright villains rather than ask the audience to live with the pain of their understandable, relatable guilt. Wallowing in that anguish, employing a phalanx of performances by actors who make their characters feel like they’ve been set on fire from within, shooting through a camera that never lets us look away, Adolescence is truly exceptional television. 

I reviewed the finale of Adolescence for Decider.

This is the best hour of television I’ve seen all year.

I reviewed the astonishing third episode of Adolescence for Decider.

As Jade and Mrs. Bailey discuss Jade’s dire situation, cheerful “Hello!” and “Bienvenue!” signs hang in the background. A few minutes after chasing down and arresting a child for conspiracy to commit murder, Bascombe takes his son out for chips and a soda. Yards away from the murder scene, children play on a playground. Everything is terrible, but for our children’s sake we pretend that life goes on.

I reviewed the second episode of Adolescence for Decider.

What long takes offer a show like this is a vital ingredient: tedium. I’m dead serious, too. Think of any time you’ve been parked in some institutional space or another — a school, a court, a hospital — knowing your life is about to change forever but unable to fast-forward to the moment that change actually occurs. It’s maddeningly boring, a boredom made all the worse by your body’s flight-or-fight activation. It’s almost unbearable.

So it is here. When Bascombe and Frank make unpleasant small talk about Bascombe’s digestive issues prior to the raid, we’re there for every second of it. We’re there for every second of terror as the rest of the family stands or lies around with cops’ guns pointed at them as Jamie is arrested. We’re there in the police van as Jamie is driven to the station, sobbing. We’re there as he’s made to answer various questions and endure various inspections. We’re there with his family in the waiting room. We follow cops and lawyers around not just when they’re actually doing something, but when they’re making their long walks through this unpleasant place to wherever they need to go to do those things. 

Even before the long closing shot, we’re being made to sit with it, to sit with it all. The confusion, the frustration, the unexpected moments of kindness, the obsequious fawning of the family for being shown even the slightest consideration — when Barlow informs Eddie that the cops likely have very strong evidence on his son, Eddie ends the conversation with a crushingly informal thanks of “ta” — it all feels more real because we’ve watched it all unfold in real time, without a moment’s respite, even during the stuff normal films and shows would trim for being unnecessary. Again, the unnecessary is the essence of art. (By some definitions, art is inherently unnecessary, or else it would be some other thing.)

I reviewed the first episode of Adolescence, which is extraordinary, for Decider.