Adolescence the show (and the pace of these times)

     Following my tradition, I watched late the most fashionable movie or show that everybody else has already watched. Adolescence has been one of the most discussed and controversial pieces of entertainment in recent months. The story of young Jamie, accused of killing a classmate, is one for our times. When I started, I was afraid that the whole thing could be a court show on the details of what Jamie did or did not do. I respect that format, but I was never into that. I was delighted to see that there was much, much more than that in those wonderful four episodes. It masterfully addresses fragile masculinity, especially at its inception, family connections, and, ultimately, the delicate equilibrium that it is raising children in today's overcomplicated world. Adolescence clearly is a more than notable work of art related to so many relevant current topics. As far as I know, it is still available on Netflix, and it is definitely worth the time.

    But there are two things I would like to emphasize. First, what I found most relevant was the awe-inspiring technical achievement of making every episode a single take, a thrilling and dizzying shot that flies around the characters. That effect is particularly effective in the first episode, I believe, for two reasons: because it is unexpected and unfamiliar for the spectator and creates a special perception of the story, a double awareness of wanting to know more about the plot and what is happening to the characters, and a desire to see how they move on with the technical feast. Past the first surprise of the technique, the impact of the contribution diminishes, but it is still effective to add another relevant layer to the narrative. But it is also significant because it intensifies the feelings of hopelessness and anxiety experienced by the characters, effectively conveyed by the actors to the audience. They are caught in a dramatic sequence of situations from which there is no way out, no escape, or quick, clear redemption. They have to go on, continuing through the events in a fateful way. The form is serving the narrative at its best.

    My second thought, related to the way I started this entry, is about how much I feel that I watched (and wrote) about the show very late, when everybody had, and after the big discussion in social media and social conversations had taken place. It seems now extraordinarily late, like years have gone by. Well, I checked, and the show premiered on Netflix on March 13, 2025, which means that it happened not even four months ago. However, it already seems like something from a remote past, like a relic. You remember the conversations with friends and acquaintances about the show like they belong to a different era. This kind of content and its repercussions seem to vanish in time and disappear quickly. And I used the word "content" on purpose because, and that is my point, that is what is considered by the companies. Content that fills time, catches attention, and then disappears, banished by the next novelty that everybody is craving. Even magnificent products such as Adolescence are part of that cycle of quick enjoyment, obsession, and forgetting. New movies or shows to watch, discuss, and recommend before they are replaced by more and more "content," in a perpetual avalanche that will keep us entertained but unable to preserve any cultural memory or set any kind of canon. With some very honorable exceptions, there are no classics anymore since everything is happening too fast and becoming a commodity that we consume and forget in order to move along to the next one.