Adolescence is, quite frankly, one of the most quietly terrifying crime dramas I’ve watched in a long time. There are no jumpscares, or flashes of gruesome violence; instead, the distress comes from the normality of it. The story follows 13-year-old Jamie Miller (newcomer Owen Cooper), who is arrested for the murder of a girl in his class. In the aftermath, Jamie and his family, friends, and everyone around him have their lives picked apart and examined in a harsh light. It’s a fascinating study of how people—particularly children who are still learning to navigate the real world—are capable of horrifying things, and also how they crack and fall apart when placed under immense pressure. 

What makes this series even more fascinating is that it was filmed in real-time, in one shot per episode; directed by Philip Barantini, the camera follows the characters as they come in and out of our focus, and the cast holds us rapt with attention. Told in four parts, with jumps in time between each, we see Jamie’s arrest and processing, the questioning of his school friends, Jamie’s meetings with the psychologist assigned to his case, and finally, Jamie’s father Eddie’s (Stephen Graham) slow unraveling in the months afterward. 

Described as more of “a ‘whydunnit’ than a ‘whodunnit’,” the series is designed to show how easily this kind of unthinkable violence could be committed by someone you know. It’s not a case of a “loner” who everyone knew was trouble but the police didn’t take the threats seriously; Jamie is a seemingly normal young boy, from a working-class Northern English family who represents the everyday we’re all used to. What turned a regular teenage boy into an alleged monster? Was it a product of his upbringing, or the society he lives in? Was it what he found online while searching for something to believe in? Or was it a combination of all three?

While parents are often more savvy to Internet access and apps are generally regulated these days, the dregs of humanity seem to be amplified more than ever. Social media rules all, where so-called “red pill” influencers earn millions to peddle incel theories about subjugating and harming women. With access to that at an impressionable age, young boys who fall into their audience can grow up to be angry men who think they are entitled to women and their bodies. 

Through Jamie, we see how far he’s rationalized and justified his views and actions—and how, to him, it’s deemed “normal” because that’s how all the boys around him act. How everyday violence begins with words, with the sharing of explicit photos without consent, and with using anger as a tool to control and silence. Owen Cooper is excellent as Jamie; to perform such a demanding role at such a young age, and in one near-continuous performance per episode, is commendable. His swings between the scared naivety of a child and his outbursts of anger are compelling to watch. Cooper carries such a heavy weight on his shoulders and I hope he is recognized for it. 

Through Eddie, we see how generational masculinity is upheld and reinforced, and how that can be harmful to everyone around him, including himself. He wasn’t raised to deal with his emotions, instead, he was raised to get angry. Eddie is not what we would call an evil man, nor the sole person to blame for his son’s actions; he’s a man you likely know. Perhaps he’s your own father. Or the neighborhood’s local plumber, or a friend’s older brother who used to drive you to school. Eddie tried his best to be a better parent than his father was to him; but how does he reconcile that with what his son is accused of doing? Stephen Graham portrays Eddie with so much nuance and complexity it will tear you apart. His pretense that everything should carry on as normal, when nothing will ever be normal again, is heartbreaking.

Erin Doherty is also brilliant as Jamie’s clinical psychologist Briony, playing her role with a poised intensity that alternates between pushing Jamie towards violent outbursts and bringing him back to an insecure boy searching for approval. Ashley Walters plays Detective Inspector Bascombe with authority and gentle but not infallible integrity; Bascombe tries his best to handle Jamie and his friends with care while enforcing the law and impressing upon them the seriousness of the crime. How the adults in the series treat the kids underlines the series’ gravity, while reminding you how fragile we all are, at any age. Christine Termarco plays Jamie’s mother Manda, and his sister Lisa is played by Amélie Pease. They capture you with the limited screen time they have; the whole family’s grief will make your chest ache.

What may draw audiences to Adolescence is its challenging one-shot filmmaking, but what will be most remembered is how it made them feel. The story is something we cannot ignore because it is not extraordinary or far-off; it is here, and it is all too real. It doesn’t preach about the dangers of toxic masculinity but it does show you its consequences—and that’s something everyone needs to understand.